Chapter Seven: Make New Friends But Keep the Old
The Poke Ball swerved dangerously close to Lyra's forehead, and she jumped back, nearly tripping over the picket fence at the side of the road. Her elbows jammed against the pointed tips. As she rubbed them, wincing, the Poke Ball missed her head and dropped to the ground with a flat thump in front of her. A flash of light exploded from its split mouth, almost blinding in the fading dusk.
When she blinked the after-image away, the spots of light behind her eyelids swirling and finally disappearing from view, an oddly familiar-looking Pokemon was perched on the ground between her and the boy.
Lyra stepped forward from the fence, her eyes fixed on the Pokemon. It was small and lizard-like, its limbs slightly chubby, red spikes trailing down its back. Turqoise scales glistened under the last streaks of sunlight, the glowing patterns they painted reminding her of the sun's rays dappling the surface of the ocean. A spiked tail swung back and forth behind its body, pulling the Pokemon slightly off balance with its weight; its body swayed with the motion. As she watched, the Pokemon opened its eyes, revealing glittering red, and turned toward her with a big, toothy grin.
"Dile!" it slurped, clapping its paws together. A trickle of saliva dribbled down its chin. "Totodile!"
Totodile? Lyra didn't even need to dig through her bag for her Pokedex at the sight of the Pokemon. Totodile—that was the third starter that had been back in Professor Elm's lab! Her eyes widened as she stared down at the blue lizard-like Pokemon, which beamed back at her.
Totodile were rare, she knew. She had only ever seen them inside books and on the internet and taped to the binder of one boy at school who bragged about how rich his family was and how many rare Pokemon they could afford. But this—this here and now—this felt like déjà vu. Just hours earlier, she had been deciding between Cyndaquil and Totodile, hadn't she?
Lyra looked down and smiled tentatively back at the Totodile. The little Pokemon was cute, if a little clumsy-looking, with its large jaw and wide, slapping feet.
"You have a Totodile?" she blurted out, looking up eagerly at the boy.
Her voice lodged in her throat when she caught sight of the boy's face. He was shaking his head and glaring down at his Pokemon, fists clenched at his side and eyes full of…disgust? Disappointment? His face looked all the more drawn and pale, his pointed chin thrust out. Lyra didn't understand. Hadn't he picked the Pokemon himself? Why would he have chosen the Totodile if he wasn't satisfied with it in the first place?
His head snapped up as he finally seemed to hear her question. "Yeah," he growled, spitting the word like a curse. "So what?"
"N-nothing, I was just asking," Lyra muttered quickly, feeling a flush rise up to her cheeks. "Never mind."
"Cynda!" The impatient squeak jolted her out of her thoughts; she looked down to see Cyndaquil pawing impatiently at the pavement. Her Pokemon's eyes were fixed on the Totodile, a sneer already making its way across her snout. "Cyndaqueel!"
"Well, okay then," the boy snorted. "If you're not too busy staring, can we get on with this?"
"U-um, right." Lyra stepped forward to stand behind Cyndaquil, though she couldn't shake the sense of alarm at both the boy's attitude and the sight of the Totodile. What were the odds? "Right. On with the battle."
The corner of the boy's lip curled in a sneer, and for the first time she could remember, she saw his eyes light up with something that looked close to happiness. He unclenched his fists and thrust his right arm forward.
"All right. Totodile, Scratch!"
The Totodile's jaw snapped shut as it finally turned away from Lyra, looking startled. Tail swinging behind it, it raised a foot and lunged blindly in Cyndaquil's direction, claws outstretched, reaching for her fur.
"Dodge it, Cyndaquil!" she shouted.
Her command turned out to be unnecessary. Cyndaquil snickered and let out an arrogant peep of "Quil!", and then lifted her foot and stepped almost daintily to the side, turning her nose into the air. She was showing off, Lyra could tell. And enjoying it.
The Totodile crashed forward, its much larger body slowing it down, and toppled to the ground next to her, arm flailing and jaw sliding against the pavement.
"How—that was pathetic!" the boy yelled, burying his fingers in his shock of hair. A man and a woman walking by hand in hand turned at his exclamation. "I can't believe this."
"Dile…" The Totodile shook its head, blinking, and climbed to his feet. It spun around, tail catching behind it, and nearly lost its balance as it twisted around to face Cyndaquil. It bared its teeth at her. "Dile!"
"Quil-quil-quil," Cyndaquil tittered, turning away.
There was something about the look in the Totodile's eyes, the way the glittering red seemed to dull for an instant, the way its jaw slackened, the gleam of hurt and dejection that flared up before subsiding that made Lyra stop. She bit her lip. It reminded her too much of something. Something she couldn't put a finger on. No, why lie? It reminded her too much of…herself.
"Hey, stop," she said, before she could stop herself. Cyndaquil turned and shot her a defiant glare. She stared back, shaking her head. "That's rude."
"Quil quil?"
"It's not nice of you to make fun of…" Him? Her? How was she supposed to know its gender? She took a wild guess; she had a fifty-fifty chance, after all, and it seemed like a boy. "Totodile. We're in the middle of a battle here. Focus on the fighting and not on…talking to him."
If Cyndaquil had been human, Lyra was pretty sure that the expression she was giving her now would be the equivalent of a raised eyebrow. What had happened to the show of camaraderie that had taken place before, when the two of them had agreed to aim for the Championship? Now it seemed like she was asking, Really? You? You're going to try this?
"Oh, please. This is ridiculous," the boy scoffed. "Enough of this crap. It's been one move."
"Y-yeah, okay. But no…no more rudeness, okay?" Lyra faced her Pokemon. "Seriously. It's…it's not fair. Imagine if someone were doing that to you."
She took a breath as saw the defiance bubbling up in Cyndaquil's gaze, saw the fire building, ready to lash out, ready to argue, and braced herself. How stupid would she look in front of this boy, who probably already thought she was stupid, if her Pokemon couldn't obey her orders, even ones that didn't have to do with battling? Trainers who couldn't control their Pokemon looked like fools.
But to her surprise, Cyndaquil inhaled a breath of air through her nostrils and then nodded reluctantly. "Quil." Fine.
Lyra nodded back, too startled to even smile. What had just happened? Had she just…had Cyndaquil just listened to her? She blinked. "Good."
When she looked up, she saw that the boy was now attempting to drill holes in her with his eyes. "Come on. Can we just get on with this, already?"
"Right. Sorry." Lyra took a breath, and pointed her arm forward. She watched as both Pokemon scrambled back into fighting positions, Totodile climbing to his feet and thrusting his arms back, Cyndaquil leaning back on her haunches, ready to spring. Lyra scanned her Pokemon's face; there was no trace of the snooty arrogance left in her eyes, only quiet determination. A shiver of something that felt almost like pride trickled down her spine.
"Cyndaquil…Tackle!"
"Scratch again!"
The two Pokemon both sprang forward, Totodile keeping his balance this time, his tail dangling straight behind him. But Cyndaquil was faster. She jammed her nose into the blue belly of the Totodile, making him topple backward—but this time, as Lyra watched, the big jaw Pokemon caught himself on his tail, using it to keep his balance instead. He howled in pain and flung out a claw; as Cyndaquil leaped back, out of range, it caught on her shoulder, and Lyra winced at the gash it drew down her fur.
"C-Cyndaquil!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering. As Cyndaquil twisted over her shoulder, looking annoyed, Lyra cleared her throat and tried to cover up her mistake. "I-I mean—good job! You got him!"
The two Pokemon jumped back again, going back to circling and sizing each other up at a safe distance away. They watched each other with wary eyes, and Lyra lifted hers up to squint at the boy's face. Across from her, she saw him stare down and give the slightest of nods at his Pokemon, his jaw still set in disapproval.
The confusion rose inside her again. She still didn't understand his problem. Why was he treating his Pokemon like this, when it was fighting so hard for him? People who didn't like Pokemon—which this boy, for some strange reason, seemed not to—usually didn't become trainers, though once in a while you always heard about the occasional case of Pokemon abuse. Those were always horrible, but luckily, they were few and far between. Still, Lyra didn't like to think about them, and she didn't think that this boy, as rude and belligerent as he seemed, could be cruel enough to do something like that. If anything, he seemed as if he didn't even know his Pokemon—as if he had never established any connection to him.
For some reason, the thought spurred a flicker of curiosity in her mind; she stopped, trying to figure out what it was about the thought that bothered her. Before she could reach a conclusion, though, the boy's gruff voice cut into her reverie, yanking her back into the battle.
"Come on, Totodile, what are you waiting for? Scratch it again!"
"Diiile!" Totodile lurched forward, jaw opened eagerly. Cyndaquil leaped back with a squeak. But this time, instead of falling back, Totodile gave chase, bounding after her and landing hard on one of this feet. His tail whipped behind him, spikes reflecting the orange light of the sky.
"Dodge, Cyndaquil!" Lyra called, hands flying to the brim of her hat.
As she watched, Totodile kept advancing on her Pokemon with large, intimidating steps, each one slapping the ground with a loud smack. She waited for Cyndaquil to scoff at him again, or skirt around him, or plunge her nose into his stomach, but to her surprise, the fire mouse stared up at him quietly and took a step back.
"Cyndaquil! What are you waiting for?"
But Cyndaquil didn't respond. Her eyes darted back and forth, as if looking for an escape. Totodile seemed to notice that something had changed; his eyes glimmered brightly, and he stepped forward again, ramming his foot against the ground. Cyndaquil let out a squeak and backed away again, as the larger Totodile stretched out his arms to the sides as if trying to swallow her in his grasp. He was blocking off her escape, Lyra realized. And Cyndaquil didn't like it, the stomping he was doing; with her underdeveloped eyes, she relied on her sensitive ears to guide her, and the loud noises threw her off. Totodile had found a good strategy.
"Cyndaquil! Come on! Tackle him!"
The boy's eyes lit up across from her, almost glowing in the twilight. Cyndaquil leaned back on her haunches, getting ready to spring, but Totodile stomped forward again, advancing on her. She skittered backward. The white fence loomed behind her, and Lyra realized too late what he was trying to do.
"Keep going, Totodile!" the boy bellowed.
"Cyndaquil! Don't let him back you into the fence!" she called. "You can do it! J-just ignore him and go for the belly!"
"Cyn-da!" Cyndaquil growled, shaking her head back and forth as the Totodile continued his stomping advance on her. She spun over her shoulder, taking in the sight of the fence, and whirled back around. And then, before Lyra knew what was happening, she threw her nose back and lunged forward.
But instead of going in for a Tackle, something strange happened: a cloud of thick, gray smoke that simply hadn't been there before billowed in between the two Pokemon's faces, spreading its wisps and tendrils like a Tentacruel's tentacles, unfurling and undulating in the ocean, growing and reaching its misty fingers out until it engulfed them both. Lyra craned her neck, alarmed; she couldn't see, couldn't see either Pokemon's face, but she heard the loud, slurpy coughing that she knew was Totodile's, and then, a second later, heard a tiny peep of victory from behind the screen.
"Cyndaquil!" she exclaimed. "Cyndaquil—you learned a new move!"
She heard the boy curse as, a moment later, the fire mouse hopped out from behind the cloud of smoke, nose pointed in the air in victory, and scampered back into position in front of Lyra's legs. The smoke was already clearing behind her, and through the thinning vapor, Lyra could see Totodile rubbing his eyes with his paw and coughing, snorting water onto the pavement in front of him.
"Cyndaquil! That was awesome!" she cried, bending down. "You learned—you learned—" What was the move called again? Something to do with smoke, something like…
"SmokeScreen. The user releases an obscuring cloud of smoke or ink that reduces the foe's accuracy."
At the sound of the metallic voice, Lyra flinched and looked up at the boy, who cringed, as if he hadn't been expecting the voice, either, and looked as if he was trying to smother something he was holding in his hands. She peered closer, curious. It was something that looked awfully familiar—a small, square, metal device that fit in the palm of his hand, the last light of dusk glinting off its surface.
No…she knew what he was holding. In fact, she had one tucked into her bag right now.
"A—a Pokedex? Where did you get that?"
The boy's head snapped upward, and he closed his fingers around the Pokedex, as if trying to hide it from her view.
"None of your business, wimp," he snapped. "Doesn't everyone have one?"
"What? No!" She shook her head, confused. "Pokedexes are really rare. In Johto, at least. Are you…are you not from around here?"
"Shut it, wimp. That's not your business, either." The boy's fingers were scrambling to close the Pokedex, jamming it back into the pocket of his pants as quickly as he could, as if he didn't want anyone to see it. Again, as Lyra watched him, she had the creeping feeling that something wasn't right about this. There was just something off about this boy. "Let's just finish the battle now."
"Um…okay." But her mind was still racing. Where had he gotten the Pokedex? And why was he so eager to hide it? There was something about him, something that seemed almost familiar… She reached out, searching her mind, but she couldn't grasp the thought. "Cyndaquil, let's finish this off with a Tackle!"
The boy turned toward the fence, a faint red tinge now coloring his cheeks. He looked as flustered as his Pokemon, who was still blinking and tearing up, trying to clear the smoke from his eyes.
"Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head. "How weak."
Lyra couldn't help but scrunch up her nose at his words. Why did the boy have to be so belittling? Most trainers cheered for their Pokemon when they were battling. Did he think that his comments were helping? Because they clearly weren't. Pokemon needed encouragement to battle, not insults.
One more Tackle would do it, now; Totodile was confused, still coughing from the remaining tendrils of smoke. Cyndaquil picked herself up again and launched toward the fence, springing forward and tackling him to the ground. Totodile's tail flew out from underneath him, and this time, when she backed away, he stayed down.
"W-wow, Cyndaquil!" Lyra exclaimed, blinking. She had done it. They had done it. "We won!"
"Cyn-da!" Cyndaquil squeaked, bounding over to hug Lyra's ankles. Surprised, her trainer bent down and awkwardly reached out a hand to smooth down her dark green fur. "Queel queel!"
"We did it," Lyra repeated, smiling down at the top of her head.
The boy, meanwhile, was shaking his head at the sprawled figure of his Totodile, his wide, blue jaw pointed into the air, his belly exposed. His trainer was clenching and unclenching his fist at his side, and as they met eyes, he lowered his own.
"That was pathetic. Are you happy you won?" he scoffed.
Lyra bit her lip, not sure how to answer. "I…I guess."
"Pathetic." The boy snorted. "Absolutely pathetic."
Something protested inside her again, and she opened her mouth.
"Look, you could at least try to use words other than 'pathetic,'" she said before she could stop herself.
"Oh, yeah?" the boy sneered. "And what is it to you what I say to my Pokemon?"
If she were Kris, she could come up with some kind of clever retort, now, like, "Maybe you could expand your vocabulary, then, punk." But since Lyra was Lyra, she bit her lip and shook her head and looked down at the ground. The grass swayed gently around her shoe.
"Well…well, nothing, really, but…it's not nice. And"—she lifted her head, because she could practically hear him jeering at her words—"more than that, it's not going to help you win, i-if that's what you think. Pokemon need encouraging. Not insulting."
The boy stared at her for a moment, and then curled his lip.
"Well, what do you know about Pokemon?" he sneered. "Do you want to know who I am?"
"Y-yeah?"
He stepped forward, the red lines of his eyebrows harsh against his pale skin. "I…am going to be the world's greatest Pokemon trainer."
Lyra could practically hear Kris's voice, now, echoing in her ear. "Good luck with that," she would snort, in the same tone of voice as the boy's, tossing her head. "Sure, whatever you say. You could hurt yourself, you know. Don't be silly."
But instead, all that came out when she opened her mouth was, "So am I."
The boy's gray eyes widened for a moment, so quickly that Lyra would have missed it if she had blinked. A ghost of surprise fluttered through them, and then, as if catching himself mid-action, he narrowed his eyes again and peered at her through silver slits.
"Well, good luck with that, weakling. As if a wimp like you could make it."
Lyra swallowed and bowed her head. "G-good luck to you, too."
There it was again: that snap-second of suspicion that flickered through his eyes before the gray shutters slid over them again. "You'll need it. I won't."
And then the boy turned on his heel and walked past Totodile, his strides stiff and abrupt, without even turning. He walked up to Lyra and picked up the lizard Pokemon's Poke Ball from the ground. A beam of red light enveloped the fallen Totodile as he held out the Poke Ball, and as he turned away, Lyra saw something small and papery slip out of his pocket and flutter onto the ground.
"W-wait—you forgot something." She hurried forward, leaning down and plucking it from the ground. It was thin and rectangular, slicing neatly into the space between her fingers. A card She turned it over, and saw a word emblazoned in shiny print above a picture of the boy—scowling and surly, red hair tousled around his face, as usual.
Not just any card, she realized. A trainer card.
"Silver?"
The boy stopped in his tracks. Lyra watched as his right hand curled into a fist, and he whipped around, red streaks of hair flying.
"Give me that!" he yelled, lunging forward, and yanked the card from her hand. As she stepped back, he frowned down at it, eyes flashing. "Oh, no. You saw my name…"
"S-Silver?" she said tentatively. "That's your name?"
"Shut up. It's not important." The boy—Silver, she thought—stuffed the card into his pocket and turned away. "Forget you ever saw that." The light of the rising moon reflected the silver of his eyes. Was that fear she saw?
Lyra bit her lip, struggling to fit together the pieces of what she knew about this boy. Silver. His nose and chin were sharp and drawn against the light of the moon. A picture was emerging of him, shimmering into view like the reflection of his eyes. The Pokedex, the way he had seemed surprised and disappointed when he released Totodile for the battle, the lack of connection between trainer and Pokemon that was there even for teams like her and Cyndaquil, the way he didn't want her to see his name…
"That Totodile isn't yours, is it?"
Silver's reaction was immediate; the lines on his face deepened, his mouth twisted downward, contorting his expression into something ugly.
"Shut up! Who do you think you are? You have no idea what the hell you're talking about!"
"Did you…steal it? You did, didn't you?" It wasn't a question. Lyra bit her lip, her happiness at the victory unraveling and draining from all of her veins. What had she just done? Had she just fought an illegally trafficked Pokemon? Was it…illegal to engage in a battle with a criminal and his stolen Pokemon? Had she broken the law? What if she was going to get arrested, now?
No, you're being paranoid, Lyra, she told herself, forcing herself to calm down and listen to what Silver was saying.
"Yeah, and so what if I did? You gonna go back and rat on me now?"
Go back? What did he mean by—
"Wait a second!" The thought hit her so hard she didn't know how she hadn't realized it before. The red hair, those glaring eyes… "I know you! I-I saw you this afternoon! You're that boy who was standing by Professor Elm's lab, aren't you?"
"Well, aren't you clever," he snorted, shaking his head. "Go ahead. Go rat on me. See if I care."
"I…I should! I should call Professor Elm right now and—"
"But you won't, will you," he jeered. "Because you're a wimp. I know your kind. You're weak. Pathetic."
"I…I just won that battle," Lyra said, and he fell silent with a glower.
"That's because Totodile was weak," he said, more quietly, clenching his fists. "That just means we have to train more. And we will. Harder. And I'll be the best. And I won't be beaten by people like you ever again!"
"Cyndaquil beat you, not me," Lyra argued. She wasn't sure why she was arguing with him. In fact, she should have felt scared, she thought, scared to be standing so close to a criminal, scared to have battled him, and arguing with him, no less—but somehow, she wasn't. This boy didn't scare her. There was something about him…something that told her he wasn't as cruel as he pretended to be, some gleam of vulnerability in his eyes that splintered a crack in his tough façade. She pressed her palms against the denim of her shorts, inhaling the cooling night air; it was exhilarating, this fearlessness. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the battle.
"I don't care. Pokemon are just tools. They're either weak or strong. That's all they're good for."
"Well…that's what you think…Silver," she said, and she saw him flinch as she spoke his name, as if she had slapped him.
"Shut up! You don't know my name! You don't know me!"
Lyra swallowed, shocked at the absence of fear she felt even when this boy, this thief, this criminal was flying into a rage, shouting, pointing his fingers at her, his gray eyes wild.
"I-I might not know you," she said carefully, "but I know what you're saying isn't true. Pokemon aren't tools. They're…they're our friends."
Silver didn't speak for a moment, just let out his breath, shaking his head at her. "I'll climb to the top of Mt. Silver before I believe your weakling crap," he spat, and then he turned on his heel and walked away. At the last moment, he turned, glaring at her with his silver eyes. "Go tell on me if you want. But you'll see. I'll be the Champion before they catch me."
She didn't even know where her next words came from, where this fearless energy was brewing, churning, rising out of her throat and becoming her. Becoming Lyra, when all of it was so un-Lyra.
"N-not if I get there first."
"Don't bet on it," he sneered, pacing away, and then he was gone.
Lyra stared after him, at the spot in the night sky where he had been standing a minute ago, his shock of red hair and navy clothes bleeding into the darkness. Silver.
"Cyndaaaa," Cyndaquil breathed, plodding up to stand next to her.
She turned, almost surprised to hear her Pokemon's voice, like a hook that dug into her skin and dragged her up from a deep, confusing pool of thought. When she looked down, the scratch on Cyndaquil's shoulder caught her eye—a furrow of pink that etched its way through the clumps of green fur, shallow but visible, there nonetheless.
"Come on, let's get you healed up."
It was a short walk to the Pokemon Center, and Lyra was unspeakably grateful that the people who had designed Cherrygrove City knew what they were doing, placing the city's most important and needed building near the entrance and ready for the tired travelers and trainers with their injured Pokemon. Several trainers were resting in the lobby with their Pokemon, playing lazily with them and chatting with their friends. She spotted a girl with a Hoppip, playing catch, tossing a pencil into the air and watching the grass Pokemon jump up to catch it and then drift down to the floor. A boy nearby was stroking his Drowzee's head, while at another table, a fisherman was cleaning his rod and laughing with his friends. A young couple was cuddling on one of the benches, the boy with his hand buried in his girlfriend's hair, her face nestled in his shoulder. The last sight made Lyra grimace.
She walked up to the desk and smiled at Nurse Joy, who let Cyndaquil climb up on to the table and took her Poke Ball, placing it on the machine behind her. As Lyra turned to leave, pulling on the jacket she had brought in her bag, the nurse stopped her with a friendly smile.
"Are you leaving, sweetie?" Nurse Joy asked, handing back Cyndaquil's Poke Ball. Lyra released her, remembering what Professor Elm had said about walking with her Pokemon. "It's getting a little late, and some of the rooms are starting to fill up. You might want to take one of them."
"I'm just going to go out for a walk," Lyra answered. "I'll be right back. I won't be doing any training or anything."
"Oh, that's fine," Nurse Joy said cheerily. "Take your time, sweetie. It's a beautiful night, and the way things usually go, there'll be plenty of rooms left when you get back."
Lyra thanked her and zipped up her jacket, motioning for Cyndaquil to follow as she headed for the door. She liked to go on walks, after all, to clear her head, to absorb everything that had happened that day. Her first day out training. To think about everything that had happened, all the battles she had fought and the training she had done. To think about Silver. About whether or not she was going to tell Professor Elm about him. And why in the world she was considering not telling him.
If she was honest with herself, the night was making her a little homesick. She imagined the air whistling around her head outside, bringing with it the scent of grass. She would have just finished eating dinner at this time, normally, and been working on homework, if it was a school day. Or, if it was a weekend, she would have been at Ethan's, or he would have been at her house, playing video games or watching their favorite TV shows or baking cookies or just talking about everything and nothing at all.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, in fact, that she hardly noticed a boy brushing by her as she walked through the door, coming the other way. She looked up, blinking, and realized that she had almost run into him. She was about to mutter "sorry" when she realized that it was a boy her age. A boy with black hair and a backward baseball cap and a red sweatshirt, and bright golden eyes that almost made her knees crumple to the ground when they met hers.
"Ethan?"
Author's Note:
Aha! Yes, Ethan's back! I know you all missed him. And now he and Lyra finally meet again! And more lurve will ensue. :D
Sorry for the huge delay, I'm trying to get better at updating more often. I just have trouble focusing on one story, and I keep trying to start new ones and blargh. I'm really sorry, I'll try to improve my updating times! In the meantime, please review, as always, and I hope you enjoyed it!
Any guesses on what the next chapter will be called, by the way? ;)