The following Thursday, Mom is released from the hospital. As her vehicle is now a wreck in a junkyard, she arranges for it to be sold off for parts and scrap. She gets 800 Pokedollars for it that she has me take to the bank and deposit into her account. A meager amount compared to how valuable her car had been to us.

I manage a pathetic response to Hector, and I feel a little sick telling him that I can't be traveling with him this year. Probably any year. He asks if I want to talk about it. I tell him that I don't. We don't exchange any more messages, and I try not to avoid him in school. Not sharing classes with my friend makes it easier to avoid him.

The November rain from a few days prior turns to biting snow. My days after school are spent at Clancy's or looking after my Mom. She can't cook for herself, or really move on her own without a lot of difficulty. A lot of her days are spent on the couch, and I can't blame her. It'll be months before her body fully heals and even then, there's still going to be difficulties.

Knowing that my mother's paychecks will be drying up in just a few weeks, I begin looking for more work outside of the diner. A convenience store in my neighborhood that I pass frequently has a Help Wanted sign in their window at all times, but the manager sporting a thick mustache turns me away. I'm not old enough and I can't work overnight. The Chatot on his shoulder had been glaring at me the whole time and whispering insults that I didn't dare repeat. I apply at a coffee shop, two hardware stores, and a bakery. I try my luck at another diner but the owner, a portly and sweaty man in his forties, barks at me to get out of his restaurant with claims that he doesn't hire drug addicts.

I begin to get a little desperate. I start hunting through dumpsters and garbage cans for aluminum and glass scrap. A local recycling plant nearby will give me 60 Pokedollars for each pound of scrap I bring in. Once, a mangy looking Poochyena with a snaggle tooth and a chunk missing from his ear growls at me before I leave his territory, deciding that getting bitten isn't worth the meager amount I'd get from there. I begin pocketing aluminum cans at school when I think no one's looking. I stay behind when the cafeteria is cleared out and filch what I can from the trash. At one point, a teacher catches me and cusses me out for doing such a thing. I stand there and take it, because what was I going to say? Over the course of a week, I manage to fill a large metal trash can behind our apartment with several pounds of scrap before I drag it three blocks away to the plant. There are eyes on me the whole time and I get stares from men and women alike. I collect my cash reward from the man working at the recycling plant. He comments that I'm not the usual sort that comes in here, but I don't respond. A few days later I go to fill the trash can with scrap, and the thing is a broken, dented mess. There isn't a single piece left behind. I take the hint and give up on this venture.

During a walk home one night, I witness a man tossing something overhead into a dumpster in an alley. I wait a few minutes for him to leave before flipping the lid and finding an old beat up wheelchair. I roll the thing back home before cleaning and disinfecting it as best I can. One of the wheels is a little dented and it doesn't look to be the most comfortable thing in the world, but it means my Mom can move around our apartment on her own now.

As December looms overhead, I finally manage to pull another part time job in. Mikael's, a small grocery store nearly as far away as the hospital, asks me to come in and stock shelves three days out of the week. One of my work days is Sunday afternoon, so I leave for there right after I finish up at Clancy's. I barely have time to get home and change into the burgundy work shirt they provide but I manage it all the same. I find I'm exhausted most days but it's easier when I'm getting my work done in school. I abandon doing huge projects assigned for any of my classes. I simply don't have the time or energy for it, not when I can manage passing grades from homework and tests alone. I take naps in the classes that allow it, and pad my schedule with study halls to allow for more of the same.

A week into my new job at Mikael's and the store is decked out for the winter holidays. There's red and green covering nearly everything in the store. Jingles and songs that I would've enjoyed as a kid become mind-numbing as I fill shelves with tin cans and boxes of overly sugary cereal. I wonder what Mom and I will do for the winter holidays, but I remember that she can't work or cook, and I'll probably have to do both. We don't starve though. I get a free meal at Clancy's every shift that I work and I take home anything that they don't want. Free bread, pastries and even soup or other dishes from the steam tables means something hot that I don't have to cook. Mom doesn't say anything about me working as much as I do, even though I know she wants to. I can tell it pains her to rely on me, but we don't have much of a choice. We don't talk about it. I just do what I can to make my Mom comfortable and happy.

Winter torments our tiny, drafty apartment. The cold is a relentless force, seeping in through holes and cracks that I don't have the ability to fix, but I don't dare bring the heat up. I layer up and make sure Mom and I have plenty of blankets. It's miserable but I knew living outside in this would be a thousand times worse. I remember that winter lasting so long, but maybe it's just my perception of a time I didn't like to think about.

I spent the next two days resting and trying to relax as best I could. This sort of thing hadn't happened to me before. I never called in sick, and I didn't qualify for vacation time at any of my jobs. The anxiety of bills going unpaid and a paycheck that had just been flushed away had me on edge the entire weekend. By Sunday morning, I had downloaded a slew of shitty games to my phone to keep myself from staring at the time. The following days I had expected to be rough, but each of my bosses saw the rough state I was in and forced me to take lighter duties. I learned how to run the register at the grocery store, and instead of picking parts I scanned boxes and labels at the warehouse.

On the following Saturday morning, I layered up and put on the warmest clothes that I had before catching a bus to another part of Jubilife. I stood in front of the Rehome Project, a series of large blue buildings connected to a large fenced enclosure. It looked to be an area for the Pokemon to play and run around in, but the cold was keeping them inside, the ground coated with white frost. In the corner was a large pond that looked to have been drained. Standing outside with the pamphlet, that same cold was tearing into me after the five minutes I'd been outside. Even in two layers of socks my toes were starting to feel numb. I folded the paper up and shoved it into the pockets of my coat before I went inside.

The waiting room was small but there were at least a dozen comfortable looking chairs to sit in. Behind a desk with glass playing was a receptionist in their twenties if I had to guess. She had soft eyes and auburn hair that framed her cheeks that held just a touch of pink. Behind her was an Audino who perked up as I walked inside, its bright blue eyes finding me in an instant before it gave me a little wave. I returned the gesture, which made the pink Pokemon smile as I approached the desk.

"Hi there, can I help you with something?" the receptionist asked politely. She had a name tag pinned to her shirt that read "Elaine".

"Uh, yeah. I uh…," I pulled the pamphlet from my pocket and unfurled it before showing it to her. "I saw that you're in need of volunteers here. I was just wondering if maybe I could help out?"

"I see," Elaine replied, looking at the flier in my hand before looking me over. "Well, let's see if we can get you started somewhere. Do you have any experience with the handling or care of Pokemon?"

I went silent for a moment before replying. "No, I don't have any first-hand experience, but I was hoping to fix that."

"That makes it a bit tougher, but we can always use another set of hands. It might be awhile before you're allowed to help with the Pokemon, you know that right? This is volunteer work too, so there's no paycheck. And I won't sugarcoat it, the work isn't always glamorous," she said while gathering a handful of forms and papers.

I hesitated for a moment before shaking my head. "I know. I can help though, that's what I'm here for," I told her.

"Here, fill these out so Deeni and I can find you something to do," she said, handing me a clipboard and a number of papers to sign. At the mention of her name, the Audino gave me a warm smile and another wave. I wondered if the Normal Type had been a rescue or if she belonged to Elaine or someone else at the Rehome Project.

There was a lot more paperwork than I expected, but I guess with this sort of work it was necessary. Release forms for emergency or injury, consenting to background checks, that sort of thing. I give them all of the information that they ask for before handing it back to Elaine. She flips through the forms, quickly skimming through them.

"Titus?" she says before looking up at me. "Let's get started, just go ahead through that door," she points to a set of double doors.

My first hour working for the Rehome Project sees me decked out in cleaning gear. They've given me a fresh uniform to wear instead of my own clothes. Goggles and a facemask, along with high rubber yellow wading boots and gloves that match. As I'm slipping the boots on I begin to dread the tasks that these will be necessary for. An older man with wild graying hair and an untamed beard introduces himself as Wendell. He's in charge of sanitation, keeping all of the Pokemon's areas clean and up to standard. The man doesn't seem to hate this work at all, and even confides that he's happy to see more volunteers. From a supply closet, he obtains two metal shovels and hands me one. I'm confused at first, as I thought we'd be cleaning the facilities.

"Well, first we hit the areas that the larger creatures reside in, gather up everything we can," he says as if it's an obvious thing. "Then we can go in for the deep clean."

"Gather it up?" I ask.

"It's part of how the Rehome Project stays open. We haul off the shit to farmers so they can have high quality manure, and they send us feed and other supplies. Rather than wash it down the drain to be dumped into the rivers or oceans, it feeds the earth and in turn, the earth feeds people and Pokemon alike," he explains, his fingers tugging at the long whiskers of his beard. "Most folks think we take in abused and neglected 'Mons and that's about where it ends, but we don't hardly get a damn thing for funding from the League. Gotta work with what we got, when all we really got is Ponyta crap with politicians and other rich folks either throwing money at us to look good, or throwing money at someone else to get us shut down."

That last part gave me something to pause over. I couldn't imagine wanting to have this place shut down. They were an organization trying to right the wrongs that humans have done to Pokemon.

"There are people that want you shut down?"

"'Course," the older man scoffed. "Politicians and the wealthy with an ax to grind will come up with any number of reasons to go after people doin' a good thing, they always do."

Wendell leads me to a large room with overhead lights. It resembles an enclosure you'd see for livestock, but a lot of them have heavy gates and fencing to keep them separated from each other. I don't see anyone else but I am immediately hit with the stench of the place, putting the back of my hand over my mouth and nose. The old man gets a chuckle out of this.

"Yeah, it ain't pretty. Wouldn't blame ya if you wanted to leave, most folks do," Wendell admits with a chuckle as he strides into the room unphased. He stops at one of the stalls, and I notice for the first time that there are name plates adorning them. My stomach feels a little sick, but I take a breath in and push through. Wendell drags a trash can to me that's seen better days and I begin depositing the heavy piles of droppings that have been left in the pen. I'm left alone to clean this half of the room while Wendell moves on to clean the others. It isn't pleasant, but I make my way to each enclosure while dragging the trash can with me. I thought I was moving at a decent pace until I noticed the old man had moved to help me finish with this half of the room. When we started I assumed his age would have him dragging ass but he was running laps around me. Throughout the cleaning, I have to keep myself from gagging but I manage to hold it together long enough to finish up the last of the pens with Wendell's help. Once we're finished, he leaves and returns with two large mop buckets filled with soapy water. Again, we go over each of them and despite it being January, I'm sweating after the first pen is mopped and hosed down. Wendell doesn't seem to be struggling, outpacing me once again and returning to help me finish the last of them. This takes us around an hour and a half, and though I'm certain I've only slowed him down, he says nothing of the sort.

As we're finishing the last enclosure, the old man speaks up.

"So Titus, what made ya want to volunteer?"

I hit the walls of the pen with the hose, the soap and water washing down to the drain at my feet. At first I'm not really sure how to answer. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining to this stranger but I also didn't want to act as if my volunteering here was a selfless act.

"Well, I actually wanted to be a Trainer, but it didn't quite pan out that way," I explained.

"Couldn't hack it could ya?"

"I never even started. Getting to help Pokemon seemed like a good alternative."

"S'nothin wrong with that, it's a good thing you're doin'. Most of these creatures didn't get dealt a good hand on account of the Trainers they had. C'mon, we're done with the pens, we can take a little break."

Wendell led me through the rest of the facilities for housing all of the Pokemon. There were simulated environments for a variety of species. From behind the pane of glass, I watched a flock of Zubat clinging to the roof of a dimly lit cave, occasionally screeching or nipping at one another. Below them, I spotted a Geodude with his arms wrapped around himself and a Drillbur poking his head out of the ground and watching us pass. There was a garden-like environment with sunlamps overhead, and what I could only guess were a variety of Grass Types blending in amongst the flowers. The older man opened a door and led me up a flight of stairs and out onto a wide platform overlooking a massive tank of water. The lights overhead reflected off the surface, making it hard to see what was lurking below. Out further in the water however, was a Lapras with a downcast expression that brightened as it spotted Wendell. In a few seconds it made its way towards us and lowered its neck to the older man, gently nudging him with its snout and pushing him over. Wendell didn't mind, in fact this seemed like a regular occurrence as he began laughing at the Water Type's antics.

"Hey now, easy girl, ya gotta let me stand up. Here," he chuckled before finally rising to his feet. The Water Type let out a low hum as the old man began scratching under her chin. "That's a sweet gal, aren'tcha?"

I was in awe. Lapras were incredibly rare Pokemon. From what I knew about them, they were hunted to near extinction. I didn't expect that I'd ever see one here. As I looked over the Water Type, I finally noticed the damage. She must've been battling for a long time or she wasn't properly cared for. All along her body, she was riddled with scarred flesh. Some of it drew straight clean lines across her body, others were more like burns. There were a lot more of those, actually. It was hard to ignore the obvious abuse she'd taken. If Lapras had a Trainer, then they had access to Pokemon Centers and the medical services they offered. They could restore most any wounds or injuries, even lost limbs or eyes weren't out of the question given enough time. It made me wonder what she's gone through to have lasting scars like that.

"You can step a little closer if ya'd like," Wendell said while turning to me. "She didn't come to us with any name but I've taken to calling her Etta 'n she seems to like that."

I took a few tentative steps closer, watching for any sign that I was making Lapras uncomfortable. Etta's head turned to me, her eyes meeting mine for the first time. The Water Type slowly blinked a few times before turning back to Wendell.

"She seems to really like you. Are all of the Pokemon this friendly with you?"

"Some of 'em are, yeah. Just takes time, and after what Trainers put 'em through, I just try to give 'em the love they deserve. Others got hardened hearts is what I say."

"What do you mean?"

"They been hurt bad, or gone so long in a bad situation that lettin 'emselves get close to other Pokemon 'n humans is scary for 'em. They get angry, mean sometimes and close 'emselves off to those around 'em. It takes love, and kindness and patience that most folks don't have to help creatures like these. They want weapons and tools, not projects," Wendell beamed, a bright smile that broke through his untamed mess of a beard. "Etta here, it took her a good long time but she came around. Used to be she wanted nothin' to do with me, but now I can't imagine not seeing her here."

The surface of the water was broken up by a few new Pokemon. A Mantyke with wide wings and a playful smile was the first, after which followed an Octillery and Psyduck. I'd lived in Jubilife for my entire life, so seeing these creatures up close was a new experience. In a large city you're likely to only see companion Pokemon like Snubbull or Chatot but on rare occasions Circuit Trainers would walk around with a member of their team that was suitable for street travel. A Gallade was far less obtrusive than a Tyranitar, for example.

Psyduck navigated the water far better than I thought he would, his little arms churning the water in front of him to propel himself forward before he scrambled up onto the platform with Wendell and I. Octillery seemed content to just observe as it floated along the surface. Even when it made eye contact with me its cool and indifferent expression never changed, it simply blinked and went back to watching everyone else. The little yellow duck waddled towards Wendell, his tiny wet feet slapping against the platform before he grabbed at the older man's pant leg and gently tugged on it.

"I haven't forgotten you, don't worry," Wendell chuckled before leaning down to scratch the yellow duck's head, who squawked as the tuft of black hairs on his head was rustled and shaken.

After several more minutes spent with the aquatic Pokemon, Wendell said his goodbyes and we left for the other areas that needed attending to. There was another series of enclosures to clean, after which I was seriously aching and wishing to go home. As we're washing out the last of the pens, a large garage door at the other end opens and Elaine walks in. Following at her side is her Audino, and behind them are a group of rescue Pokemon that slowly trickle into the room. The first is a Smeargle with black paint staining his tail, who I notice keeps the brim of his hat tipped down as he quickly walks past us. There's a Blitzle that seems confident at first, but soon takes a wide berth from Wendell and I before bolting to the other side of the room. Two Skiddo and a Swinub follow them, with a lazy looking Drowzee bringing up the rear. The last to enter is a shy Ponyta, her hooves tapping against the ground as she slowly plods towards a pen with a nameplate that says "Comet". Elaine and Deeni approach the Fire Type, giving her praise and encouragement, which seems to set her at ease.

"D'ya wanna meet her?" Wendell asks.

"Huh?"

"Comet's a little skittish, but she's real friendly. C'mon," the old man waves me forward as he gestures to Elaine and the Pokemon. He puts a hand out to Comet, who sniffs at it before taking a tentative step towards him and allowing him to pet her.

Slowly, I take a few steps towards them, trying my best not to move suddenly and scare the Ponyta. Wendell holds out an Oran Berry for me, and I take it, offering it to Comet with an outstretched hand. The Fire Type stares me down with intense dark eyes, and I can see its legs shaking slightly as it looks at me. After several nervous seconds, she backs away and takes off towards the other end of the room. Deeni chases after her, and Elaine gives me a sympathetic smile as she follows after both of them. I'm a little crushed, and I can't help but feel like I'd scared her somehow.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask Wendell.

"Nah, it ain't you, you're just a stranger to her is all. I shouldn'ta pushed it, shoulda let her warm up to ya first. Don't worry about it, s'not your fault," he assures me before leading me out of the room. I ask him about returning the cleaning gear, and he leads me to another room for me to leave it in before we return to the lobby.

"Well, we appreciate you helpin' us out. I hope that little thing with Comet isn't scaring ya off, though," he muses.

"Not at all! I'm just kind of sore from work and I think I may have pushed it too far today."

Wendell chuckles at that. "Better get some rest 'fore ya keel over then. It was nice to work with you, Titus. Come on back anytime, we can always use more help."

It's slightly warmer outside, but not by much, the midday sun doing its best to grace me with a little warmth as I walk stiffly to the bus stop. A long walk back to the apartment from here would be a terrible idea, even if I wasn't sore. Each step up the stairs has me cursing and wishing that the elevator had been fixed a long time ago, but it hadn't worked since I was ten years old. I hadn't missed it much then, but I sure did now.

My Mom is starting on her second cup of coffee when I walk in, the TV is tuned to some show about people with way too much money doing home remodels for free. She sets down her mug, her expression turning to a hopeful one as she watches me gingerly remove my boots and peel off some of the clothes keeping me insulated. As I hang up my coat, her excitement gets the better of her.

"So? How'd it go?"

I sat down in the ugly yellow recliner as I considered my answer.

"It was hard work. I was literally shoveling shit and I didn't feel like I helped very much but…" I trailed off as the words eluded me.

"But?"

"But I loved it," I admitted, feeling a sense of relief as I said the words out loud before turning to look at her. My mother had pursed her lips, which curved to form a tiny smile. I told her about all of the Pokemon I'd seen, about Wendell and Elaine. Mom sat with rapt eyes, taking in everything I said. She frowned and her expression turned sad when I told her about Etta and her scars, but she perked up when I told her about Psyduck. I admitted that I felt hurt about what had happened with Comet, that I felt like I'd scared her.

"I'm proud of you for going and giving it a try, Titus," she finally spoke up. "And I'm even happier that you enjoyed helping out. I think this will be good for you."

Working as much and as hard as I had for the past few years left me little time for myself, to do things I wanted to. I had learned that no amount of work could fix the feeling of dreading jobs that you hate, knowing that I'd have to wake up and drag myself to another miserable shift. There was no fulfillment in low wage work that barely kept us afloat. But those few hours at the Rehome Project felt different. I looked at my hands, slightly red and sore from using a shovel and mop, and I didn't regret the pain or a single minute spent helping them. I began to cry, feeling hope and joy for the first time in years.