Chapter 8

The Mountain

October 22nd, 1993

Few trainers spent much time in the hills to the northwest of the National Park. The scenery was gray and uninspiring, and the terrain was utterly pathless. Most of its human visitors were ten-to-eleven-year-olds who made it about a mile off the trail before realizing why nobody ever talked about this "shortcut" to Routes 38 and 39.

A few, however, came on research assignments. The sheer distance from any significant development made it the ideal place to observe wild Pokémon behavior free of human influence at the macro level. Fewer still visitors came because they never saw a landscape they didn't like. Two, one, or none a year came for both reasons at once. This year's was Wendy.

Wendy scrambled to the top of the tallest boulder on a sharp rise and surveyed her surroundings. To the north, the land fell away to bramble-laden flats, past which was a haze which she knew concealed an extensive bog. West and east were more of the jagged hills she had spent all morning doing her best to navigate.

She took a deep breath, savoring the autumn air. This was her favorite weather for a challenging hike: overcast and just cooler than would be comfortable at rest. She climbed down again and took a course of west-north-west on the hunch that she would find a suitable cliff this way.

After much up and down, and a little back-tracking upon finding a way choked with thorny bushes, Wendy came to the brink of a promising candidate. Out of caution, she went on all fours and crawled to see over the edge. And there it was: On an outcropping some forty feet down was what could only be a Fearow's nest. She backed up again, took out her map, and circled the spot it in red.

She took another look down the cliff-face, this time with her binoculars to ascertain the number of eggs. It took a few seconds to get the nest in focus, but even when she did, she found that too many were obscured by sticks, leaves, and other eggs to get an accurate count. She would have to get closer.

Looking without the binoculars, she considered the cliff. It was far too sheer above the nest to consider climbing down, and climbing up from the bottom seemed doubtful, too. Although, since there was a decent foothold by the nest itself, she did have one option available to her.

She backed away, stood up, and got her head in the right space. Although she had experience with what she was about to attempt, it remained stupidly reckless by any reasonable standard. She let Sharpy out of her ball.

"Time to play elevator, F-Sharp."

Sharpy sang a loud F-sharp as she always did when she heard her proper name. Wendy now only used it to signal that the situation called for seriousness, and she guessed that Sharpy was on the same page about this. It could simply be that Sharpy was a reliable sort regardless of circumstance.

Wendy put on a pair of sterile gloves for handling the eggs. Then she held out her arms for a big hug. Sharpy jumped into the embrace with gusto, knocking Wendy back an inch. A Clefable was no trouble to hold up when she didn't want to be any trouble, of course. Gravity's hold on the Clef-line was—as academics put it—idiosyncratic. Wendy took advantage of this by stepping off the cliff.

For several seconds, they fell at a rate which would have made more sense on the moon. Before their speed could approach danger, Wendy said, "Slow." Sharpy's pointy "wings" shone bright pink as the influence of gravity diminished even further. They continued to fall, but with no discernable acceleration.

Looking down made Wendy's heart beat faster, but having her big, cuddly friend in her arms kept her from panicking. She shifted her weight just enough to steer them toward the foothold. "Ready…"

She tapped down, leaned into the cliff face, and gave Sharpy a toss up and away from her. Absent the extra weight, Sharpy had no trouble hanging out in space while Wendy worked.

With every ounce of care she could manage—in interest both of her own safety and that of the baby Spearow in the eggs—she reached into the nest, and disturbed the contents exactly enough to let her count the residents. Eight eggs. From above, she would have guessed seven. This little stunt had been worth it, she decided.

Leaning safely back, Wendy extended her arms again, and Sharpy fell into them. "One… two… three!"

She jumped off. A pleasant ride down to the bottom of the cliff followed. After setting a delighted F-Sharp on her feet, Wendy took one more look up at the edge of the nest sticking out from its perch.

Even as she did so, a shrill squawk echoed about as the mama Fearow flew overhead and settled down on her eggs. That would have been a day-ruiner at minimum a minute ago.

Wendy hooted and wiped her brow. "Lucky us, Sharpy!"

Sharpy sang in agreement.

Late that afternoon, their good luck continued as the sky began to clear up. As much as Wendy appreciated cloud cover for a tough day of walking, she thought it was a terrible waste this far away from light pollution after dark. She found a high, bare place to camp for their last night after two weeks of surveying, then waited for the show to begin.

At seven o'clock, Wendy saw the first shooting star of the evening. By eight, she had spotted five. Every constellation she recognized was perfectly clear: the Dragonair, the Teddiursa, the Swanna… She wished she had a star atlas with her to learn some more. The moon was still up, so the stars weren't as bright as they might have been, but Wendy never begrudged its presence, certainly not when Sharpy was out.

Sharpy sat enraptured as always by the only celestial body she ever paid any mind to. A few years ago, Wendy had even noticed that the only time Sharpy showed particular interest in the daytime sky was during a new moon, when it trailed close and unseen behind the sun. The last partial solar eclipse had made her worried Sharpy might stare at it and damage her eyes, but she reasoned that if this were a danger, no wild Clefairy would make it to Clefable without going blind.

Sharpy, realizing that Wendy was staring at her, stared back with the slightest tilt in her seemingly permanent smile, which suggested a question.

"Nothing, girl," said Wendy, turning to admire the moon herself. A waxing half-moon was a good compromise: plenty of moon for Sharpy, plenty of stars for Wendy.

It was impossible to train a Clef-line Pokémon without coming to give some credence to the more outlandish folk-tales about them. Wendy may have been perfectly aware that the moon had no atmosphere, but deep in her heart, she believed the Clefairy had indeed first come down from there. Maybe millions of years ago, maybe a thousand; she had no idea. She knew this at least for sure: They had brought their own gravity with them.

With a chuckle, she recalled a conversation between her and Luke on the subject. He had never quite contradicted her, rather stuck to asking semi-pointed questions and proposing alternate explanations for oddities.

Such as, "How would they get down here to begin with?"

Or, "There are other Pokémon that float in midair even though it looks like they shouldn't."

And her favorite, "I'm not saying the ones still on the moon don't make rice cakes—I'm just asking why the ones down here don't."

Eventually, she had asked him point blank, "Do you think they're from the moon or not?"

At which he hesitated, then finally said, "…No."

She'd been disappointed, of course, but then she asked, "But don't you wish they did?"

At which he hesitated even longer, then finally, to her satisfaction, muttered, "…Yeah."

Wendy sighed and smiled. It was a good memory, like so many.

There had been no letter waiting for her in Olivine when she came back from Cianwood. She couldn't pretend it wasn't a let-down, but she wouldn't let it get to her like the wait for the last one. Luke had written back when it seemed like he wouldn't, so she owed him a little trust. If he needed time, he would have it.

Until then, she could remember. It was too dark to admire it now, but safe in a small folder in her pack was her favorite picture in the world. It wasn't the landscape from Luke's last letter, though it was also one of his. It had survived the post-disaster temptation to destroy anything that might remind her of Luke and Aaron, and had resided at home until her recent visit.

No matter where it was, though, it always came to mind when Sharpy looked at the moon that way.

October 5th, 1990

"It's only just sinking in for me," said Wendy. "We're in Kanto. We walked to Kanto."

Wendy and Luke sat on a wide boulder, replacing the bandages on their feet. They had taken on a frightful number of persistent blisters over the course of walking to Kanto. More specifically, they had hiked without any full days of rest for more than six solid weeks to get from Olivine City to the head of the trail under Mt. Moon, which dominated the sky behind them.

"How are your legs today?" Wendy asked Luke.

Luke considered for a second, stretched them out, then winced. "Well, the good news is I can feel them. …The bad news is, I can feel them."

Wendy stretched as well, and the pinch made her regret it at once. "Yeah. I think I get you."

They had arrived a week ago, and only today had Wendy's calves finally improved from "dying" to merely "aching." For the first three days, none of them had moved much farther than from one side of their campsite to the other. It was the only time in her entire journey that Wendy had to wonder if they could actually have kept going for even one more day.

Bandages replaced, Wendy put her socks and shoes back on as well, then stood up with a grimace. She took a few steps to feel it out. "…I think can do tonight."

Luke rubbed his feet. "Well, it's too bad we can't just wait around here another month. I think I'd be good to go by then."

Just then, Aaron plodded back from watering the bushes. "Course not," he said. "We got lost time to make up for."

It had taken some convincing for Aaron to agree to undertake this long adventure—there were no Johto Gyms to be found in Kanto, after all. The key argument in the excursion's favor was that it might bring Wendy's team to the next level, which could be critical for the remaining two Badges, especially the Rising Badge in Blackthorn.

There was simply no better bet for evolving a Clefairy than bringing it to the Mountain when the moon was full.

What Wendy hadn't exactly admitted to Aaron, however, was that her team's strength wasn't the real reason she wanted to come here. More than anything, she felt it was Sharpy's time on Sharpy's own terms. For one thing, her grasp of musical notes was pushing up against the limits of her singing voice. She was due to become a Clefable, plain and simple. As for Wendy herself, she had long dreamed of what she might see tonight.

But it didn't feel fair to Aaron to propose such an extensive detour for the sole benefit of her and her starter. Better to keep the focus on how this was a good step towards their shared goal: all eight Badges for all three of them.

"You know," said Wendy to Aaron, "You can still change your mind and come with us tonight. Not something you're likely to see again."

"I'll live," said Aaron. "Which is important, cause someone needs to deliver the bad news if the hike kills you."

"No chance!" Wendy swung her right leg to loosen it, and almost didn't regret it. "We're fit as fiddles over here! Right, Luke?"

Luke had his shoes back on now. He stood, ground his teeth, and said, "If I'm not, just take my Pokémon with you on your way down."

It took Wendy a second to tell he must be joking, but then she laughed.

Luke had surprised her with how persistent and persuasive he had been in advocating for the trip. He, like her, had kept the discussion with Aaron strictly strategic, even though he knew exactly what coming here meant to her. He and she had talked all about Mt. Moon and Clefairy ever since her twelfth birthday. Perhaps he didn't feel it was his place to bring that into the discussion with Aaron if she didn't first. Sometimes it amazed her how he seemed to both read and write between the lines like that. She vowed never to forget his part in their being here.

The sun was dipping close to the horizon, which stood high with the mountains and hills rolling away west. Just a few more hours to rest up.

"Sharpy, use Flash."

A pinkish light filled the mouth of the tunnel. All over the walls, thin veins of mineral glittered like diamond. Wendy turned around to face Luke and the vanishing daylight behind him. "Last easy place to turn around. All good?"

Luke took a deep breath. "Think so."

Wendy smiled and nodded. Then she looked to Sharpy again, who was already bouncing on her tiptoes and staring at her in anticipation.

"Lead the way, girl."

With a few delighted notes, Sharpy bounded down the path. Wendy followed after her with long strides, muscles burning. "Slower, please."

Sharpy complied. She didn't restrain herself per se, rather took more vertical hops as she went forward. Now that Wendy felt she could keep pace, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Luke could, too. He was right behind her—so far, so good. They had a little under six hours to beat the moon up its mountain.

It was a new experience for Wendy to let a Pokémon navigate. There was a temptation to ignore which turns they took, to let herself get lost in the light show on the walls, but she forced herself to pay attention. If something were to happen, it may be on her and Luke to find the way back down.

Soon, Sharpy took them out of a tunnel to the first above-ground stretch of their route. In the absence of walls for Flash to illuminate, it was harder to see. As they wound their way up, Wendy gazed at the dark mass of the mountain above and before them, visible only by the stars it blocked. She knew somewhere behind it was the full moon, moving like a backwards hour-hand toward midnight.

When they came to another tunnel-mouth, Wendy decided it was time for a break. That was one decision she couldn't leave to a Clefairy tonight. "Hold up, Sharpy."

She and Luke leaned against the wall and groaned at the protest their legs were putting up. They both drank some water while Sharpy danced around and sang with a hint of impatience.

"Kinda weird that no Zubat have given us any trouble yet," said Wendy.

Luke didn't respond at first. There was something odd in his expression, but Wendy wasn't sure what.

"They're here," he finally said, "but yeah, they've been leaving us alone. Maybe they don't like messing with Clefairy on a full moon."

It was a very Luke answer, keen as ever, but the look on his face was still different. Wendy didn't think it was fatigue, since he'd been keeping pace without issue. Something was bothering him. Really bothering him.

Nerves? This wasn't quite how she pictured Luke when he was nervous, but nothing else fit.

Yes, she decided, that was probably it. After all, he only had one chance to take the pictures they wanted. And for as little as Wendy understood photography, she remembered that "nighttime equals bad." Even though there would be more than plain moonlight for him to work with, by all accounts, they didn't know how much.

"Hey," she said, "Don't worry. You did your homework. I think they're gonna turn out great."

Luke seemed confused for a moment. He looked her in the eye, another inscrutable expression on his face, but it passed. "I know. Thanks."

Wendy was relieved. She'd worried she might have misread him for a second, there.

It was back to the tunnels. After what felt like another mile, the way suddenly widened into a vast cavern whose ceiling was too tall for Sharpy's light to reach. Their footsteps echoed from all sides, as did Sharpy's voice when she sang a little tune. She led them to the middle of the space, or at least to a point where none of the unseen walls felt closer than the other.

Then Sharpy whistled a loud, sustained note. The sound returned as a thousand different tones from every direction, none arriving at exactly the same time or pitch. It was nothing short of bewildering to Wendy, but Sharpy stood attentive, ears up. When the concert of echoes died down, she picked a direction and bounded off.

When they reached the wall, Sharpy slowed to a careful walk. For a minute, Wendy wondered whether she'd lost her way. If it turned out to have been too long since Wendy's dad caught her here for her to remember where to go, it would be a disappointing result to say the least after coming all this way.

She turned to Luke. He was laser-focused on Sharpy, not a speck of doubt in his eyes. It would hardly do to be the first to give up on her own Pokémon, so Wendy resolved to let her see this through.

Sharpy rewarded her trust immediately. Without warning, she leapt a dozen feet in the air and landed on what Wendy had taken to be a flat part of the wall, but was in fact a lip jutting out from it. Sharpy looked down at them in expectation.

The wall wasn't sheer, but it was no gentle slope, either. It seemed unfair that the moon didn't have to deal with this kind of obstacle on its way up. Wendy took a deep breath and grabbed the first handholds she saw.

"Wait," said Luke. Wendy waited. "You can get a better path a few feet to your right. See those holds halfway up?"

She hadn't, but now she did. "Nice, thanks!" She let go, walked a few paces, and took the better starting spot. Then, as often happened, the words came into her head which better expressed what she'd meant to say to begin with. Something like, Bless your sharp eyes, Luke. I love them. It felt late to elaborate now, so she started to climb.

Her arms hated her for it. Come on, she thought at them, pull your weight! It's been all on the legs for weeks! It was fire with every pull of the arm and every push of the knee, but she reached the top.

From the lip where Sharpy stood and Wendy now slumped over, the rock shelf fell away to meet the actual wall. And there, utterly hidden from the cavern floor, was a small tunnel. She let Luke know at once. "I'm going to crawl through first," she added. "Sharpy, wait until Luke climbs up, please."

Wendy thanked her lucky stars that though it was a tight squeeze, she didn't get stuck. She soon emerged in another tunnel that was friendlier to humans in size. Not long after, Luke came through with Sharpy all but pushing him by his heels.

By Wendy's best guess, hours of hiking still remained, but her confidence was at a new high. "If this doesn't mean we're on a real Clefairy-trail, I don't know what does," she said.

Luke nodded between gasps for air.

A pale blue light loomed from a bend in the tunnel. Sharpy extinguished her Flash and went on ahead and out of sight. Wendy knew better than to follow her close behind from here. She and Luke hugged the wall and crept forward. Slowly poking her head around the corner, Wendy saw the last exit, and beyond it, the very thing they had walked over three hundred miles to see.

Moon Stone. The Moon Stone. Not a mere sparkling clump to find on the ground and stick in one's bag, but a veritable tower of glowing rock. Wendy approached the Stone's clearing with more care to be silent than she'd ever taken in her life. The space was enclosed by massive, pale, sheer walls opening to the sky.

At present, that window of sky held only stars: They had beaten the moon. But looking around, if someone had told Wendy this was the moon, she might have believed it.

Sharpy stood a dozen yards out from the tunnel as if suddenly hesitant to join the throng of Cleffa, Clefairy, and Clefable already gathered at the base of the Moon Stone, singing a hundred different tunes to each other. She must have been the last one to arrive—Wendy could imagine the others having waited here all day without care for food or water.

When a minute passed without any movement from Sharpy, Wendy found herself mouthing, "Go on," at a volume she couldn't hear herself but knew must have been louder than silent. Though she gave no other sign of hearing, her dear F-Sharp stepped, then walked, then ran toward the crowd.

Luke touched her shoulder. He motioned her to a few rocks for cover, never taking his eyes off Sharpy even as they snuck over and lay on their stomachs. As he took the camera and small tripod out of his bag, never looking at either, Sharpy jumped into the arms of a Clefable in the center. They nuzzled noses.

Wendy wondered who this one Clefable was to Sharpy. The way the other fairies formed themselves around her made Wendy want to call her the Fairy Queen. She supposed it could be male, but there was a matriarchal air about her that made Wendy think not. The Queen, then. Or if not a queen, was this a reunion with Sharpy's big sister? Mother? Grandmother? She didn't suppose she would ever know.

Wendy risked a glance at the sky. One side was definitely brighter than the other, but the moon wasn't here yet. It couldn't have been further than an hour away, though. Looking back down, Sharpy was singing something to the Fairy Queen in tremendous excitement.

Luke's camera was mounted and ready. Wendy put her head next to his ear and barely mouthed the words, "Is there enough light?"

She adjusted to give him her own ear. "Not yet," he said. "We'll see when it starts." There was an electricity to having to whisper this way, and she was pretty sure she liked it.

They continued to observe the fairies in silence. Sharpy was easy to keep track of, clinging as she did to the shoulders of the Fairy Queen. Minutes passed. The brighter side of the sky grew brighter still. The awaited time was so close.

Wendy started at an unexpected whisper, Luke's mouth suddenly millimeters from her ear again.

"Are— sorry."

Wendy shook her head and gestured for him to continue.

"Are…" He hesitated again. "…Are you worried she won't come back?"

It hadn't crossed her mind before. She knew right away she couldn't rule out the possibility, but it was strange. For whatever reason, she was untroubled. She couldn't believe how untroubled she was. Even as she imagined the hollow pain in her gut at losing her first and favorite Pokémon, it didn't overwhelm her—it didn't feel wrong. She touched her fingers to her lower lip as she pondered how to put it.

When she was more or less ready, she leaned over to Luke's ear. "I think she'll come right back, but even if she doesn't, I'm not worried. I just don't feel like that'd be it." She strained for words, determined as never before to find them. "It's like… even if it's years from now, I think I'll see her again. I don't know how to explain it."

She pulled away. Luke stared at the ground with a granite face and furrowed eyebrows. He drew a deep breath and let it out again. She saw him start to move his head to hers, but both of them had their attention ripped away from the other.

The Moon Stone was getting brighter.

High above, the moon peaked over the edge. The fairies sang and jumped for joy, spreading all about the Stone. Some reached the top of their jumps and stayed there, while others danced with their home-brought gravity. Only the wingless Cleffa stayed bound to the Earth. They raised their unpracticed singing voices to compensate.

Two long minutes passed, then five long seconds, and the full moon was overhead. The Moon Stone, as if it had been waiting for every last drop of moonlight, erupted. Its every facet was like a dazzling gem. Every wall, every rock, even Wendy's own hands were engulfed in the otherworldly blue cast emanating from the thing.

Only the fairies shone in their own color. A halo of pink surrounded each, not rivaling but complementing the light of the Stone.

After years of dreaming it, Wendy's imagination pled "no contest" to the reality.

The fairy-songs crescendoed. Wendy barely heard the rapid, alternating clicks from Luke's camera over the mounting melodies. She saw Sharpy hanging in the air by the Fairy Queen like a little pink angel as others leapt and danced. She imagined she could pick out her voice among the multitude.

With no further need to be so near-silent, Luke whispered, "This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"Me too," said Wendy, soon realizing she also wanted to say There's nobody I'd rather see it with than you.

Before she could, Sharpy, one other Clefairy, and three Cleffa all glowed white.

Luke's camera clicked.

October 25th, 1993

Looking at the picture always brought Wendy away from where she was and back to fairyland. Even now, sitting on a small plastic chair with her back to a running clothes dryer, she relived everything about the hour she'd spent between Earth and the moon. It was all there: the light, the colors, the shadows, and an outline of Sharpy as she had existed for only a moment before she became as she was now.

She put the picture back in its folder. The danger of travelling with it was how often she wanted to look at it. It would be much safer to leave it at home, and safer still under glass.

There was little else to do in the laundromat, though, besides people-watch and listen to the radio, and the classic-rock station didn't do much for her. There was another trainer in the far corner, but the other customers were just normal folks whose apartments probably didn't have washers. Some read books, some gossiped about their neighbors, and some pretended to stare into space when others noticed they were also people-watching.

Wendy spoke to none of them. She didn't usually feel awkward around regular locals, but when it came to rooms where people sat in rough proximity for over an hour, she couldn't help worrying about how she smelled.

If you had asked her two years ago, she would have said trainers were the only ones who smelled like natural humans, while everyone else was obsessed with smelling like soap. Her first day of JCS office work—of noticing everyone's preference to stand a little farther away from her—had made her question whether this opinion was one of genuine principle and not mere cover for practicality. Suffice to say, she never went into the JCS headquarters without clean clothes and without having showered, anymore.

The drier buzzed, much to her relief. After a cursory check that everything was dry and not just hot, she rolled it all up to fit in her pack and headed out. Back on the busy streets of Goldenrod, there was no particular shame in being typically dirty for a trainer. She felt easier walking to the Pokémon Center, especially with clean clothes to change into after using the showers.

When she got there, however, she put bathing on hold. Nothing was going to take precedence over reading the letter she found waiting for her at the front desk. She took a seat.

October 17th, 1993

Dear Wendy,

I'm really glad you liked the picture so much. I'll try to get you another one next time. And that's marvelous news about Nadine. You can tell her I say "hi" too, when you talk to her next. I do believe it regarding the timing, by the way. You may remember my stance on coincidences—that they happen all the time, and that you're bound to catch some if you wait long enough. (Helps in photography.)

Regarding pressure, I can't say I would have guessed that was what was bothering Nadine because, like you said, it was really early and she was definitely good at battling. Still, I can't pretend I don't see where she's coming from. There's really no other way to put it: Aaron was miles ahead of me at all things training and battling. I didn't have a problem with that per se (or with you being miles ahead of me either, of course), but the constant pushing to catch up definitely wore me down. If Aaron and I had been on the same page about how much and how hard my team and I could train, especially when I didn't want to give up on photography to do it, maybe things would have turned out differently. I don't want to make excuses—I know I shouldn't have let it get where it ended up—but I think that was the biggest reason the tension between us boiled up like it did.

Given what happened between me and Aaron, and given how Nadine's doing now, I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds in saying there might have been some blessing in disguise with Nadine leaving early. "It could have been worse" is a bad cliché, but I really regret how much worse it got in my case after I let things go unaddressed for that long. So, like I've said before, maybe you could have done something different with Nadine, but she's happy now, and there's something to be said for not looking a gift Rapidash in the mouth. I'm beyond glad for you that it turned out to have a happy ending.

Some good news on my end: It's looking like Zoe's turning the corner on a bout of dream-sickness faster than she used to. Which I guess you know is the same as saying, "My dreams have been bad lately, but they seem to be normalizing," so I won't pretend there's any mystery there. The makeshift medicine's coming in handy, and I think my stock should last until she's fully in the clear.

It's hitting me that I don't think I ever thanked you enough for how much you did for Zoe the first time she got sick, and for me too. I really should have remembered to say it last letter (when you said the same to me for doing less), but: Thank you so much.

Even more than learning how to make the medicine, I think what helped the most is how you got me to realize there are things I can do to get more good dreams in the mix. I worry I'm being too blunt, but having your letters here and re-reading parts of them has helped, I think.

Well, since I've been blunt enough already, I might as well include that yesterday, Zoe actually shared a good dream back to me for the first time in a while, and you were in it. I can't say it was particularly exciting—we basically just cooked dinner, and talked like we were both having strokes (you know how dreams are). Something about how you can't sauté a brick if you're missing a sock (the details escape me). Whatever it was we were trying to talk about, you thought it was hilarious, and hearing you laugh about it put it all squarely in good-dream territory.

I'll cut myself off here before I say something that makes me crumple this up and start over. I'm heading to the National Park for a few weeks, and then I'll probably be coming back to Goldenrod to make some prints.

Yours truly,
Luke

Wendy was red to the ears. She found herself avoiding eye contact as she walked to the girls' showers. Normally, she never read much into what other people told her about their dreams, even when she featured in them. But to have Luke up and say he thought about her when he wanted good dreams? That was different. That was weird and different. The real kicker was how as soon as she tried to put herself in his shoes to picture what this dream looked like, she had to contend with the fact that he hadn't seen her since they were twelve.

This raised questions. One was easy: Were we both twelve in the dream? Another was anything but easy: Did he age me up? The truly difficult ones followed from there. Do I want him to have aged me up? Is he aging me up when he thinks about me while awake? Do I want him to do that? How do I compare to whomever he's picturing?

She froze with her hand on a changing-stall door handle when she confronted the next question: Were they bigger or smaller?

Somehow, she got even redder. She ducked inside the stall with every intention to stare at the wall and get this sorted out before she even considered getting undressed.

Which would be better? Is it insulting either way? If he sees me, is he going to be disappointed? What if he's the opposite of disappointed?

She clapped a hand to her forehead. Stop. Forget it. Forget about this one.

The other questions were little easier, though. Have I been aging him up? Not really, she guessed. She was pretty sure she'd been mentally reverting herself to twelve to match, more or less. But suddenly, she didn't feel she could continue doing that. Not if he was thinking about a girl their age.

How tall is he now? Wait, his voice must have changed. What does he sound like now? How deep is his new voice? She imagined Luke's words pitched down and coming from the first Luke-ish, age-appropriate face she could picture.

This was a massive mistake. It was one thing to have a nebulously twelve Luke on her mind with the myriad past emotions that conjured up. It was an entirely different, infinitely more distracting thing to have an attractive boy she hadn't met but had also known for years speaking bassy, heartfelt words straight into her head.

She opted for a cold shower.

Hours later, lying in her sleeping bag and staring at the top bunk of a Pokémon Center bed, Wendy felt she had more perspective on the situation. It came down to what she'd spent much of 1991—the year after it all went wrong—convincing herself otherwise: Twelve-year-old Wendy had liked twelve-year-old Luke.

It wasn't much. Even "crush" felt like a strong word. But it was there, and the distance hadn't so much changed it as buried it.

And now, she was three years into teenage-dom, and well acquainted with serious attraction. Those wires in her brain had gotten crossed with the old Luke-wires and short-circuited. Not weird. Perfectly understandable. She could live with it. And if the imaginary '93 Luke got too specific, too present in her head, she would be deliberate about vague-ing him down to someone less exciting.

With that out of the way, there were more important things from today's letter to consider.

The whole dream thing had driven the real matter from her mind, which was that she finally had her answer. She now knew what had made Luke lose it like he did—or most of it, at least. It troubled her how this could have hidden in plain sight for so long. Was she simply that bad at reading what people were feeling? Even more troubling was how similar his explanation was to Nadine's. It didn't sound like a coincidence, and if it wasn't, what did that say about her and Aaron?

Maybe all it said was that their style of training and the pace they set were a bad fit for Nadine and Luke, but was that enough to explain the kind of catastrophe it ended up as in Luke's case? Was she still missing something?

If there was one cause for hope, it was how Luke was opening up in earnest now. Thus, Wendy decided it was time. She needed to push for a meeting. Maybe just the two of them at first, but certainly with Aaron too as soon as possible. All four of them, even, if she could make it happen. Now that she knew where to start—about pressure and expectations—she was sure they could clear the air.

Of course, she needed to get in touch with Aaron first.

One step at a time, she told herself, and no rushing. If it took long enough, she could pull the nuclear option and appeal to Mrs. Barlow for help in contacting her elusive son. If it got to New Year's with no reply, she would think about it. First came writing back to Luke.

She closed her eyes. The temptation to start drafting stymied her efforts to fall asleep, though. And there was also the hypothetical face, the maybe-Luke to shoo away out of respect for the genuine article.

But then, should she? He got to think about her at night, after all. Fair was fair. If he didn't like competing with her best guess, they would just have to meet in person.

She smiled. There was something nice, she decided, about knowing she was a certain somebody's "dream girl," so to speak.