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Drayton Can't Take It

The worst part of peer-assisted study is dealing with Drayton.

Just try following introductory procedures while he sits there falling asleep. Try asking him about his academic goals. Or his greatest areas of difficulty when all he'll say is, "Right about now, it's gotta be you. You gonna let me nap or what?"

Try explaining the program's mission statement and mandate while he texts the club members who handle his trial to run to the caf and grab him an Academy Special—which she didn't share, though he offered, because what do they even put on those fries, and seriously, ew.

Now it's way later at night than she'd like and Lacey's awake at her dorm desk with her third cup of tea and a pile of Drayton's midterm evaluations as provided by the student records department in accordance with Drayden's signed permission slip.

It doesn't take long to go over them, because there's not much to go over.

He answered, "Where can you catch a Hitmontop?" with, "In a Poké Ball," which at least got him half a point for being technically not wrong. He answered, "Describe how you would win against a pair of Pokémon using the Plus and Minus abilities," with, "Easily." Drayton writes lazy things like that and the instructors write things like, "Serious answers only, please," and, "See me after class."

He even handed in, "How about taking me on in battle and I'll show you what I know about tactics?" as his last-ditch one-sentence effort at a ten-page Defensive Tactics assignment and had to attend a meeting with the Director.

Lacey giggles in disbelief. It's just so… Drayton.

And so ugh, but she can't help an unthinking smile. She'd never dare try something like that—not without going through official channels to obtain the proper approval in advance, and it's hard not to admire the audacity.

Then she gets to his Fairy Types II midterm and his grade's almost as high as hers, and she feels a stab of something—something awestruck, something bitter, because he's shown up to so few classes she didn't even know he was in her class, and how, just how?

And when she gets to the final essay question on Terastallization, where he's scribbled down a startlingly accurate fully-labeled sketch of an Excadrill complete with big winged Terastal heart and managed to earn most of the marks, she feels a stab of something else, something she's never felt, because there's no question where he learned that.

Lacey sets his sorry excuses for schoolwork aside. That's enough Drayton for now.

"They gave you my midterms?" For a moment, Drayton has the decency to look ashamed. But then that grin spreads across his features, and it's every day at League Club all over again. "Oh, man."

Lacey finally finds it in herself to meet his eye. "It's standard. So I know where you are in your studies."

She's gotten to know her classmates well, spending so much time around the clubroom. How Crispin wields his frying pan like a shield and Amarys checks her watch and Kieran hides behind Carmine and even Carmine hides behind her—to put it politely—strong personality. They all have their things.

"So, I have a few questions," she says, standing over the desk he's somehow made a mess of already.

It's not so obvious, but that's Drayton's. Ream him out, the grin comes out. "I bet."

"First, how are you still in school?"

"Grandpa's still paying the tuition." He shrugs and stares out the empty classroom window. "Guess it beats me sleeping in and leaving snacks around the gym and embarrassing him when his next mayoral campaign comes along."

She sits down next to him, not knowing what to say.

"Could you maybe… not?" she asks at last, frowning at a stray wrapper on the floor, and Drayton sighs like she's missed the entire point. "Second, how do you talk to faculty like that?"

"You'd totally get away with that. They'd call it advocacy skills or whatever else and write you recommendations for student leadership workshops," he teases, nudging her in the side. "Hey, don't act like you don't let Cyrano have it. I've seen you."

She lifts a hand to her cheek to be sure she isn't blushing. "True, but beside the point."

Actually, Drayton has a lot in common with the Director. Sometimes Lacey thinks that's the only thing keeping him from being kicked out of the Academy. They both have this way of offloading their work onto her and other unsuspecting students. When you're an adult, Director Cyrano says, that's called management.

"How did your meeting go, by the way?" she asks. "After your Defensive Tactics assignment?"

"What, that? He thought it was funny."

She imagines Drayton as Director and wants to drop out. No books, just battles. Unlimited junk food in the caf. Classes would commence at noon, and no one would care if you didn't bother. Grades would be directly tied to students' BB League ranks—which would work out fine for her, but still. She'd probably apply for the Paldean exchange program and start her own League Club with Nemona.

"That's… not surprising," Lacey says, with a shake of her head. "Now, if you've finished the practice problems I gave you, I'd be happy to look them over…"

"Nah, it's cool." He smiles, and she berates herself for smiling back. "Do you wanna get fries?"

"Drayton! Did you do the problems?"

"Nope."

"Did you attempt the problems?"

"Nope."

"Did you even read the problems?"

"Nope. So, fries?"

"Why are you so… ugh!"

"Do you talk to all your students like that?" Somehow he's gotten closer than she's used to, and his arm brushes hers as he sweeps that annoying piece of hair from his face.

"N-no!" She curses the double desks and tries to ignore it. "Do you think they all talk to their tutors like that?"

He laughs. "Hey, we go way back."

Sure, they do. They go back like he's the boy Daddy warned her not to play with every year at the Unova League's annual family fun fair.

As expected, they get nothing done, because Drayton will do anything but work. Instead he complains and snacks and tries to nap and wears on her last nerve whenever she elbows him awake.

"Can't I get a break? But I'm so tired, you don't understand…"

"You had all day to sleep!"

"Grandpa called and woke me to go to class!" He sounds affronted by this like only Drayton could.

"Well, did you?"

"What do you think?" he says wickedly. "Hey, you must be tired. From that schedule and the extracurriculars and your total lack of chill…" He gives her a look like he knows all her secrets. "I see you napping in the Terarium. You need this more than I do, Lacey."

"And you need to listen to your grandfather!"

She is tired. Drayton isn't helping.

"Yeah? You should hear him. 'Clay's girl doesn't let League Club get in the way of her studies.' 'Clay's girl got As on all her exams.' You know, I've had it with hearing about Clay's girl."

"That's hardly my fault." She hears her voice rise and feels suddenly vindictive. "Do you know what Daddy says about you? 'I don't wanna hear you've been hangin' out with that Drayton.'"

Drayton leans in. "Does Daddy know about this?"

Daddy doesn't know, and Daddy doesn't need to. It's not hanging out, it's peer-assisted study, which she'd rather do with anyone else in the whole school. And it's not going to lead anywhere, because Drayton's ugh and if anything it's making her like him less, if that's possible.

"Of course not," she says, with an innocent smile. "As you're aware, the peer-assisted study program is strictly confidential."

And he flashes her a grin like, Oh, you're bad.

Nobody looks at Lacey like that. Like Daddy doesn't know every little thing about her. Like she might just break curfew or something someday. Like there's more to her than good grades and by-the-book battles and Drayton likes it.

And in spite of herself, she likes it too, so she looks back at him sternly, because it's just not right.

"Let's start with the simple problems and work our way up," she says. She won't let him throw her off, not again. "In what ways could you reduce the damage from a Tackle?"

"Why bother? My team can tank that, no prob." He adds, like he can't resist, "Not like you don't know."

"I also know that when you wrote that on the exam you scored a zero for that question. So there's Reflect, there's moves that raise your Pokémon's defense…"

"Moves that lower your opponent's attack…"

"Good. What else?" When he doesn't answer, she starts, "There's a berry that halves normal-type damage…"

"Tell me you've ever seen someone use that," he says—and he has a point, but still. "That's one problem down. Now can we get fries?"

This is the boy she can't beat. No matter the Pokémon, the movesets, the hours spent poring over upper-year texts and borrowing supplementary materials from Dragon-Type Studies instructors and following that one leader in Galar who posts more selfies than strategies.

Lacey stands up from the desk. "How am I supposed to teach you if you don't do the work?"

"How 'bout we don't and say we did?"

She knows where this is going—hands over her heart in the shape of an X—and Drayton knows it, too. He's already mimicking her, which only makes her frustration grow and her voice go loud enough to turn heads in the hall.

Like she said, they all have their things.

Needless to say, it's tense between them in the clubroom later. Lacey's very pointedly talking to everyone but Drayton, because he's annoying and ugh and she can't get away from him soon enough.

"How's student council?" she asks Amarys.

"Uneventful."

Well, Amarys isn't always one for talking.

"How's field research?" she asks Carmine.

"Not up to much."

Carmine's been around League Club a lot more lately, now that the Academy's less permissive about extracurricular outings after Ms. Briar led her and Kieran into some off-limits part of Paldea where this Pokémon Terapagos got a little out of hand and it happened to precede their extended leave from school.

"How's your study thing?" Crispin asks her.

No one knows it's Drayton. They assume it's first-years as usual, and for confidentiality's sake, she hasn't corrected them.

"Not up to much, either." She pours more tea into her cup, so upset she spills onto the saucer. "Normally I'd be making progress, but some people…"

"That bad?" Crispin reaches into his picnic cooler. "Hey, want a sandwich?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry."

Drayton stirs half-awake in his spot at the table, and Lacey realizes what she has here. She can say anything—as long as she doesn't say it's him. He can't say anything back—not without telling the whole club.

She has Drayton exactly where she wants. He deserves this, after all that. She deserves this, after all that.

"It's worse than bad," she says, as Drayton's eyes drift open and she determinedly avoids them. "Some people won't listen. Some people won't pay attention. Some people won't do the work. Won't even try to do the work."

"Inexcusable," says Amarys. "I recommend you inform the Director."

"Yeah, have you talked to Cyrano?" asks Carmine.

"I'd like to keep this within the peer-assisted study program." She winces as she says it, well aware of the hypocrisy there. "I… I don't want to. I don't just… fail at things."

Drayton looks up from his not-quite-nap, his expression growing darker by the second. He must fail at a lot of things, that's all. It's not that she's crossed a line this time, and he's struggling to keep it chill under his carefree exterior even though he wants to choke on his semester-old snacks.

"I gave him these problems to do, and he wouldn't even give them a glance," she goes on, ignoring the feeling that something's not right. "It's a joke. A complete joke."

"Wow, Lacey, let it out," Crispin says, watching her admiringly. "Wanna borrow my frying pan? Wanna go to the Savanna and set stuff on fire?"

"W-what?"

"Like barbecue. Not like bad fire." He fidgets with the strap on his cooler. "I mean, uh, if you're not busy—"

"I am busy! As if I'm not already at my limit with League Club and classes and the students in the program who actually study…" She turns away from Crispin—maybe he'll get the hint for once—and appeals to Amarys instead. "It's a waste of my time, is what it is!"

Drayton's face hardens further. He pushes back his chair and walks out.

"Huh?" says Carmine. "What's with that bozo?"

"I wouldn't know." Lacey delicately sips her tea. "Has the cafeteria run out of fries again?"

He's ten minutes late for their next session, which is typical Drayton.

But then ten turns into twenty turns into thirty which is not so typical Drayton, and Lacey begins to wonder if even though she didn't technically violate the confidentiality of the peer-assisted study program, what she did just wasn't right.

That's how she finds herself standing outside his dorm. She knows exactly which it is.

No, not like that. Because of the various cleaning infraction notices taped to the door.

After her fifth knock, Drayton pokes his head out. "Do you mind? Kinda trying to nap here…"

"Can we talk?"

He cracks a mocking smile. "Don't waste your time."

"I… I came to apologize."

Drayton doesn't let things go as easily as his laid-back attitude might suggest—they all learned that from the Kieran episode—but he doesn't turn her away, either. "Come on in, then."

The infractions don't lie—Drayton's dorm looks like it hasn't been cleaned since he moved in. She can barely make out the color of the carpet under all that laundry. (It'll be blue, because everything's blue here, but still.) His bed's unmade, comforter thrown aside, and he sits down amid crumpled sheets. The standard school-issued calendar hangs halfway off the wall. It's on the wrong month, and even the wrong year.

He laughs at her expression. "Say something. I know you want to."

"Not as bad as I thought it was going to be."

"Hey, they don't grade us on our dorms."

Lacey's not sure that'd make a difference to Drayton, but she's not sure that'll help her apology, either.

"I'm sorry," she says, positioning herself carefully at the corner of his bed. His desk chair's covered in discarded clothes so she can't even sit, and maybe that's his first issue. "I shouldn't have said… all of that."

The thought of being in Drayton's sheets gives her some kind of feeling in her stomach. Which is definitely only because who knows when the last time he washed them was. Ew. She won't think about that. Or the fact that he sleeps in these.

"Rules are rules, and even if I didn't technically break them—"

"You had to add that, huh?"

"—it wasn't right, and it isn't fair. I'll talk to Director Cyrano and ask him to assign you another volunteer," Lacey finishes with a perfectly straight face—only to lose it altogether when he reaches for her shoulder as she gets up to leave.

"Don't." Drayton's staring at her with that look again. "Seriously, please don't."

Yes, that look—and this is the last place she needs to see it. She's in his room, disaster or not, and he's lying there with his t-shirt all bed-rumpled and she might be staring at him too, and it's all the more reason to end this now before she says or does something she can't take back.

"I know I slack on a lot of things. Just never saw how much it got to you." He grabs an old Evolutions text off the floor. It's last year's cover, and he's not even enrolled in the course anymore. "Let's start over. Teach me stuff."

"W-what? How do you expect us to get any work done in here?"

"In my bed? Whoa, Lacey, never took you for a flirt."

He's always a little teasing, like they're circling the edge of something, and in moments of weakness, she likes the feeling. And he's having too much fun with this and her mind's spinning out of control and somehow she's sitting down again, snack wrappers and all.

"In this mess! Honestly, it's just not—"

He catches her hands as they're almost in an X. "Come onnnn, don't say it."

Lacey glances down and smiles without meaning to. There's a half-eaten donut under her elbow. "Ew!"

"Wondered where that went." Drayton picks it up and jokes, "Want a bite?"

"Ew!" She averts her eyes. "Hey, what are those?"

Beside the textbooks cluttering his shelves—some still in shrink wrap, which is both entirely unsurprising and explains a lot—he's got these dusty old scrolls, right next to a row of equally dusty action figures she doubts he ever touches.

"Fight 'em Fraxure 'n' Friends. Is it break time already?"

"No, those!"

The dust is to be expected—she's seen the spare club uniforms Drayton drags out of the depths of his closet—but those scrolls aren't even for school. The Academy store doesn't sell anything that old, and she'd know—she helps out behind the counter sometimes when staff is low and Director Cyrano asks.

"Dragon lore," Drayton says, like it's nothing out of the ordinary. "Old family strategies, what we do at the gym back home… you know, stuff."

"Can I see?"

He reaches up and hands her one. She chokes on the dust and coughs a little. "Ew."

"Say 'Ew' again. I dare you."

Lacey unrolls the scroll and begins to examine it. It's nothing like their school texts—a lot of old diagrams and drawings, and the concepts are laid out differently from how they're taught in class. But it's not simple. Not in the least.

"Drayton, these are high-level tactics. They don't even cover this in Dragon Types III, and I'd know, because…" She stops herself just in time. That's not something she wants to admit. "Have you actually read all these?"

"Had to." He shrugs. "My great-great-grandpa wrote these."

They might be everything she's missing. What she needs to understand why Drayton is so Drayton. Teach Drayton. Beat Drayton. A guilty thrill accompanies that last thought. She wouldn't… would she?

"Could I borrow them?"

"Go ahead."

Lacey can't believe it's that easy.

But then he grins. "I know what you're doing. You think you're gonna study these and stomp me."

"So… you're still going to lend me the scrolls?"

"Yeah, have at it. It'll be fun."

She gets up to retrieve the rest and—

"Ew!" There's a crumpled piece of paper stuck on her shoe, thanks to something sticky that might've once been the jellybeans from the Academy Special—double ew.

He tosses her a handful of cafeteria napkins. "Guess I'd better get cleaning if I'm gonna have you in here."

She flushes hot at the suggestion and concentrates on getting her shoe unstuck. And she'd think after all this she wouldn't feel like that, but… "What's this?"

"Nothing."

It doesn't look like nothing. It looks a whole lot like the practice problems Drayton didn't do.

Lacey looks from his overflowing wastebasket to his other wastebasket, which upon looking closer is the long-dead remains of the standard school-issued plant. About ten more crumpled papers lie scattered around it. She picks up one, then another.

"You're really gonna go through my trash?"

"They're not in the trash. They're around the trash."

"Always with the particulars, Lacey."

"You did try!" She reads them. All of them. Never mind the wrappers and bits of snacks stuck on. His answers are more wrong than right. But… "You tried a lot. And ate a concerning amount of junk food."

He sits up with shoulders hunched. "Rub it in, why don't you?"

"It's okay that you don't get this," she says, more softly. "I'll teach you to get it. But if you don't tell me what the trouble is, I can't help."

Drayton lets out an empty laugh. "We might be here a while."

Lacey glances around at the mess of laundry and last semester's unfinished worksheets and she must be wrinkling her nose or something, because he sighs and gets up.

"You wanna take a walk?"

Maybe it's another distraction. But he's got that look—yes, that one again—and she's nervous in here, a tempting kind of nervous, but tense nonetheless, like she's in his space, intruding on things he doesn't show, and she doesn't want to spend another moment with Drayton's used socks.

So she goes with him.

Up next: The things they confess, and the things they can't just yet...