AN: Approximately a year and a half ago, I wrote my first main fanfic: Camp Pokemon. I wrote 54 chapters for it, each one filled with adventure, lore, and ridiculousness.

But while it was an awesome story, eventually I began to find it lacking. With too many characters, a kind of mismatched all-over-the-place story, endless cut content, and a lack of any concrete planning, I finally dropped it on hiatus and then ended up discontinuing it.

However, I have learned much since. And as I write all these other stories and grow in skill, I couldn't help but remember Camp Pokemon, and what it could've been. What it can now be.

It is time for Camp Pokemon: Remastered.

Hopefully you all will enjoy this new roller coaster ride of craziness, lore, and adventure! It should prove to be even more chaotic than the last… (-o-)

Gavin's POV

I really don't know how to start this.

For most stories, it's easy. You just imagine a world, build some characters, find a place to start, and introduce the main character and the setting. Boom. Done. Easy, mostly.

But when it comes to a story that happened to you…I dunno, it just seems harder. The setting is very personal. The world isn't neatly lined out for you. The main character is nearly impossible to identify, because everyone is in their own way.

And then of course there's the worry that I might miss a few things. We forget stuff. We invent other stuff to replace what we forgot, and believe that's what was real. Memories are traitorous things, and even if everyone was there at the same event no one remembers it identically. There's always some difference. Maybe a small one, but it's always there.

Sigh…there's no use procrastinating. It all started one day in Perrington Elementary High.

Yes, we've heard all the jokes about our school name. It is not a high school for little kids. Our first principal just decided to name it that for some weird unknown reason.

But believe it or not, that is the least weird thing about this place.

One of the first things you learn here is to never open the thirteenth door. It doesn't matter which door - if you open a thirteenth door at school that day, something mysterious happens to you and no one ever hears from you again. Understandably, this has raised a schoolwide superstition that thirteen is a cursed number, although a test conducted by some of the science students suggests that no other combination of thirteen affects your luck in any way.

The next major weird thing is that the principal changes every year, but every time his name is Billy Joe Bob Smith. Each one looks and sounds different, but all of them share that name. This has been going on for nearly two centuries, which can be seen by the long hallway of portraits all marked with that name.

The true story behind the Billy Joe Bob Smiths could be its own book, but that is not this one. What happened to us was arguably stranger.

It all started on the last week of school, when an announcement came on over the intercom.

At the time, I was in the locker room trying to find my locker (every evening they seemed to be rearranged, so it was never in the same spot you had left it) but stopped as soon as the familiar alarm bell rang, signifying that the intercom was on.

" - and I would like three pineapple pizzas to torment the others! Make sure to 'ham' it up with the meat, haha! Shoot, I sat on the intercom button!", came the principal's voice.

An awkward silence ensued.

"Well, at least I had an important announcement to make anyways.", he muttered.

He cleared his throat, and declared, "Students of Perrington Elementary High! You may all remember how over the last nine months our beloved art teacher Mrs. Munchkin was getting increasingly odder and rounder. Well, last night she had the audacity to create a baby! As such I had to hurry and find a replacement, but thankfully there was already one lined up and ready to go! Be sure to give Miss Melody a warm welcome!"

He muttered, "Except you, Zoe. I know what your 'warm welcomes' involve. I'd prefer if you just avoided doing anything."

Zoe was the school prankster and a legend around the place. No one had ever figured out how she'd parked the principal's car on the roof. Or how she made the teachers' toilets flush backwards. It was widely known that the principal wanted desperately to expel her, but the rules said he could only do that if he could catch her with his bare hands.

And no one had ever been able to catch her.

"Anyways, that's all!", he declared, "You can meet the new teacher if you all GET TO CLASS for once. Hugs and kisses!"

The intercom short-circuited, and we hurried towards the art class before the bell tolled. None of us wanted to be in detention. We had all heard horror stories of that place. No one escaped in one piece.

I was very curious to see what our new teacher would do. We had just finished the big final project of the year, and I wasn't sure what was left for Miss Melody to teach.

Along the way to class, I spotted some familiar faces and smiled. Last year, during the science fair some senior students decided to try and interview every student to figure out a precise definition for "Pokemon nerd". They ended up classifying it as someone who really loved Pokemon, could list at least 151 of them off the top of their head, played at least three of the games, and, last of all, would be happy being turned into a Pokemon. That last one had been a weird one, but many said yes.

After all, it kinda sucks being human sometimes.

Anyways, the students went on to win the fair for their "original, comprehensive, and intense research" and/or bribing the teacher with copious amounts of chocolate. Additionally, now we Pokemon nerds knew of each other's existence, which led to many new friendships and a mutual bond. In the beginning, bullies had tried to make fun of it, but quickly learned their lesson now that we had each other's backs.

While I hadn't exactly made any friends of my own yet, it was still nice to know that there were people who'd have my back here.

I had yet to learn exactly how important that would be.

After a bit of hurried walking, I reached the art class. I noticed many of my fellow students were already there, which made me feel a little awkward. But at least I wasn't late.

Looking around, I spotted our new teacher reading through a long list of names. Clearly she was trying to figure out who she needed to check attendance for - not an easy task, since those lists had EVERY student who was ever enrolled in the school on them, and it wasn't entirely clear which ones were currently here and which ones were dead. I noticed she had a notebook next to her, which she was writing certain names down in. Smart of her. Most of the other teachers just used the full list, which meant attendance took at least an extra ten minutes than it probably did in other schools.

As I sat down at my desk, I took a better look at her. She was very short, I noticed - many of us were at least a foot taller than her. She had long pink hair braided into a flowing ponytail that reached down to her knees, and she had large pristine blue eyes - so blue to almost be unnatural. She wore a simple pink skirt and blue shirt, which starred a grinning Mew giving a thumbs-up. So she was another Pokemon fan!

That wasn't something you saw in teachers very often, or at all in my experience. Coach Vernon maybe, based on what others had told me, not that I had really interacted with the guy on a friendly basis. I was absolutely terrible in PE, and he usually chatted with the sports team kids anyways. So if he was a Pokemon fan, I certainly wouldn't know it.

And the rest of the teachers weren't at all interested in the subject, and Mrs. Crabb the math teacher literally despised it. Then again, she despised everything. Only thing she enjoyed was making us suffer, which was why she taught math.

As such, an already widely-hated class became literal hell. Literally. There was a pentagram scratched out behind the blackboard and it was roasting hot in there, although whether that was invisible demons or Mrs. Crabb turning the thermostat up ungodly high to torture us no one knew. Plus no one could say all these complex math equations and stuff didn't sound like they were made by some devil seeking to torment generations of high school students.

…I'm getting way off topic here, aren't I.

Anyways, our new teacher finished going through her list, and looked over the now-full classroom. "Hello everyone!", she greeted cheerfully, her voice high and cheery, "My name is Miss Melody, and I'll be your new teacher for the rest of the semester, short as it is. You must be wondering what we're gonna do today, since after all you did finish your final."

She smiled and clapped her hands together. "And the answer is, whatever you kids like! This is art class, after all, where your creativity is meant to flow. So let it flow! I'll be over at the desk if you happen to need anything."

She sat down and started calmly knitting something, humming a tune of some sort.

"Is she sure about this?", whispered a kid. This was Wendell Adams, the school band leader and top singer. He had short trimmed black hair, calm blue eyes, and a neat black suit complete with a grey tie as well as fashionable red pants. There was a purple microphone in his pocket, ready for any impromptu performance. He was generally rather calm, easygoing, and far more social than I was.

"I mean…", he continued, glancing around the room, "Telling some of these kids they can do whatever they want isn't exactly a recipe for good times."

"Ah, who cares?", said another student, and I inwardly cringed. This was my sister Brianna, who prided herself on being cool, dark, edgy, and always teasing me. She and I were twins, with both of us having black hair, brown eyes, and thin builds. However, while I preferred wearing quiet, casual clothing like single color T-shirts and blue jeans, she went all out on the punk look, with tattered black pants, dark graphic tees (her current one featured an Umbreon staring out with the caption "I am watching you"), combat boots, and a black leather jacket.

However, the one thing we both had was a silver necklace with a star on it. We both kept it on at all times, and it was perhaps the thing that bonded our very different personalities the most.

Brianna smirked at Wendell. "After all, our natural chaos is what makes Perrington Elementary High Perrington Elementary High."

"I thought that was Mr. Billy Joe Bob Smith.", muttered Wendell timidly.

Brianna shrugged. "Him too, I guess. But who cares about him? We're the real stars of the show."

She nodded at Wendell's mic. "Sometimes literally, heheh."

"That wasn't funny!", some kid called.

Brianna glared in their direction. "Shut up. Who said it was meant to be?"

Some grumbling ensued.

I sighed, and slipped out my notebook, where I started writing away at one of my numerous stories. I had an absurd number of them, yet I somehow kept all the details straight.

As I wrote, I noticed someone sneaking quietly over to Miss Melody's desk. My eyes widened. Oh no, it was Zoe, and it was clear she wasn't up to any good.

She was rather short, much like the teacher, although she was still taller. Her black hair was styled up in a pixie-style haircut, and was threaded with purple highlights. Her mischievous eyes were a wicked hazel, and she had a devilish grin. She wore, as usual, a black dress and red leggings, and she was carrying a suspicious looking bag.

I looked away, hoping to pretend I hadn't seen her when she pulled off her inevitable prank. As such, I didn't see what happened next.

There was a loud yelp, and Zoe slid across the floor and bonked into Brianna's desk. Her package was missing, and I looked up to see Miss Melody still humming and knitting, although her eyes were now focused on Zoe. Everyone was spooked. Had Miss Melody somehow caught Zoe, before she could pull off one of her pranks?

Judging by Zoe's amazed expression, that was exactly what happened. But looking at everyone else, no one appeared to have actually seen what had happened.

Miss Melody seemed completely unaware of everyone's astonished reactions, as if this was a completely normal occurrence. Zoe went and sat calmly at her desk, her eyes carefully scrutinizing Miss Melody and her desk. She was normally rather rambunctious and hyperactive, so seeing her completely still and focused was very unnerving. I hoped Miss Melody realized just what she was in for.

The rest of the class was miraculously uneventful, Zoe's little mishap probably serving as an example to stay in line. There was a lot of whispering though, all wondering what exactly the new teacher had done.

Miss Melody was remarkably unfazed by all this whispering, and every few minutes or so she'd put aside her knitting to check on everyone's projects. Not much was being done on anyone's end, but there were still some writings and drawings and other miscellaneous stuff. Brianna was currently trying to draw an Umbreon, which Miss Melody looked rather interested in. She also gave a good review of my writing, which made me feel rather warm and fuzzy. Not many bothered to do such a thing.

(Yes this may be a silent cry to anyone bothering to read this)

When the hour approached its end, Miss Melody announced, "Excellent work, everyone! But before you go leave to…" she shuddered, "math class, I have something to announce to you all!"

She smiled. "You see, I thought you all might appreciate the opportunity to go to a summer camp! So I set up multiple different ones you could go to. And I know many of you will like one in particular…just keep an eye out for the pink flyers at lunch time! I'd recommend looking up, they are flyers after all." She giggled slightly. "Anyways, see ya later kids!"

As we all walked out, everyone immediately started bursting into chatter about how she had managed to outwit Zoe. There was a little talk about the potential summer camps, but it was mostly about Zoe. The prankster in question seemed to have vanished - whether to plot her revenge or cope with this crippling failure, I had no idea. Both were terrifying concepts.

I slipped quietly ahead, where I quickly came across an alarming scene.

It was a group of fashionably dressed girls surrounding a boy, who was crouched against the wall as they glared at him judgementally. I noticed a small plush Absol lying on the floor, the lead girl's fancy shoes poised to crush it.

I recognized the boy as Anthony, a shy guy who was a lot like me, but was an artist instead of a writer. He often wore casual, unassuming clothes, like his white Absol hoodie and blue jeans. His long black hair covered his resigned face.

The lead girl, meanwhile, was Kate, who was somehow the most popular and most hated girl in our grade. She was tall and always wore fancy clothes, as well as constantly carried around her glittery designer handbag. Her purple hair was styled into a long ponytail, and her piercing red eyes glared at everyone like poison needles. She was often a huge jerk to everyone who wasn't in her friend group, which was basically all snobbish rich girls like her.

She crossed her arms and glared at Anthony, her foot prepared to press down on the poor plush. "Look, I knew you were a hopeless nerd before, but this? This is pathetic." She scoffed at the toy beneath her foot. "Seriously, what kind of baby has a Pokemon plush that they take to school?!"

I knew it would be very easy just to walk away. I wasn't big or strong or brave or anything. But I also couldn't just let Kate bully him like that.

"Hey!", I shouted, "Leave him alone!"

Kate rolled her eyes as she looked towards me. "Oh look, it's the little nerd standing up for his nerd friend. Move it, loser. You couldn't even win a fight against a paper doll."

I felt a fierce surge of embarrassment. Of course she had heard of that.

But it wasn't a fair comparison! That paper doll was incredibly nasty and had left me covered in cuts for days!

…This is probably detracting from my totally heroic performance here.

I puffed my chest out defiantly and declared, "That was different. I can totally take you."

Kate gave a mocking giggle. "Don't make me laugh, you little shrimp. Now get out of here before I have to get my lovely manicured hands dirty."

I felt rather aggravated, and prepared to step forward and probably get my butt kicked. But at that moment, I heard heavy footsteps thudding down the hall.

Immediately we all spun around and pretended like we hadn't just been about to fight, for walking right towards us was the infamous Janitor.

The Janitor did not have an actual name, as far as any of us knew. He was massive, standing nearly eight feet high and five feet wide, with long thick knotted gray hair weaved into a mane and beard that covered his face and chest. His eyes were constantly buried behind a fringe of hair, and he carried a rather large mop that was almost as big as I was.

He was whistling cheerfully as he strode down the hall, and he walked right past us without a word. His boots, I noticed, had left a trail of mud behind him, not that he seemed to notice he was dirtying his own floors.

As he walked away, Kate huffed and stormed away, her clique following close behind her. Anthony carefully reached down and picked up his plush, looking rather pale.

"You all right?", I asked.

"Yeah.", Anthony sighed, "I guess."

I walked over to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't let those nasty girls get to you. They're just jealous of how cool your Absol is."

Anthony scoffed. "Really."

I shrugged. "Maybe, I dunno. Doesn't really matter. They just want to be mean as far as I know. Which is why everything they do doesn't matter. They'll get caught one of these days and that'll be the end of that. Hmmm…unless they bribe the principal…wouldn't put it past them."

Anthony nodded softly. "Hey, thanks for trying to stand up for me, man."

I smiled. "No problem. Us Pokemon nerds got to have each other's backs! Uh, not literally of course. I don't want to know what Zoe would do with someone's back."

Anthony chuckled. "Yeah, probably not a good idea to give her one."

He looked around. "We should probably hurry to class, before Mrs. Crabb roasts us."

We both immediately took off, not wanting to let that happen. (-o-)