I know I'm posting this chapter sooner than I said I would, but what can I say? I'm really FEELING this one right now, this chapter was quite fun to write. And when I'm already at 500+ views, I feel no need to slow down at the moment.

The title of this chapter comes from the song "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride. Fortunately this chapter is nowhere near as sad as that song is. But enough about that. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope a few of you will tell me your thoughts. Happy reading!

Current music: Do What Feels Good - NIIC the Singing Dog

My alarm clock jolted me from my blissful slumber at what felt like a very early hour. My eyes were still caked shut with the substance they called "sleep", and I yawned as I stretched upward.

"Five more minutes," I moaned. "Just give me five more minutes."

But time waited for no man, woman, or child. If I'd set my alarm for such an early hour (5:00 AM, a full hour prior to my usual wake-up time), there was probably a reason for that. So I got up, gingerly shifting my weight onto the floor.

I was still in my bedroom at the Sacred Heart Institute. Normally, at this hour of the morning, there would be so much dust that if awake, I'd be sneezing my head off. That was yet another reason I despised the place.

Next to my Charmander plushie, I found a note. It was handwritten, and based on how untidy the scrawl was, the author must have been in a hurry.

Dear Barrett,

You should make your way to the sensory room. I've got a surprise for you there.

Sincerely,

Mr. Wellington.

Now, when whatever awaited me in that room was couched in the language of "surprises", you'd better believe that I went for it. I bounded down the hallway, not caring that it was early in the morning and that I might wake someone up.

Today was my day!

When I got to the sensory room, I was greeted by all the colorful objects we'd used as children. There was a ball pit, a series of mini trampolines, rocking chairs, and the hanging cocoon affectionately referred to as the "autism hammock." It was one of the few rooms at Sacred Heart that most of the residents enjoyed, and for good reason.

Mr. Wellington stood at one corner of the room, holding what appeared to be a series of straps connected with one another. There was a fancy word for that arrangement - harness.

"There you are," the hall master stated. "How did you sleep, Barrett?"

I smiled. "Pretty well, though I set my alarm clock too early." Indeed, I'd been tired before, but I wasn't tired anymore.

"Tell me, Barrett" Mr. Wellington replied, "have you ever wanted to fly?"

"Fly?" I'll admit, I was more than a little taken aback at this question.

The hall master nodded. "To flap your wings and soar over the landscape like a bird?"

"Well, of course. Who doesn't want to fly?"

"Someone who's afraid of heights, perhaps? Regardless, if you want to fly, just say the word and I'll fix you with these."

"The word" I responded, taking the saying literally.

Mr. Wellington chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. Reach your arm out."

I did as I was told, and over the next few minutes, the hall master fitted me with all the straps attached to whatever was on my back. Some of them even went around my wrists. Once he was finished, he pointed me over to a mirror so that I could admire his handiwork.

I narrowed my eyes. "It looks like I'm just wearing a backpack. Reminds me of that joke about the smartest man in the world."

"Lift your arms, then."

Sure enough, when I lifted my right arm, an apparatus attached to my wrist made itself known. It was an arc of bronze feathers!

"It's a wing!" I exclaimed.

"Why, yes" Mr. Wellington responded. "It is in fact a wing. Barrett, you're a bird now."

I wanted to jump for joy right there, but there was also an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

"What's wrong?" the hall master continued. "I would think you'd be jubilant."

"I am. At least, I want to be. It's just…" I trailed off.

"You're scared of heights? There's nothing to worry about. Just practice close to the ground, and don't fly too near the sun so that the wings don't melt."

"Like that character from Greek mythology" I muttered. "Yeah, I'd better not be him."

Mr. Wellington rolled his eyes, but in a good-natured way. "At least get your names straight. You might have an exam on Ancient Greece next semester."

"Right" I responded, taking a deep breath and steeling myself for what I was about to do.

"There's a door right there - it goes outside. You know what to do."

"Aren't you going to spot me?" I asked the hall master. "To make sure I don't fall or whatnot?"

"There's no need to" Mr. Wellington said. He seemed pretty certain!

"Okay then" I said, holding my arms close to my chest so as to not brush my wings against the wall.

Once outside, I noticed that a light breeze was blowing through the grass and pine trees. All I needed to do to take flight was to catch the wind with one of my wings, then let Mother Nature do the rest.

So I spread my arms out, and it wasn't more than a few seconds before the wind came along, ruffling my feathers. And then I was off!

At first, it was pretty awkward - my heart was pounding like nobody's business as I flapped my wings feverishly to stay aloft. But once I got the hang of it, I realized I could turn in midair and flap harder to gain altitude.

It didn't take me long to remember why I'd dreamed of doing this for so long. There was something exhilarating about feeling lighter than the air and having the wind in my face, hearing it billow all around me. The wind's louder than you expect it to be when you're on the ground, and it's only when you're in the sky that you truly appreciate its power.

Soon I was high enough that the cars on the road below looked like mere toys, like those matchbox cars some children at Sacred Heart were obsessed with. For all the enjoyment that such toys could bring, I knew that these kids would desert them in an instant if presented with a pair of wings.

This was freedom. The sort of freedom, moreover, that belonged in fantasies, not in real life.

"I could get used to this!" I shouted. "I'm FLYING!"

In the corner of my mind, I thought I heard Mr. Wellington casually remark, "Yes, Barrett, you are", as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. But it was probably just my imagination - more or less, of course, because…

…" all of that was just my imagination!" I wailed, my consciousness resuming in the middle of a very hot day.

I heard someone rush to my side. Skipper. His name is Skipper.

"You talked in your sleep, it seems" Skipper said. The blue dragon leaned over me, pursing his lips. "Does this happen often?"

"You don't understand" I all but moaned. "I had the most wonderful dream. The dreams in which I'm flying are the best I've ever had."

Skipper frowned. "You tried to fly a few hours ago. How much do you remember?"

Suddenly everything came back to me, and that's when I became even more aware of the sun's intensely powerful rays. The UV index here was likely off the charts.

"All of it" I replied through my parched lips. "Sleeping out here was a big, big mistake."

"You're telling me," Skipper replied. "It's likely worse for you since your fur is white."

I glared at Skipper, rolling over onto my very tender chest. "Then why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

He sighed. "Quite frankly, you looked so content that I didn't want to wake you. Plus I forgot about how sensitive albino dragons are to the sun."

"Thanks a lot," I grunted. "Now could you help me up?"

"No problem."

Skipper gave me his paw, which I used to pull myself to my feet. As soon as I was standing, my head swam, and I held my free paw out like the wing of an airplane.

"You okay?"

"Yeah" I mouthed. "It's just…man, I got a lot of sun, didn't I?"

"You sure did. Let's head to my house, okay? You can get some shade there" the blue dragon promised.

It was roughly a mile back to Wildebush and, given my dizziness, I held Skipper's paw the whole time. Fortunately, he didn't seem to mind this, but I felt very conscious of the fact that others would notice. They'd probably think I was disrespecting Skipper's personal space, a phrase used often where I'd grown up.

"Hey, Skipper?" I asked eventually.

"What is it, Barrett?" the blue Charmander replied. "It had better be important, because I'm trying to keep you from eating dirt right now."

"In my dream, I could fly," I told him. "It was amazing."

Skipper gave me a rather concerned look. "Are you sure you aren't badly dehydrated after all that sun?"

"What? No!" I insisted. "That dream felt like real life. So why can't I fly in real life?"

Skipper sighed, which was hardly a satisfying answer for a guy like me who wants to know what I should expect.

"Please tell me," I continued. I must have been staring pretty hard, because Skipper eventually gave in.

"You need to learn. You're not born with it, and it's not as natural as walking."

"But I have literal wings," I pouted.

"Look, Barrett, we're halfway to my house. Do you want to get there or not?"

"I mean…yes."

"Then shut up and walk. Don't waste all your energy on wondering, because it's not going to accomplish anything."

I took Skipper's advice. It wasn't much longer before we reached the edge of the jungle, which coincided with the outskirts of Wildebush. This time, my new friend led me away from the market.

This part of the village was more sparsely populated, at least in terms of houses. There were however some wooden storefronts that might have sold anything from antiques to towels. For all the world, it brought to mind that 19th-century village that the Institute had once taken us on a field trip to, reminiscent of a time when life was so much simpler than it was in the present.

"Do they have towels anywhere?" I rasped eventually. By this time my white fur was drenched, and the sunburns no doubt coating much of my body were itching like crazy.

"Yeah," Skipper said. "One of these stores here - just give me a minute. I've got a few Poké coins I could spend."

Skipper entered the store, leaving me alone. It was then that I noticed just how many villagers there were milling around - clearly, this was the "downtown" area of Wildebush, where most of the businesses were located. So it shouldn't have been surprising that there were many dragons present.

And they were mostly looking at me.

I would have paced back and forth like a caged lion at the zoo, but I just didn't have the energy. Within a minute, my tongue hung out of my mouth like that of a dog, which likely only drew more attention to me.

Just when I thought it might never end, Skipper emerged from the store carrying a green towel roughly the size of a human bath towel. He draped it around the back of my neck, and I instantly felt better.

"Thank you" I mouthed, feeling the moisture soothe my body. My back didn't even itch that much anymore.

"You're welcome," Skipper replied. "Anyway, we're almost there."

Skipper's dwelling was apparently at the bottom of a steep hill. Okay, in an absolute sense it wasn't very steep, but it felt that way to me. The towel was cooling me down, but it was no substitute to actually drinking water, and I knew it.

"Take it slow" Skipper instructed me every few steps. "We'll be at my house in a minute, and then you don't even have to get off the couch."

After what felt like an eternity, we were there. Compared to all the homes I'd previously seen here, Skipper's was on the smaller side. It was a ranch house with a flat roof, making it look like a wooden, one-story version of a Soviet-era apartment block. There was a small garden in front containing a couple plants whose names I could never have guessed.

"Here it is," Skipper told me. "It's not much, but it's home."

I practically beamed. "Are you kidding me? This looks fantastic!"

The blue Charmander grimaced. "You're not saying that just to flatter me, are you?"

"Why would I? It really looks pretty awesome compared to what I grew up with."

It was true. While the house may not have been the most spacious one I'd ever seen, it at least looked like a home as opposed to the halls of the Institute. I mean, Skipper even had a garden, something that could never be achieved where I'd once lived.

On the inside, the home seemed even more cozy. It resembled what I imagined a vacation cottage might look like, with a sofa, armchairs, a rustic-looking kitchen table, and even a fireplace I doubted got much use. The common room took up about half the house, and there were a pair of doors to one side, which I assumed led to a pair of bedrooms. I could only guess that Skipper had a room to himself, while his parents shared the other.

The other side of the home contained a kitchen, from which a very sweet, scrumptious scent wafted into the living room. A blue Charizard stood at the counter, chopping something with the precision of a heart surgeon.

When she saw me, the cook nearly dropped her knife. She let out a slight shriek.

"Mom?" Skipper said.

The blue Charizard gasped. "Look what you made me do! I was so close to getting perfectly equal berry slices, and you just had to ruin it!"

"Sorry, Mom, but I think this is more important," Skipper replied, pointing at me.

As I gulped, Skipper's mother gasped.

"What is this? A white Charmander?"

"What", not "who". This is going "well", isn't it?

"Duh" I mouthed.

"Let me do the talking" Skipper chastised me. Turning back to his mother, he continued as follows: "This here is Barrett, who woke up at our shrine to Arceus a few hours ago."

"Huh" Skipper's mother responded blankly. "How did he get there?"

"I don't know," I told her. Hey, if I had to blurt something out without thinking, I might as well blurt out something true!

"I see. Well, Skipper, where did you find Barrett?"

"He was in the orchard, drinking from the stream like there was no tomorrow. Please let us take him in, Mom."

Now, don't get me wrong: I was very happy Barrett was going to bat for me. But there was something awkward about being referred to the way you'd talk about a stray dog.

Skipper's mother looked torn between potential decisions, and for a moment I was convinced she'd throw me to the wolves. I was already mentally preparing myself for the worst when, to my surprise, she hit me with a smile. (Maybe that's why they call it beaming.)

"He can stay," she responded. " You can stay", she corrected herself.

"Thank you" I mouthed gratefully. "I've got nowhere else to go."

"It's no problem," Skipper's mother replied. "My name's Angela, by the way."

"Barrett" I replied, offering my paw for her to shake. I normally didn't like shaking hands (or paws in this case), but I remembered that this is what you're supposed to do when you meet someone new.

"Well, make yourself at home. Lunch is almost ready - would you like something to drink?"

While the towel had cooled me down, it had done nothing to quench my thirst. I nodded. "That'd be excellent."

So Angela poured me a tall glass of a golden-colored liquid. "This is mango juice," she said. "It's got so many nutrients in it - you wouldn't believe how healthy it is."

I snorted.

"No, really," Angela insisted. "Take a drink, Barrett, and tell me what you think."

So I grabbed the glass and gulped half of it down in a matter of seconds. Right away, I felt like I was in heaven.

I mean, the stuff tasted like it was made from real mangoes, not that processed shit we had in the States. Nothing about the sweetness tasted artificial, and there were no additives I could detect (not that I was an expert on this). It was just pure, unadulterated mango juice, and as it coated my taste buds, I made a satisfied "Ahhhhh" sound.

Angela chuckled. "You really needed that, didn't you?"

"Yep. It's just so hot here, and that's so refreshing. It tastes real."

"You say the word real as though you're accustomed to something else" Skipper's mother noted.

Did I just blow my cover? She probably suspects where I came from.

"It's not that" I lied. "I just really love your mango juice. Did you make it yourself?"

"I wish."

A few minutes later, lunch was served, and we sat around the table to eat it. Angela had made us this multicolored berry salad with what appeared to be freshly-baked bread. Much like the mango juice, it was the sort of bread that did not look manufactured at all - it was made with real ingredients.

"So how are you coping with the heat?" Angela asked me as she served herself a slice of the bread. "I guess you're not used to it?"

Whether she realized it or not, the blue Charizard had steered this conversation into some rough waters. But I had to play along, no matter what.

"No, I'm not," I said eventually. "Where I'm from, it doesn't get this hot or humid."

Skipper shifted a little in his seat.

"Well, I'm not going to ask any questions you don't feel comfortable answering," Angela told me. "But it's very important to eat healthily down here so that you can handle the conditions. They say the people on the surface crave tropical vacations, but it's something entirely different when you live it every day."

I nearly choked on a hunk of the fresh bread. "On the surface?"

The rough waters of this conversation now had white caps. Skipper might not tell his mother where I was from, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be able to make an educated guess.

Indeed, Angela frowned. "I assumed you already knew this, but we're not at the surface. We're below the Earth's crust."

"How far below?" I asked, my curiosity having been piqued.

"Very far" Skipper stated. "Within the core. Have you ever wondered what's at the center of the Earth?"

During our science classes at Sacred Heart, I'll admit that I had a hard time paying attention. It wasn't the fault of the teachers either - my mind wandered like a sleepwalker no matter how hard I tried to make it otherwise. But I'd been able to glean that the Earth's core consisted of superheated rock - basically lava.

Apparently not.

My pupils dilated significantly. "We're at…the center of the Earth?"

Angela nodded. "This land is often called the Garden of the Second Sun. Sometimes it's also referred to as the Lost Underworld."

"Wow" I mouthed.

"I know," Angela replied. "It's a lot to take in. But again, if you're a Pokémon, I would assume that you already knew that. There aren't any of us left on the surface."

I elected not to ask why the surface was devoid of Pokémon. That would only give me away. Instead, I sighed.

"So there's thousands of miles of rock above us" I mouthed.

"A lot of it is rock, yes. How do you feel about that?" Angela spoke like a preschool teacher explaining an amazing fact about the world to a curious pupil, but managed not to make it condescending.

"I don't know," I mouthed. "Because that's the truth."

Okay, maybe not because it was true. More like, and it was true. The veracity of that statement was entirely coincidental.

When I woke up here, I felt freer than I ever have in my life. I still do. And yet I'm also trapped in a secret world at the bottom of the planet.

"It can be hard to comprehend," Angela acknowledged. "Sometimes it's best not to think too much. Here, have some more berry salad."

The berries were truly scrumptious. At Sacred Heart, fresh fruit was nothing to get excited about, but here they were something else. I even learned the names of a few berry species - Oran berries, Pecha berries, Cheri berries, and more!

We were almost done with lunch when there was a knock at the door.

"Who could that be?" I wondered aloud.

"I don't know, but it's better to answer it," Skipper muttered.

"I thought we shouldn't talk to strangers?" I asked, because that was near-universal advice where I'd come from.

Angela winked at me. "There's no such thing as a stranger in Wildebush, Barrett. Do you want to get the door?"

"Sure" I uttered blankly, gingerly getting out of my seat and walking to the door. My heart pounding against my ribcage, I opened the portal between the home and the outside world.

Standing on the other side was a tall female Charizard carrying a handbag. What I noticed most of all was her coloring (white like mine, though seemingly glowing in the hot sun), as well as a series of red markings all over her fur.

I must've looked pretty surprised, because the visitor sized me up for a few seconds before letting out a hearty, good-natured laugh.

"Is now a bad time to barge in?" she asked. Her voice sounded old, but not frail; rather, it was the sort of elderly voice that comes with great wisdom. It had aged like a fine wine, not that I drank wine.

"Uh…no" I mouthed. "Come in."

"Mayor!" I heard Skipper exclaim, which made my stomach drop.

Even in the smaller towns of New England, to have the mayor show up to your home unannounced in the middle of lunch was simply unthinkable. It didn't happen no matter how important you were, and yet here I was on my first day in Wildebush.

The white Charizard, evidently the Mayor of Wildebush, laughed again. "Yes, it's me. Are you busy right now?"

Angela narrowed her eyes. "Ammy, you're the Mayor here, and you're asking us if we're busy right now?"

"Well, it's always wise to be polite," the Mayor replied. "But in this case I would like to speak privately with one of you in particular."

I gulped, because in my mind, one of us probably meant me.

This was confirmed when the Mayor gestured at me. "Barrett. Please come with me - we can go outside for it."

"But I'll burn instantly," I complained. In reality, the sun was a secondary concern at most; the more compelling reason for my objection was my nerves.

"I'll get a towel for you" Angela offered. "If Ammy wants to speak to you, then she gets to do so. You don't refuse an audience with the mayor."

I could hardly argue with that, so a minute or two later, I stood outside the house with Ammy. We looked at each other, but I didn't know if I should make the first move. When you're standing next to the mayor of your new home, what is there to talk about? It's impossibly awkward!

I tried starting with small talk. "So your name is Ammy?"

The white Charizard nodded. "Yes. Well, my legal name is Amaterasu, though it's rather hard to say that. So Ammy it is."

"Okay, Ammy," I replied in a slightly singsong voice, to which the mayor snorted.

"Look, Barrett, now is not the time for small talk. I didn't come here to talk about myself."

Oh, great. That's just great. Am I going to have to pour my heart out to this Charizard lady I just met?

"It's about me?" I asked frantically. "Did you…how did you find out I was here?"

"I have my ways" Mayor Ammy said, leaving open the question of what these ways were.

When I didn't comment on that, the mayor cleared her throat.

"Barrett, I want you to know that everything said here is confidential. It isn't going to leave this conversation, so you can tell me whatever you want."

"How do I know I can trust you?" I inquired.

"Well, Wildebush keeps electing me Mayor by ever-increasing margins, so there you go."

Just because a lot of people believe someone is trustworthy, that doesn't mean they are. Look at that batshit conspiracy theory they're peddling these days - isn't it called QAnon?

But QAnon belonged to the surface. It already belonged to a different time, one in which my dream had yet to come true.

"In any case, Barrett, who are you?"

I raised an eyebrow, bewildered by the question. "I'm Barrett Ashland."

"Sorry, I should clarify: What are you, besides just your name?"

"A white Charmander" I responded, taking the question literally.

Mayor Ammy sighed. "Somehow I don't think that is all you are. For one, you did not use your species as your last name, which is customary in the inner world."

Right away, my world had been shattered. I did not know how widely the damage had been spread, nor how deeply the wounds had penetrated the surface. All I knew with any confidence was that once I divulged this information to the mayor, there would be no going back.

"Fine" I blurted out, before I could say anything else. "I wasn't a Pokémon originally."

The mayor gasped. "How did you become one, then? Did you use some ancient form of magic?"

"I'm not sure if magic exists," I muttered.

"I don't understand, though," Mayor Ammy continued. "There are humans, but they only live on the surface. There are Pokémon, but they only live beneath the planet's crust. The groups haven't mixed since…".

"Since when?" I asked, words I regretted almost instantly. In hindsight, the mayor's tone should have been evidence that she saw the last mixing between humans and Pokémon as a horrific event that should never be repeated.

"It doesn't matter," the mayor replied curtly. "Look, Barrett, your presence here means something."

"Of course it does," I said. "It means I'm a flightless albino Charmander at high risk of various lethal skin cancers."

"It means something far greater than that," Mayor Ammy insisted. "The implications are significant."

"Significant in a good way, I hope? I like being special."

That was one of the few positive things that happened at Sacred Heart. We were often told we were special, and that the world was a better place for having people like us in it. Of course, what they did to us contradicted that assertion, but it still felt good to know you were special.

And now I was a human who'd turned into a Pokémon, who was now able to live out one of his biggest wishes. If that didn't constitute something special, I'm still not sure what did.

"Unfortunately, special can be very dangerous," Mayor Ammy continued. "I don't think you want the rest of the village knowing about your previous life."

"Why not?" I asked.

Mayor Ammy grimaced. "I don't think I should tell you that. If I did, you'd probably be too horrified to think straight. Suffice it to say that this world is not the idyllic paradise you might expect."

"What makes you say that?"

When the mayor did not reply, something else occurred to me.

"Look," I began. "I know that for an albino like me, it's not ideal to be out in the sun during the day."

The mayor gave me a pitying look, like a parent about to tell their child that a loved one has passed away.

"But this place is pretty cool at night, right?" I finished. "I mean, cool temperature-wise. Right?"

Mayor Ammy sighed again. "It's hot here day in, day out" she told me.

"But there's night too, right?" I pressed her, though by this time it was more a form of pleading rather than asking.

"No," the mayor responded after a brief silence. "There is no night in the inner world. There is only day."