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The Drayton Situation

Could he seriously not right now?

Lacey's had a long month. They're at the crucial halfway point of spring semester, and her course load isn't what anyone would call easy. But this is her type specialty, her best class, something of a break in her rigorous schedule, and she's still recovering from late nights spent studying to earn the top midterm mark and she doesn't need this.

But here's Drayton, strolling into the Coastal Outdoor Classroom ten minutes to the end of Fairy-Type Studies II, and no one else seems bothered.

"Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Drayton," their instructor says, sounding not even mad at him.

Even sounding a little charmed by him, and just wait till he does this every class he shows up to till it's no longer entertaining. Wait till he has to be chased after time and again to hand in his assignments like she and Amarys do with their League Club reports.

Drayton just smiles, brushing off the attention like he's accustomed to it. "No prob."

He's almost comically out of place in Fairy Types II, which is eighty percent girls who accessorize their uniforms with ribbons and ruffles, and garnering a lot of interested glances.

"Got held up at League Club," he says, sitting down. "It's hard work, keeping things in check."

He did not get held up at League Club. He got up from his nap and headed straight to the caf.

That's how it is. She and Amarys do all the work, Crispin at least tries to do the work, even if they have to rework it afterwards, and Drayton doesn't do the work till it's already overdue, so she picks up the slack and curses his attitude and dreams of the day they're Gym Leaders and she gets him back by telling all their colleagues what he was really like at school.

But he catches her eye and flashes that carefree grin as if to say, Go with it. Or maybe, Go on, tell on me, I dare you.

Drayton has that kind of confidence. It's exasperating.

"Man, it's like Alola out here," he mutters under his breath, shrugging off his jacket, and several girls look up from their notes on special moves and giggle as they notice.

Drayton's got nothing to take notes on, apart from a Rotom open to the video page of the PWT, which Lacey recognizes in an instant because Daddy's the boss of that and he approved the logo. What's he doing in this class?

Since when is he even in this class?

Come to think of it, she remembers him hanging around flirting while they were off on a field assignment, but she figured that was just Drayton being Drayton and distracting students who might otherwise accomplish something.

He must be here for one reason and one reason alone.

"Are you seriously taking Fairy Types for the girls?" she says, shaking her head, quietly enough that their instructor won't hear but loudly enough that everybody else will.

A second round of giggles ripples through the class, and she feels a rush of satisfaction at getting a shot in on him at last.

"We can only hope," says one girl to another.

There are these girls in the Tea Club, mostly the same girls in Fairy Types II, who meet up for tea and gossip and the gossip isn't always nice. Lacey doesn't partake in the gossip, only the tea parties, but she's polite to them because she's polite to everyone and she gladly lends out her tea sets when they ask.

"Maybe we should ditch Tea Club for League Club," says the other girl back. "He's majorly cute."

Drayton is not cute. He's ugh.

It's so ugh how he grins and gets away with everything. How he barely lifts a finger and talks people into doing what he wants. How they give in and go along, even when they know exactly what he's up to. Not cute. Just ugh.

But he laughs it all off, pushing up the sleeves of the club t-shirt he wears loosely untucked, and looks straight at her. "Well, maybe one girl."

Her notebook falls to the ground and her cheeks burn with a blush, because what is he saying, he cannot mean that, and she's already raising her hands in an X when—

"Gotta know my weaknesses to beat 'em, right, Lacey?"

And her fists clench in frustration, because everyone knows. How she never beats Drayton—not in League Club, not ever—and it's not for lack of type advantages or trying. Even though she attends every class and completes all the extra credit while he lounges around school and sleeps through lectures.

Drayton is not cute. Repeating second year for the third time is not cute. Smiling obnoxiously up at her as she shouts at him to do something, anything, is not cute. Passing out on the clubroom table in a pile of snack wrappers is so not cute.

"Lacey?" Their instructor puts her on the spot, and she snaps to attention. "Would you like to summarize that for the class?"

It's hardly an unusual request. She has this way of explaining things so everyone understands. It's why she's the most sought-after volunteer in the Academy's peer-assisted study program and students stop her in the hallways for help with their homework.

Only she has no idea what she's meant to be explaining. As always, it's all Drayton's fault.

Twisting her hands together, she runs over chapters she's read in her mind for something they won't get to for a few lectures yet. "Actually, I had a question. Will we be covering the stat-lowering effects of these moves as well?"

"That'll be next week's lessons," their instructor says with an approving nod. "Always thinking ahead, aren't you, Lacey?"

She exhales and lets herself relax at last. Thankfully, by some miracle, no one's noticed her slip.

"Nice save," Drayton leans over and whispers, his shoulder grazing hers, those gold-toned eyes glinting in the sunlight. "Guess even you get caught slacking, huh?"

Which is so like him. And so ugh. And leaves her a little dazed and lost for words.

Drayton is definitely not cute.

But sometimes, when things get serious at League Club, or it's too close to call in battle, or the caf sells out of the Academy Special, and he gets that look on his face like he actually cares about something, she thinks secretly, guiltily, somewhere deep inside—that's a cross-her-heart-and-hope-to-die, promise-to-never-repeat, lock-it-in-her-diary-and-throw-away-the-key secret—he's kind of hot.

And it's not right.

In a school as lenient as Blueberry Academy, it takes a lot to get called to the office. Lacey can't imagine what it takes to get your family called to the office.

Sure, she's often summoned by Director Cyrano to assist with filing and registrations and new student orientation—just odds and ends here and there—but she's pretty sure Drayton's not volunteering.

Most days Drayton looks like he doesn't have a care in the world. Today Drayton looks like every care in the world just kicked him in the face. He's walking out with his grandfather Drayden—a colleague of Daddy's in the League, and the mayor of Opelucid as far back as she remembers—and that lazy grin's nowhere to be found.

His uniform's ironed—sloppily, but still. His cape's draped over his shoulders for a change. His footsteps drag like he wants to sink to the bottom of the Polar Biome, Qwilfish and all.

He stares at his shoes for a few awkward seconds, and she glances aside like she's witnessed something she wasn't meant to see.

And then he laughs. "Yo, Lacey. What'd you do this time?"

"Just doing my part to help out around the office," she says, ignoring his attempt at a joke. "It's lovely to see you, Mr. Drayden. How's your Haxorus?"

"Getting on in years, but stalwart as ever." Drayden swells with pride, in sharp contrast to his unimpressed demeanor up until now. "Your father can't say enough about your achievements, you know. Tells me you earn straight As while tutoring students and maintaining your League Club rank."

Lacey smiles sweetly. "Oh, it's nothing, really."

Drayton looks utterly defeated. He looks kind of like he did when he lost to Kieran.

Not the first time he lost to Kieran, because that battle was fun for everyone, but the next time, when Kieran was running the club into the ground with his all-skill-no-chill attitude—as Drayton described it, anyway—and it wasn't fun for anyone, not anymore, and he couldn't stop Kieran and none of them could, and if it hadn't been for that Paldean exchange program…

"Drayton makes such a difference to our League Club," she finds herself saying—and surprisingly, she finds she does mean it.

Because she knows what it's like, having a famous trainer in the family. They talk about you. Everyone comes to expect a lot of you. And if you don't grow up to be somebody like Daddy or Drayden or the Champion of Unova, you'll let them all down.

Drayton rolls his eyes, like he's not sure she meant that as a compliment, and gets a warning glare from over his grandfather's shoulder.

"Glad to hear it," Drayden says. "Boy, you'd better get studying."

Lacey doesn't let them down. She's always been a model student. The sort of student instructors rely on and other students try to copy off. The sort of student who follows the rules when no one's watching.

Even if sometimes, just one time, she wants to know what it's like to shamelessly flout expectations like Drayton or stay out past lights out kissing boys behind the bleachers like the other girls talk about at tea parties.

"Now, if only you'd conduct yourself like Clay's daughter," she hears Drayden still lecturing, as Director Cyrano invites her in.

Drayton's broken voice rebounds down the hall. "Can't you quit it already?"

Lacey's the sort of student other students' families want them to be. And sometimes she's almost scared not to be, like if she doesn't make straight As or sleeps an extra hour and misses class her whole world's going to collapse, and what'll Daddy talk about then?

She shakes off her thoughts and enters the office. "Good afternoon, sir."

"Quite the afternoon, indeed," Director Cyrano says, resting his elbows atop his desk, and she resists the urge to ask if Drayton's in trouble. "I trust you've finished the incident report on those Pyroar that escaped the Terarium?"

"I think you'll find I emailed it this morning."

"Must've slipped my mind." He glances over the stacks of folders spread out before him. "As you can see, the special coach paperwork has been piling up…"

"I'll come in and help with filing tomorrow," she says with a sigh. "You know, it's not right to offload all your duties like this…"

Sometimes she feels the weight of her father's legacy like a load of emeralds on her shoulders—not that she'd ever admit it at the risk of sounding out of touch—and she wonders, would she be such a disappointment if she didn't do so much?

But she stays on top of her training and ahead in her classes and volunteers for everything she can take on and a little bit more. And it's fine.

"Now, where were we?" Director Cyrano asks, searching his papers. "Oh, you've got another one for the peer-assisted study program." He hands her the usual form with the classroom number and time. "It won't be easy, but if anyone can do it…"

Peer-assisted study is a walk in Castelia Park. She helps struggling first-years like she helps everyone anyway, and they're so grateful and the instructors think she's wonderful and last semester one student's mother even sent her a heartfelt thank-you card and a tea cozy.

"Not a problem, sir."

Honestly. Not this again.

"So I was thinking you and me could maybe, if you wanted, um… what would you say to a picnic?" Crispin manages to ask at last. He's spent the last ten minutes not-so-subtly staring from his chair two seats over and starting and stopping bits of sentences.

"A picnic might be nice," Lacey says, treading cautiously, "though I'm quite tied up with League Club and school…"

And she'll have to break it to him someday, spring the X on him sooner or later, but in front of the entire clubroom? He's been polite enough, and he's only in first year, and humiliating people in public—it's just not right, no matter what certain other Elites would like to believe.

Drayton's at the table, not as asleep as he's trying to be. Or pretending to be, she isn't sure, but she can't help noticing the way his lips curve into a smile every time Crispin stumbles.

"League Club picnic?" He pops his head up with a wink at her that she knows from experience means something manipulative. "Sweet. I'll bring snacks."

"I'd be happy to come with tea and cookies," she offers, relief setting in despite the so-not-right of it all. Is Drayton seriously doing this? Is she seriously going to let him?

"Cool," says Drayton. "Amarys, are you in?"

Amarys looks up from the essay she's writing and seems to suspect nothing. "I have some apples I would be willing to share."

"So that's our club social sorted." Drayton sits back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin. "And you guys say I don't do any work."

Crispin grimaces like he wants to fall face first into his frying pan. "Uh… awesome."

That wasn't so well done, was it? She's thinking she could've handled it better, taken him out into the hall and told him let's just be clubmates, when her Rotom lights up.

＠AcademyTea
Spotted: Unova League leader Drayden leaving Blueberry like he means business. A friendly family visit? Trouble with truancy? Your guess is as good as ours…

The whole school follows ＠AcademyTea. It's one of those gossip accounts—anonymous, but not exactly anonymous in the sense that it's obvious. The tea girls must've seen him after Fairy Types earlier.

She sneaks a glance across the table at Drayton. She'd hate to end up on there.

But she sticks to her studies and stays out of trouble and on everyone's good side, so the worst they've said about her is who Daddy is and what he does and that those emerald barrettes she wears in her hair are in fact real—not too bad, all things considered, though it does have a way of scaring boys away, which Daddy's no doubt thankful for and Lacey's not so sure she is.

"Whoa, Drayton!" Crispin says, checking the same feed. "Why didn't you tell us your grandpa was coming?"

Drayton's grin slides off his face, if only for a second. "Hey, there wasn't much to tell."

"Next time you gotta bring him to League Club!"

"Nah, it's cool."

The table shifts as Drayton tenses against it. Crispin, as usual, can't seem to read the room.

"Are you kidding? It'd be fire! Let's get some Unova League leaders in here! Call him up for us and ask!"

"I can bring Daddy in next time he visits," she speaks up—she supposes she does owe Drayton one. "And I'll have him pass on the invitation to some of his colleagues."

"Lacey, you're the greatest!" Crispin says, and she sighs without meaning to—maybe it's harsh, but he still hasn't gotten the hint. "Hey, you think we can get Champion Iris?"

Drayton's expression hardens with resentment. But something holds him back, and he breaks into a laugh. "Man, that's gonna be good."

"What?" she asks. "What's so funny about it?"

"You wanna meet her dad when you look at her like that?" He grins dangerously at Crispin. "Better keep that frying pan handy."

"Drayton! Can you stop?"

So Daddy can be intimidating when it comes to boys. He wants to know where she goes and who she's with and what their intentions are. He just cares about her is all, and he's not about to let her hang around with some lowlife.

She flashes an X at Drayton over her tea set. Crispin mutters an excuse and runs from the room.

Daddy'd probably also like to know their grade reports and disciplinary histories and parents' Rotom phone numbers. He'd like it even better if she didn't date until she graduated, and so far he's had it his way.

"Well, that was fun to watch." Drayton gets up to leave, his gaze lingering on hers long enough to make her wonder. "I'm gonna go grab some fries."

The thing is, sometimes Drayton doesn't look at her all that differently.

The best part of peer-assisted study is, it pays. Real money, not BP.

And most would ask Lacey why she'd need it, with that credit card in Daddy's name tucked away in her Rotom case, but a girl doesn't need Daddy to know about every little charge she makes. Like last Wednesday, when she left the Academy grounds to catch the latest Pokéstar Studios sequel. It's not that they aren't allowed, and he might've said yes if she'd asked, but on a school night?

So she's happy to do it. Even looking forward to it. Until she walks into the classroom booked for her session to find Drayton sleeping at the back.

"Drayton!"

He doesn't lift his head from the desk. "Think you could keep it down?"

"Do you think you could find someplace else to nap?" she says, clutching her books to her chest. "I'm scheduled in here for peer-assisted study, and my assigned student should be arriving any minute."

A pained look passes over him as he sits up. "You sure this is where you're supposed to be?"

She hates that she takes out the form to check. "I-I'm sure."

"Oh, man." Drayton laughs and tilts his chair back, and she almost wishes it'd tip over. "Guess what, Lacey? I'm your student."

"No, you're not!" She jabs her Rotom phone copy of the peer-assisted study program manual in his face. "It says here. Second-years are to be paired with supervising third-years."

"Wanna tell that to Cyrano?"

It's typical, Lacey thinks. Faculty love to pawn off their problem students on the good ones. It's why last year she was stuck sitting beside that kid in Intro to Entry Hazards who once licked a Grimer.

"But it's a conflict of interest," she argues. "We're in direct competition with each other in League Club."

Drayton's smile twists. "That's how you see it?"

"I thought you were getting fries!" she says—and it's stupid, she knows, but it's all she has left.

"Hey, didn't need the whole clubroom finding out."

And honestly, in a way she's bound to feel guilty about later, it's a little gratifying to see him staring down at the desk. For once, at long last, she has something over Drayton.

"Lucky for me, you're not allowed to tell."

He's right. The manual's perfectly clear on that. Volunteers understand and agree that all information regarding students' academic status and participation in the peer-assisted study program shall remain strictly confidential.

"But… you don't care," she says, because it doesn't make sense. "Why sign up for this if you don't care?"

"For real?" Drayton seems to drop the act, and he slouches even lower in his seat than usual. "Grandpa checked up on my midterm grades. Came in demanding a meeting with Cyrano and—well, you saw. No program, no League Club. That's the deal."

All her spite falls away as it sinks in. She'd love to take his rank in League Club—but not like that.

"So let me nap, help yourself to some snacks—"

She flinches at the half-finished candy bar he offers. "Ew!"

"—and we'll be out of here in no time. Easiest job you've ever done, right?"

Up next: The mess that is Drayton's midterms... and the even bigger mess that is Drayton's dorm.