Thank you all for reading this far, and especially the two new favorites and follows! This is chapter three squared, as they say!

This chapter does have some violence in it, but it's fairly cartoonish. That's just a small content warning for you all, not that I think many of you will be bothered by it. Anyway, here is the chapter, so enjoy!

Current music: Don't Panic - Coldplay

The high did not wear off for the rest of the weekend. Every few minutes, I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I'd fallen into the trap of "too good to be true" before, and I didn't want that to happen again.

And it was at least conceivable that this fantasy was just that - a fantasy. Maybe I'd wake up in a lab and remember that I'd paid a handsome sum of money to take part in a simulation, a world in which Pokémon were real. And I'd wake up disappointed, maybe even heartbroken, because some dreams are just too incredible to give up.

But it did not seem that way. It seemed as though I'd finally achieved the impossible, and I was practically jubilant as I skipped back to Wildebush that Saturday afternoon.

Taking off was one of the most gratifying sensations imaginable. If you can envision standing in a wide-open space, spreading your arms out so that your wings are revealed, and allowing the wind to scoop you up as though you're its toy, that's roughly what it felt like. Giving myself over to the various gusts that circulated over the Garden of the Second Sun wasn't an easy task, but it was a leap of faith - you had to be convinced that it'd work before you tried it.

Now that I knew what it felt like, I didn't think I'd ever tire of the experience.

Of course, just because I could fly, that didn't mean I was suddenly invincible. Far from it. As such, I knew to give the area above the pyramid a wide berth - the last thing I wanted was to be shot down again, but this time from a far greater height.

Another discovery was that flying was tiring. It burned far more calories than walking, running, or even swimming - which, considering how much force it took to keep a Charmander in the sky, made sense. Angela even joked that her grocery bills were about to go up by over thirty percent, because I was always hungry whenever I returned from a flight. I was also quite sweaty much of the time, so she'd order us to shower before we entered the house. (Fortunately, there was an outdoor shower at most Wildebush homes.)

There were many times during those first two days that I fantasized about teleporting to the Sacred Heart Institute and spreading my wings. The reason I'd do this would be to send the message that they didn't own me, and that I was capable of more than they'd even thought possible.

In reality, of course, there was no way back to the surface that I knew of. Quite frankly, I didn't care - I was more than content with my new life in the inner world. There was no reason to go back to my old one, but that didn't stop me from wondering about the what-ifs.

Whenever I walked through Wildebush, I suddenly felt like I belonged here. Like I'd achieved a rite of passage, and that was one thing my detractors couldn't take away.

Sunday, according to Angela, was Arceus' Day, just like the more religious types on the surface referred to it as the Lord's Day. As such, she informed me, she was heading to the village's shrine in order to pray. Despite Skipper's refusal to accompany his mother, I decided to go with her.

"On one condition," I said. "I get to fly there."

When Angela said yes, I quite literally jumped for joy. Then I unfurled my wings and caught the wind, rising above the village and flapping my wings in the direction of the shrine. (By this time, I had a decent mental map of the Wildebush region, including the mango orchard where Skipper had discovered me that first day.)

Once at the shrine, I stood with the dozens of other worshippers around the incense burner, which stood adjacent to the small, serene spring in the corner of the shrine's grounds. There was something about the sight that made me relax. Here, nobody judged me for wanting to rock back and forth during the service. There was no pressure to remain silent the whole time and to sit criss-cross-applesauce for Bible study.

"Thank You, Arceus, for all You have given us" I heard one of the older Charizard announce. There didn't seem to be a designated leader of the congregation - to the extent it was even a "congregation", it was clearly a highly decentralized one. Honestly, it was a welcome departure from the rigid hierarchy of the Roman Catholicism I'd grown up with.

All around the shrine, dragons produced cards on which they'd written their wishes and dropped them in the incense burner. A few of them stood by the stream, listening to it trickle as they presumably meditated about a matter for which they needed wisdom.

"Make a wish, Barrett," Angela told me.

I frowned. "Is it…is it like praying?"

Angela smiled. "Well, it's not like praying. It is praying. You're asking Arceus for something."

There were any number of things I could have asked. For instance, if two dragons prayed for outcomes that contradict one another - such as, say, opposing teams in a sporting event - whose prayers took precedence? What if someone prayed very hard for something they desperately needed, and it didn't happen? Or, perhaps the most compelling question: Why pray when you could actually do something more tangible?

Of course, if I asked this to one of the staff at Sacred Heart, they'd have a complicated answer. And perhaps these answers had to be complicated - the universe was never as simple as many wanted it to be.

In any case, although I wasn't sure how much I bought into this whole prayer thing, I wrote my wish on a card. I wish to keep having adventures in this world with Skipper and his friends.

Before I dropped that card in the incense burner, however, I paused. If I made a wish, I'd better be prepared for it to come true.

Because it very well might.

I read what I'd written a couple times over. The wish seemed inoffensive enough, so I figured I might as well drop it in and hope for the best. And that's what I did.

"You look nervous, Barrett" Angela remarked when I stepped to her side by the spring.

"I guess…wait, how did you know?" I replied, a bit taken aback.

She chuckled. "I guess it's because I'm a mother. I can just tell sometimes."

"Well, maybe I am," I muttered, trying to keep things vague. "Maybe I'm not."

Angela snorted with laughter, though it was a wholesome sort of laughter - the kind that could have melted the world's most massive glacier in one fell swoop.

I didn't tell her the truth that day. I didn't explain why placing the wish in that urn felt like tempting fate. But in the back of my mind, I wondered if she could read minds. After all, she was a mother, and she could just tell sometimes.

Monday was uneventful; or at least, as uneventful as a day can be after something as momentous as sprouting wings occurred two days prior. School was difficult, but not quite as painful as it had been the first two weeks. Maybe I wasn't on Cloud Nine, but I was at least on Cloud Five.

Tuesday, on the other hand, was when everything hit the fan. In the weeks to come, I would look at Tuesday as a key tipping point in my life - events would be divided between before Tuesday and after Tuesday.

I woke up earlier than usual that morning. Of course, in a land without any night, it didn't matter quite so much at first glance. I could just tell that I had slept about half an hour shorter than I typically did.

"Morning, Barrett" Skipper yawned. He stood over me as though he'd just been watching me sleep. (Kind of a creepy thought, but whatever - the day had just begun.)

"Good morning, Skipper," I said with a smile. "How did you sleep?"

"I feel like I didn't get enough of it, to be honest" my roommate admitted. "Which means that I need something extra to wake up."

I winked. "A cup of coffee?"

It must be said that I was joking here. Under normal circumstances, I swore off coffee and all other caffeinated beverages - wasn't I still growing, after all? Besides, the taste was atrocious in my view, even if it needed to be acquired.

"On the contrary," Skipper replied with a slight smirk, "I was wondering if you wanted to take an early morning flight with me."

I was hardly going to say no. Even after a few days with this power, the prospect of using it again filled me with vigor as I pictured the exhilarating experience that was flying over the inner world.

A few minutes later, we stood just outside the house, holding out our wings like the body of a kite, waiting for a perfect gust of wind that would lift us into the sky. For whatever reason, it was taking its sweet time to come.

I lowered my head. "Skipper, maybe it's not going to happen today. Maybe we should go inside and fly after school."

"Let's give it another minute or two," my roommate offered.

Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, my wings were buffeted by a giant gust, and I staggered forward awkwardly, achieving a less-than-graceful liftoff shortly thereafter. (Later, Skipper would tell me that he laughed at the sight of said takeoff, but I was already too far away to hear him.)

My heart was now weightless, and so was my body, as I climbed thirty feet in the air. Then sixty. Before I knew it, I was so high up I could see the top of the pyramid I'd climbed not long ago. That was restricted airspace, I reminded myself. No overflight permitted.

But that hardly mattered as I spread my wings further, the columns of air taking me higher and higher. I was rising up to cruising altitude, and from here I would be warmed by the sun - flying was more exhausting than swimming, but also more relaxing than sunbathing.

"Hey, wait for me!" I heard Skipper shout, but from this height his tone was a bit muffled. I think the next thing he yelled was something like, YOU'RE GOING TOO HIGH!

So I moved my wings into the "big ears" maneuver, shaping them rather like a pair of headphones and allowing that to carry me downward. And then I saw Skipper - that cerulean dragon was at a considerably lower level. Given the sheer volume of the gusts, it's a wonder I'd been able to hear him at all.

I finally settled into the same altitude as Skipper, and we soared over the treetops for a while. As incredible as the view had been from the top of the pyramid, there was nothing quite like experiencing it with the wind in your face and on your wings.

Speaking of the wind, it's a lot louder than you expect it to be. Whenever you're on the ground, you often feel powerful gusts, but you don't necessarily hear them. Once in the air, however, you're fully aware of just how much the wind howls like a wounded wolf, and it serves as a reminder of just how much you are at its mercy. The sooner you accept that you're not 100 percent in control, the smoother your flight will be.

Anyway, Skipper and I jetted along for several minutes. We soon passed the pyramid, and something occurred to me.

I moved my wings into the "static flapping" position. This motion meant my wings were moving just enough to keep me aloft, but not enough to propel me forward - you could call it the airborne equivalent of treading water.

"Arceus, Barrett! I almost crashed into you!" I heard Skipper the derg exclaim as he passed me. "Don't stop suddenly like that!"

"I'm sorry" I muttered. "It's just…".

"You do realize that crashing in midair is very dangerous, right? We're a long way up - a fall would be catastrophic!"

"Again, I'm sorry. I was just wondering something."

"What's that?" Skipper inquired. By this time we were hovering just outside of the pyramid's clearing, barely within the boundary of the airspace we were permitted to use.

"The pyramids had a lot of symbols on them" I said blankly.

"So what?" Skipper responded. "Lots of things have symbols on them, Barrett. That's what symbols are for - they convey a message."

"Yeah, but what kind of message? What did the builders want us to think about?"

My roommate frowned. "Barrett, did you fly too high, too fast? Are you dizzy?"

"What? No!" I bellowed. "I'm just curious!"

"Well, curiosity can kill. It almost did kill you not long ago."

"I'm aware of that. But what were those symbols?"

Skipper pursed his lips, visibly shivering as he hovered there, high above the jungle canopy. "I don't know," he muttered. The message sent, however, was this: I know, but I'm not going to tell you.

I must've been staring pretty hard, though, because Skipper cleared his throat and finally tried to answer.

"Well, the truth is, you walked on sacred ground," my roommate began. "And there's a reason that ground is sacred."

"Sorry" I said, trying not to roll my eyes. Does he really have to make me feel guilty about that?

"The bush'mon, including the Venusaur that attacked you, are the guardians of the pyramids. They say the pyramids are the remnants of an ancient civilization that lived in the jungle long ago."

"Did lions sleep there?" I wondered aloud, trying for some levity by referencing a song they'd made us sing at the Institute sometimes.

Skipper didn't get the joke. "They say the pyramids are dotted with depictions of how they used to live."

"How they…used to live?"

"Yes. Supposedly their technology was quite advanced for their time, far more than anything on the surface. In fact…".

Skipper didn't say anything more, but he didn't need to. That question was like that monster from Greek mythology that would grow two new heads for each head you chopped off. My roommate's answer had only led to more unsolved mysteries in my mind - I wanted to know more about these pyramids and how they related to the ancient civilization.

But before I could have even asked that question, Skipper gestured in the opposite direction. "We should head home," he said. "Or else we're going to be late for school."

In the absence of any way to tell time, I couldn't argue with that, so I set my wings back into "forward mode" and followed Skipper back to the house.

Once we were there, Angela was waiting with breakfast and a broad smile. "You two look like you just had a great workout!" she remarked.

Skipper and I looked at each other, and I smiled. "Yeah, I guess we did," I said.

"In a perfect world you'd shower before breakfast, but it's best not to be late to school. So enjoy your meal, and then head off to class."

"Thank you, Mom," Skipper said.

As I ate my breakfast, a sumptuous stack of pineapple pancakes with Pecha berries on top, I basked in the glory of having wings. Like, really - it didn't get old. AndI doubted it ever would - if you don't think being a literal bird is amazing, that's because you haven't tried it yet.

And then it was time for school. During the walk to the academic building, I was all smiles, yet at the same time, convinced that the day couldn't get any better. I might not have been on Cloud Five anymore - maybe Cloud Seven, or even Cloud Eight. The level of "perfect happiness" described by the common phrase wasn't realistic, but I was damn happy.

That smile was wiped off my face almost as soon as I entered the building.

I was at my locker, arranging my books and picking out the one I'd need for History. (Come to think of it, a sickness bag should have also been on the supplies list, but that's neither here nor there.) As I picked the correct book, I heard an all-too-familiar jeer that nearly stopped my heart.

"There he is!"

Don't give him attention, for that is what he wants. Just stand there and look confident. Because you are confident - you are beautiful and powerful, and you need to act like it.

That's what I told myself in my internal pep talk, but it was far from easy to actually believe it. Especially when your bully is breathing down your neck.

"How is Albino Barrett doing? Taking after his roomie, Skipper the Derg?"

I couldn't help myself as I turned to face Minch, who did a crude imitation of someone bouncing on his heels and flapping his arms. In other words, someone who was stimming.

"Don't say anything about my friend" I snapped, backing up against my locker. If a fight occurred, I was cornered, and the other students knew it too. A few of them had even turned their attention to us - there would be a spectacle, no doubt about that.

"Awww, Albino Barrett grew his wings and now wants to stand up for his friend! How valiant!"

"For the record, even if I couldn't fly, I would still defend him!" I all but yelled at Minch. "And do you want to know why?"

"Why?" Minch responded, wiggling an eyebrow.

"Because he's my friend."

Minch smirked, the sort of look that can haunt someone's memories for quite some time. He then started singing a crudely written song about "Skipper the Derg" that, for what it's worth, sounded like the intro to a kids' TV show.

"Shut up!" I exclaimed. "That's annoying!"

I realized my mistake instantly. Not only had Minch received my attention, he'd received gratification. He now knew exactly how to push my buttons, and he did so abundantly over the next few minutes.

"You might be up in the clouds," the red Charizard taunted, "but it's only your head that's there. Your body is stuck on the ground."

"That's literally not true!"

"Who says it isn't?" Minch replied. "I've heard about your dodgeball abilities. They're non-existent! You can't catch or throw to save your life, and who knows? Maybe it would have saved your life one day!"

"Enough!"

That was not my shout, however. Rather, it was the yellow Charizard known as Keith - in other words, my History teacher. For once I was grateful for his presence.

"Both of you, off each other, now!" Keith exclaimed. "Or else I'm going to…".

I turned away from Minch, seething quietly as I considered how unfair it was that Keith equated my self-defense with the red dragon's aggression. To be fair, he couldn't have seen how the fracas had begun, but that didn't make it right.

Nonetheless, my only option was to enter the classroom, where Keith soon stood at the ready to deliver another gory lecture about war and disease. (In fact, those two things often went hand in hand; as Keith was all too happy to remind us, several times more Pokémon died from infection than from actual combat during many of their territorial conflicts.)

For the most part, not much happened until Gym class. Over the course of the second and third periods, I'd gradually placed that morning's encounter with Minch in the back of my mind, if I hadn't forgotten it entirely. It was no longer relevant - nothing mattered save for getting through the day. Gym class, however, tested that assumption like a fever of unknown origin tests a newborn's immune system.

It didn't start out that way, of course. It began like any other Gym class did in Wildebush. As soon as the forty of us had assembled in the gymnasium, Zen explained the rules of the game we'd be playing.

"This is a special variant of dodgeball," the Gym teacher announced. "You will be playing Hunger Games dodgeball…".

That's interesting. They don't reference things from my world that often.

"In this version of dodgeball, there are no teams. It is a purely individual competition. A pile of balls will be set up in the middle of the gym - we will call that the Cornucopia, for lack of a better word. When I blow the whistle, you will attempt to hit one another with those balls - if you get hit, you are out. The last player remaining wins."

The rules were simple enough to understand, even if they did not carry nearly the same fatal stakes as the actual Hunger Games. The result was anything but simple.

As soon as Zen blew the whistle, we were off. Knowing that I likely wouldn't have an easy time tossing a ball correctly so that it wasn't caught, I decided it was better to evade rather than attack.

Well, that didn't work out too well. Like a boxer too focused on his opponent's right jab, I was hit by a left hook that I hadn't seen coming. Before long I was out of the game, forced to sit down and watch the action unfold around me.

Now that I could no longer win the game, I didn't really care who did. As such, it seemed to me that time would crawl until the victor was crowned and we could start again, because unlike the tributes from the "actual" Hunger Games, we could return to "life" as many times as necessary to fill out the fourth period of the day.

However, when there were five players left, the unexpected happened.

One of the doors from the gymnasium led to the outside world, and said door was currently being pounded on like nobody's business. Whoever stood on the other side must have been pretty desperate to get in.

"Should we let them in?" one of the five remaining dragons (I thought the Charizard's name was Donnelly or something similar) wondered aloud.

"Donnelly", of course, wasted valuable time asking this question, because he was soon hit by one of the foam balls and had to sit down. There were only four players left now.

Zen blew his whistle. "Everybody, stop where you are!"

The remaining contestants stiffened up like boards, dropping the balls they clutched in their fists. Although they complied with the Gym teacher's demands without questioning them, I could tell that the dragons were wondering what, exactly, was so important as to merit a premature end of the game.

Zen grimaced. "You're probably wondering what's on the other side of that door," he said in a rather shaky tone. In two weeks, I'd never heard him sound so uncertain about anything.

Many of the students nodded, and I was among them. If opening the door was my choice, would curiosity have gotten the better of me? (I guess I'll never know.)

"Well, I am too," Zen acknowledged. "But I don't know if it would be wise to open the door, because…".

Just seconds after the Gym teacher began that statement, the door collapsed into the building, and monsters came flooding into the gymnasium.

I gulped. This hadn't been part of the program, had it?

For the first time in two weeks, Zen seemed at a loss for words. "I don't know what's going on!" he shouted, confirming this perception.

"Don't just stand there!" one of the other dragons, a magenta Charmander, exclaimed. "Fight them!"

Zen was still in, well, zen mode, which might have been okay under different circumstances. But it certainly wasn't okay now.

Anyway, the bronze monsters were soon present in a ring-like formation along the perimeter of the gymnasium. I couldn't see any of their eyes, which alarmed me to no end. (The staff at Sacred Heart would've had a heart attack at the fact that it was impossible to look any of these beasts in the eye - to them, you couldn't trust anyone who refused eye contact.)

We were surrounded.

"What do you all want?" Zen all but screamed. "This is gym class - it's not open for you all to barge in and surround us!"

None of the monsters responded, which should hardly have been shocking - after all, none of them had mouths or any other facial features.

The closest thing I could compare any of them to is this fighting video game I'd once watched Danny Sham play at the Institute. There had been a level where you had to battle the "Fighting Polygon Team", a set of thirty 3D polygon models of the game's playable characters. There were probably double that number here.

"I don't understand," a Charizard I recognized as Minch muttered. "How did nobody notice them entering the village?"

That question hung in the air like an oppressive heat haze, but it went unanswered. Meanwhile, my stomach felt sour at the sight of all these eyeless bronze creatures staring at us without blinking, knowing that at any moment, they might charge us. When that happened, there would be no escape.

The students all gathered in a circle in the center of the gymnasium, some of us posing in a manner suggesting we were ready to fight back. But the initial attack did not come for so long that I almost became convinced it wouldn't come at all. These bronze polygons could inflict terror by dangling the prospect of an attack over our heads indefinitely, because as long as we thought we might get charged, we couldn't leave the room.

Finally, a bronze Pikachu released an electric attack into the middle of the gym, which we were forced to scurry away from. The battle had begun.

I spat out a few fireballs; ever since the fight against the Araquanid, I'd gotten better at this. Flames left my throat more reliably, but they were still tough to control.

One of my flames made contact with the linoleum floor, turning that section into ash. I gulped at the thought of the damage we'd have to pay for, but that was hardly consequential when weighed against the potential loss of life.

The sounds of battle were all around me. A few of my peers used fire as well; the rest deployed their sharp claws to inflict wounds across the bronze monsters' chests.

Once each bronze creature was struck, it invariably collapsed into a pile of shiny dust. It didn't take long for my eyes to itch after the first few dust piles appeared.

I have to keep it together.

Soon I found myself doing battle with a bronze Scizor, jabbing its claws on either side of me. I envisioned myself playing Wii Sports Boxing, for that was a far less daunting challenge than taking down this beast.

"Watch your head, white boy!"

Am I the "white boy" they're talking about?

Well, if they were referring to dragons, that was likely the case - at a minimum, if the alternative was risking a concussion (or worse), why not take it seriously?

I leaped a couple feet to my left side. Less than a second later, a bronze boulder that must have weighed at least 50 pounds crashed to the floor, inches away from where I'd just been standing.

I couldn't bear to think about my close call yet, though, as I went back to fighting the Scizor. A trace amount of pain made itself known against my left shoulder.

At that moment, however, I was immune to said pain - if anything, it made me more aggressive. I furiously scraped my claws against the air, hoping fervently that I'd get the bronze Scizor to disintegrate.

Soon enough, we'd begun to turn the tide little by little. The bronze monsters outnumbered us, but the difference was that each student could take more than one claw swipe, more than one electric attack, or more than one rock. By contrast, any offensive contact with the enemies resulted in a splatter of dust.

Back to the Scizor, though. I was still struggling in my battle against said Pokémon when I felt myself begin to flag. Slowly but surely, I was getting tired, and if nothing happened, I was going to lose the battle and possibly my life.

Then, inexplicably, the Scizor burst into flames, then vanished in a puff of dust. I barely suppressed a sneeze.

"Thanks, M-achoo!" I announced, losing my battle against my dust allergy.

A red Charizard frowned at me. "Who's Ma-?"

"Minch!" I bellowed. "You saved me?"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Let you get mauled until you bleed to death, drop by drop?"

"Thanks" I mouthed, hardly willing to consider all the implications just yet. Especially since the bronze beasts, though quickly outnumbered, were still attacking us.

I emitted more fiery breath, careful not to accidentally light one of my classmates. (Then again, were they immune to fire attacks as Fire-types? I wasn't sure, and I didn't want to make one of them the guinea pig.)

Within a few minutes, the gym was quiet again. The last of the bronze beasts had been defeated, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

"Achoo!" I was seized by a sneezing fit at once - now that the adrenaline of the battle had faded, the allergens were hitting me like a freight train. I got down on my knees, rubbing my eyes and nose.

"Barrett, you okay?" Minch asked me.

"Why do you - achoo - care?" I all but cried as I knelt there, snot dripping down my face and my eyes feeling as though they'd been peppered with mosquito bites.

Admittedly, Minch didn't have a very good answer to that. But I'll give him this: He tried.

"Something about seeing all those monsters," he began, "really affected me. I didn't want to believe it, but I feel as though something's about to happen. Something big."

I didn't respond - I was too busy making those annoying snarking sounds with my throat. Seriously, it felt as though I'd just eaten a mouthful of pollen - to the extent that was even possible for me, of course.

Zen blew his whistle again, and all but a few of the dragons got into a circle around him. I was one of the few who remained in my position, trying not to sneeze my head off once more. In any case, the Gym teacher showed such a remarkable command of the situation that if you'd told me he'd orchestrated the bronze beast attack as part of the curriculum, I might have believed you.

"Okay, everyone, settle down!" Zen exclaimed. "Now that this issue has been resolved, at least to the extent it will be right now, I want to make a few things clear!"

Like what?, I wondered sarcastically. I bet you'll make things about as clear as my nose is right now.

"First of all," the Gym teacher announced, "that incursion was not planned in advance. Not remotely. It was a major security breach of the school, and we're going to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, do not panic."

Do not panic. How ridiculous is that after we just fought for our lives in the gym?

"Secondly, we're going to spend the rest of the period cleaning up this dust. You can all head to lunch early" Zen announced. "The cafeteria workers will surely understand the situation."

Once I was in the cafeteria, however, it took a while for me to settle down to the point where I felt comfortable grabbing my tray. My stomach churned, and my throat felt raw from the sheer amount of monster dust I'd been exposed to.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker beeped, which was the universal sign that an announcement needed to be made over the intercom. I braced myself for the worst.

"Ladies and gentle'mon, all students and faculty must head to the cafeteria. I repeat, all students must make their way to the cafeteria in order to await further instructions."

Well, that didn't mean much to me at first glance, since I was already in the prescribed room. However, I couldn't help but believe there was a reason the announcement had been given; something I knew, but didn't want to admit.

As the ache amplified in my left shoulder, I sat at the table and picked at the tray of pizza bagels I'd been given. The rest of the student body, consisting of hundreds of dragons, more than could possibly fit in this cafeteria, eventually came flooding into the cafeteria. Because there were only so many seats, most of the new arrivals ended up sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor.

I noticed that I was sitting next to Lucy, the Charizard I'd been introduced to on that fishing trip. She had to recognize me - I was the only white dragon in the cafeteria, and one of presumably very few in the entire village.

Principal Gloom soon lumbered into the cafeteria, pounding the floor with his paws in a show of authority. He grimly made his way to the front of the room, where he cleared his throat and made an announcement.

"Hello, students and faculty of Wildebush Central School. I'm sure many of you are wondering what happened - is there a threat in our midst? Are we under lockdown in the cafeteria?

"Well, the answer to those questions are not anymore and no, respectively. However, all of you will be sent home after I explain what transpired today."

A number of the students rocked back and forth, and I was among them. I'd always loved rocking chairs - they were rather soothing, and I certainly needed to be soothed right now.

Principal Gloom cleared his throat. "A number of bronze polygons entered the gym today in the middle of Hunger Games dodgeball. As a result, a battle ensued between the students and the bronze monsters, who resembled metallic versions of various Pokémon species. I'm pleased to report that there were no fatalities among students, though there were a few injuries that are being tended to at the nurse's office."

I sneezed again, a very loud one this time that made the whole room look at me. "Sorry" I mouthed, my voice thick with snot.

"So far as I am aware, this was an isolated incident. There is no further threat to school property, or to any of you. Class is canceled for the rest of the day, as we will inspect the gymnasium as a crime scene. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

As we left the cafeteria, I saw Skipper walk up to me and grimace at my face. "You look terrible," he said.

"Thanks" I muttered sarcastically.

"Seriously, you look like you lost a fight against a bunch of bronze dust monsters."

I snorted, which swiftly led to another sneeze. "You're tellin' me" I mumbled, the congestion no doubt showing in my voice.

"Let's get you to the nurse," Skipper remarked. "Maybe she'll have some allergy meds for you."

"Principal Gloom said school was closed for the day" I reminded my roommate.

"Oh yeah, right."

My whole body itched by now, and my left shoulder ached worse than ever. Despite the physical discomfort, though, two words remained in the front of my mind.

Crime scene. The school was being treated as a crime scene. On the news back at the Institute, I'd seen a few reports of such events, but I'd never expected one to hit so close to home.

At the same time: Could there be more to the story? Bronze monsters don't enter the gym just because!

Sooner or later, I would know the truth. But I had no idea whether I hoped for or feared the time when it came.

I know I don't normally use author's notes at the bottom of the chapter, but I just wanted to say that I HATE dust in real life. I am badly allergic to it, just like Barrett, and have been since I was a little kid. Unfortunately for Barrett, there's a lot more where that came from...

See you all next time.