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AliNovel > I Will Touch the Skies – A Pokemon Fanfiction > Chapter 115

Chapter 115

    Chapter 115


    <strong>CHAPTER 115</strong>


    <span style="font-weight:400">I entered a quaint cafe and immediately found my friends. It wasn’t difficult, since they were the biggest group in the ce, and two tables had to be stuck together for them. I smiled and strode up to their table.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Grace, over here,” Denzel beckoned. “Saved you a seat.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Thanks,” I said as I sat between him and Cecilia. “The new guy isn’t here yet?” I asked, looking at Emilia.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She was looking at her phone. “No, but he should be here any minute.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Denzel called over a waiter for me, and I ordered an egg and cheese bagel with some water. They had apparently all ordered before me, since I had been runningte and not answering the phone because I’d been on a route.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I want to warn you guys,” Emilia said. “Please don’t be mean to him.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What? Why would I be rude?” Pauline smiled. “He can’t be too bad, since he got you out of your shell. I’ll just ask him a few <em><span style="font-weight:400">questions</em><span style="font-weight:400">.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Please, let’s not be rude to a potential new friend. I’m sure the meeting will go well,” Justin said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Thank you, Justin,” she smiled softly.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Look, I’m just tired, so I’ll be chill,” I shrugged. “I almost had an ident with Turtonator.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">They all turned toward me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh shit,” Denzel gasped.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Are you okay?!” Cece asked worriedly.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, <em><span style="font-weight:400">I’m </em><span style="font-weight:400">fine,” I hurriedly rified. “I meant that he almost attacked another trainer that was just passing by. Sorry for not being clear.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Arceus, do <em><span style="font-weight:400">not</em><span style="font-weight:400"> scare us like that,” my girlfriend exhaled as she gripped my arm. I hurriedly apologized again.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“They’ll probablyin about it online,” Paulineughed. Now that she knew I hadn’t been in danger, she had immediately loosened up.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I don’t think it’s aughing matter,” I sighed. “He could be traumatized.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“He’ll go through a lot worse if he wants this job,” she simply stated. “Comes with the territory.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I wanted to retort, but Emilia interrupted us and pointed toward the entrance. Vincent was a short teen with long, wavy brown hair, thin lips, andrge eyes. I observed as he confidently walked toward us with a smile.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“He sure seems happy,” I muttered quietly enough so no one would hear.


    <span style="font-weight:400">He scanned the table as he walked, but his stare lingered on me longer, probably because of how I looked. Trainer scars weremon, but most weren’t as pronounced as mine, especially with how young I was.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hey everyone, sorry I’mte, I lost track of time when I was editing a video. My name’s Vincent Campbell,” he introduced himself with a smile.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh shit, you have a channel? No way, man!” Denzel eximed. “You’re gonna have to give me the nameter.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Most coordinators have them, remember?” Emilia rified. “Take a seat, Vincent.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">The boy sat, and we all introduced ourselves one by one. I noticed immediately that Vincent was a very extroverted individual— even more so than Denzel was. In fact, he and my best friend broke the ice immediately and seemed to get along very well after interacting for just a few minutes. I introduced myselfst.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m Grace Pastel,” I smiled. “Nice to meet the one that got Emi started on her coordinator stuff.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Grace, hm?” He said. “Can I justment on your scars? You look <em><span style="font-weight:400">really</em><span style="font-weight:400"> cool with them. It makes you stand out…”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Vincent didn’t finish his sentence, as the entire table froze.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Excuse me?” Cecilia asked, her tone icy.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Vincent…” Emilia winced.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Erm, did I say something—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Pauline mmed a palm against the table, causing the customers around us to look on with worried gazes. “The <em><span style="font-weight:400">fuck</em><span style="font-weight:400"> did you just say?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I— I—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, so now we stutter, huh? You sure seemed content to run your mouth—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Pauline,” I interrupted.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, Grace, this guy’s—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“It’s fine,” I said, discreetly nodding toward Emilia. She was staring down at her hands. “Hey, Vincent,” I called out.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m sorry, I didn’t— I mean, I still don’t know what was wrong, but if you tell me, I’ll apologize properly.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">


    <span style="font-weight:400">I stared at Vincent, and noticed that he did appear to be apologetic. He was beginning to sweat nervously, his tone was nowhere near as smooth and confident as it had been seconds earlier, and I could hear the faint tap of his shoe bouncing against the floor. I had considered that he had been faking it for a second, but he did appear genuine. It looked like Emi had picked a good friend, at the very least. He wasn’t tricking her here.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I exhaled as I calmly drummed my fingers against the table. I needed to approach this carefully. This was Emilia’s new friend. I needed to be nice.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Even though thatment had <em><span style="font-weight:400">infuriated me</em><span style="font-weight:400">.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Look, Vincent,” I started. “I’m not going to tell you how I got these. I don’t want you to treat me differently, or to feel bad for me— I mean, we barely know each other. But you need to realize that this isn’t a game.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I… I knew it wasn’t a game,” he said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You might have known, but I don’t think you truly incorporated that fact,” I continued. “To you, they’re just something I have. But consider this, Vincent. These had to <em><span style="font-weight:400">get on me</em><span style="font-weight:400">. My skin was seared until it was irreparably scarred.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Vincent’s eyes widened, and he grimaced. The words might have seemed simple, but after seeing his reaction, I knew I had been right. Vincent hadn’t even considered the simple fact that a burn like this didn’t get on you for no reason. It was <em><span style="font-weight:400">painful</em><span style="font-weight:400"> and <em><span style="font-weight:400">traumatic</em><span style="font-weight:400">. I had been the victim of this thought process before bing a trainer too. Plenty of people had scars in the battles I used to watch on television, and I <em><span style="font-weight:400">did</em><span style="font-weight:400"> think some of them were cool. That had been before.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Behind every single one was a painful memory.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Ah, shit,” he swore. “I was being an asshole, wasn’t I?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yes,” Denzel nodded. “But we can call it water under the bridge if that’s alright with you, Grace?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I guess I was thinking from a coordinator''s point of view,” Vincent said. “The distinguishing yourself thing… it’s a thing that every coordinator tries to do to separate themselves from the herd, so I meant it as apliment. I’m sorry. I swear, I wasn’t discriminating against trainers or anything.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“<em><span style="font-weight:400">Think</em><span style="font-weight:400"> before you speak,” Pauline hissed. “I’ll let it go for Emilia, but you’re on thin ice. No one fucks with my friends.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“It wasn’t intentional, Pauline,” Justin tried.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She clicked her tongue. “Whatever.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What do you mean by discriminating against trainers?” I asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Emilia spoke up, seemingly having recovered from the group’s little spat. “Some coordinators see trainers with disdain,” she exined. “Mostly because we— you get a lot of things for free.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“They also say that you guys act like you’re better than them,” Vincent added. “Which you’ll easily know is a load of bullshit if you spent five minutes with the first coordinator you find on the Walk.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“The Walk?” Denzel asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“The Coordinator’s Walk,” Vincent said. “The street leading up to the Hearthome Contest Hall.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Vincent went on to exin a lot of the city to us and the main attractions, which I appreciated because my dad would be here tomorrow, and I wanted to do a lot of things with him. The conversation then moved on to another topic.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“So, how’d you two meet?” Cecilia asked Vincent and Emilia.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, it was actually on the Walk, funnily enough. Some girl called Jasmine was—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Vincent,” Emilia said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You can skip over the details.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Pauline frowned. “No, go ahead. Tell me about this Jasmine girl.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Uh…” Vincent hesitated, stuck between a rock and a hard ce. Pauline’s murderous re seemingly won out, though, and he continued. “She was trying to trick Emilia. Asked her if she was staying at a hotel so that she and her friends could film a video there, and when she said no, she…”


    <span style="font-weight:400">He didn’t finish his sentence.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I think I can get the picture,” Pauline said, looking at Emi’s pained expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I wanted to handle it myself,” Emilia sighed. “I can do it. I know you want to help, but I’ve got to learn to do this stuff myself. You won’t always be there.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Pauline chewed on her words for a few seconds. “Okay.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Really?!” Emilia beamed, hugging the other girl’s arm. “Thank you so much.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“S’nothing,” she grumbled. “If we walk up on her when I’m with you, though…”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You won’t have to hold back,” Emi nodded.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I think I want to go see what the Coordinator’s Walk looks liketer,” Pauline said nonchntly. “Hey, what does this Jasmine gal look like?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Now you’re purposefully looking for trouble,” Justin sighed with a slight smile.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Look, if it’s worth anything, I think you guys are way nicer than your average coordinator,” Vincent said, probably trying to change the subject.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Don’t kiss my ass,” Pauline grumbled. “Makes you look and sound fake. I know you don’t like me.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“He just can’t win with you, can’t he,” I smiled.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m serious!” He eximed. “Y’all seem pretty nice. People normally wouldn’t have given me another chance after my fuck up earlier.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“They <em><span style="font-weight:400">are</em><span style="font-weight:400"> nice,” Emilia said. “Even Pauline. You just have to get to know her.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“So you mentioned that coordinators hate trainers earlier,” Denzel mused. “I honestly don’t see the same dislike toward you guys in our line of work.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“<em><span style="font-weight:400">Some</em><span style="font-weight:400"> coordinators,” he specified. “Like Jasmine, for example. But the majority won’t really care. They’re too busypeting with each other.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Cecilia let out a tired sigh. “What a cutthroat world. It seems exhausting.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Trainers and coordinators do seem fundamentally different,” I contemted with a nod.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“True,” Denzel agreed. “Trainers can be toxic to each other, but at the end of the day, we have each other’s backs.”<span style="font-weight:400">


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Probably because we don’t actuallypete with each other— at least not in an official manner— until we get to the Conference,” I said. “Imagine if people had to battle each other to get a badge.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Okay, yeah, I can see how that’d degenerate very quickly,” Denzel said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Plus, we travel together in the routes,” Cecilia added. “Harsh experiences create bonds. Coordinators have none of that.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Doesn’t mean they have to be fake pieces of shit,” Pauline said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“The performances make it worth it,” Vincent said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You ever been in a performance?” She asked aggressively.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Emi told us about—” Denzel spoke up until Pauline interrupted him with a single stare.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Twice, and none of them were for a ribbon,” he quickly answered. “The first one, I lost horribly. The second one, I lost. Also horribly.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">We all chuckled lightly. I was d I gave Vincent another chance. Emilia seemed overjoyed that we were getting along. She had probably been worried she would have had to lose her only coordinator friend. Plus, he didn’t seem to know much about us because he wasrgely disconnected from trainer news, which was a positive in my book. We continued talking for an hour, although most of the conversation had turned toward content creation. Denzel and Emilia wanted to do a ‘cob,’ and he also wanted to shout out her channel to give her a head start. He had fifty-thousand subscribers now, and his channel was still growing exceptionally quickly. I wondered if it was going to get him unwanted attention from other coordinators, especially with what Vincent had told us about how a good number of them hated trainers. There could be some jealousy issues there.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, it was nice meeting you, Vincent,” I told him as we exited the cafe.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Likewise. Sorry again about earlier. And Denzel, don’t forget to contact me! We’ve got to get that video filmed before y’all leave Hearthome!” Vincent yelled as he left.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sure!” he grinned.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What is the video even going to be about? I spaced out,” Pauline asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“They’re going to make me try toe up with a performance with no prep time and act as the judges. I’ll most likely fail horribly, which could be good content. Emilia will upload the video, and Vincent will help her edit it. It’ll be a good base to build up from.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Emilia’s smile was so bright I almost felt the need to cover my eyes. “This is going to be so good!” She squealed, sneaking in between Denzel and Pauline as she wrapped her arms around theirs. “Now I’ve just got to keep working hard for my performance. I''m close to a breakthrough with Shadow Ball.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh right, that reminds me!” Denzel eximed. “I still need to borrow your Shadow Ball TM!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Borrowing TMs, huh?” I teased.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What? It’s the smart thing to do! I’ve got to save for two evolutionary stones!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I chortled. “Anyway, are you guys ready?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Pauline and Justin looked at me with fired-up expressions. Justin’s Audino was set to arrive tomorrow, and they were going to sign up for Fantina’s gym. There’d probably be a decently long wait time, so he hoped that since it was a bred Pokemon, it’d be easy to train so that he could use it in battle. I considered it a very interesting tactic, considering ghosts and normal type attacks couldn’t hit each other for any amount of significant damage. Something about the two type energies canceled each other out. Apparently, the Audino he had ordered would have the <em><span style="font-weight:400">Regenerator</em><span style="font-weight:400"> ability too, which was incredibly busted, since it meant that the Pokemon would continuously heal its injuries when it got a chance to rx, and the process was further sped up when it was recalled. The longer they stuck in their Pokeballs, the more damage they repaired, which meant that you couldn’t just recall your Pokemon and instantly rerelease them, but it still had a lot of powerful applications. Tangrowth could have had it too, if I had gotten lucky, but Chlorophyll woulde into its own as soon as we managed to learn Sunny Day.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Cecilia paid for a taxi, and we were driven to Fantina’s gym, which was the usual stadium-like building, and we waited for Justin and Pauline to go through the queue to sign up. The lobby was unusually active, but it was probably because Hearthome was a big city. People were squeezing past each other to get to the spectating area.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What’d you find out about Fantina earlier?” Denzel asked me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“That she’s going to be tough,” I shrugged. “Ghosts are a bitch to fight. Expect the battle to be long and exhausting.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Just how I like ‘em,” he said confidently.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Please, at least do some <em><span style="font-weight:400">surface-level</em><span style="font-weight:400"> research,” I told both Cecilia and Denzel. “There actually aren’t that many Pokemon to learn about.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“How many?” Cece asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Twenty.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“We have different definitions of ‘not many,’” Denzel shook his head.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I sighed. They were both lost causes. “Well, at least we get to watch Justin’s and Pauline’s battle before our own this time.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“They’re a badge below us. I don’t expect it to help that much,” Cecilia shrugged.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“If it was any other type, I would have agreed,” Denzel said. “But Grace is right here. It’ll help to see how ghosts operate. I mean, the only one I’ve ever seen was that Mismagius.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“And Dusknoir,” my girlfriend somberly added. “It’s true that they are decently rare, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Suddenly, I heard huge cheers emanate from the battlefield.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Must be a good battle going on,” I smiled. “Should we go see?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Denzel stood on his tiptoes and craned his neck. “Looks packed to the brim, I don’t think we’ll get through.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">After fifteen minutes, Justin and Pauline came back.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“We’re on in five days, in the afternoon,” Justin proudly dered. “Pauline’s first, since she so desperately wanted to go—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You should be happy I’m going first,” she huffed. “I’m letting you get some intel.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“That’s when Chase ising back,” Cecilia pondered.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Chase won’te watch,” I said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“He’d probably say something like— <em><span style="font-weight:400">I don’t have time to waste on watching these low leveled battles,</em><span style="font-weight:400">” Cece recalled fondly.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Seems like a <em><span style="font-weight:400">real </em><span style="font-weight:400">angel,” Pauline said. “Anyway, what now?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, a fewpanies answered me, and I’ve got my first meeting in…” Denzel trailed off as he grabbed his Poketch. “Three hours. I was wondering if any of you could help me out? Rehearse a little? Figure out what they’d do to fuck me over?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Say no more,” Pauline said. “Emi, Cece,e with.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Actually, I’m going to train,” Cece dered.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“So am I,” Justin nodded.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Any answers on your side, Grace?” My best friend asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I checked on the bus. One answer from that shoepany I talked to you about, and the meeting’s next week. But nothing from the Poketch Company.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Cecilia crossed her arms. “If I had to guess, they’ve probably read your message, but they’re deliberately taking their time to answer.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Why would they do that?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, you made them wait, right? It might be their way of letting you know that they didn’t appreciate it.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I sighed. “They <em><span style="font-weight:400">did </em><span style="font-weight:400">send their first email when we were in Snowpoint. I could have answered…”


    <span style="font-weight:400">


    “And now that they’ve seen you’ve answered back, they know you want to work with them. That means the bnce of power’s back in their favor,” Emilia nodded. “Be careful.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I will, don’t worry,” I reassured her. “I thought they were supposed to be <em><span style="font-weight:400">nice</em><span style="font-weight:400">. You guys go do your stuff, I’m gonna hang out here and decide what to do.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">We all bid each other farewell and went our separate ways. I considered my options before deciding to go off and train too. Maybe I could find one of the arenas and battle some trainers there with Tangrowth, or I could go back on Route 208 or visit Amity Square to work on Togetic’s Wish. Well, the closest option was Amity Square, so I’d go there—


    <span style="font-weight:400">A girl with sses and jet ck hair paced through the lobby, followed by a group of… fans? One of them carried a banner with the word ‘LET’S GO LAUREN’ written on it in a fancy, almost unreadable font, but the girl seemed to pay them no mind. In fact, she wasn’t even listening to what they were saying since she was wearing ear pods and her head was nodding to the rhythm of what I assume was music.


    <em><span style="font-weight:400">The name Lauren…</em>


    <span style="font-weight:400">Wait, was this <em><span style="font-weight:400">Craig’s sister? </em><span style="font-weight:400">They certainly shared the same hair color, and their eyes and noses were the same shape. I discreetly followed the small but dedicated group, who were asking for Lauren’s autograph. I remembered from my research online that her fans weren’t as numerous as other trainers in the Circuit, but they were devoted to finding out every crumb of information about her. They reminded me of some of the fans coordinators had. They could get <em><span style="font-weight:400">very</em><span style="font-weight:400"> rabid, even driving some to quit the industry after they were found to be dating someone. I was surprised to see that she was even out and about in broad daylight, however. She usually battled as early orte as possible to attract the least attention. What was she doing here in the middle of the afternoon?


    <span style="font-weight:400">Lauren released a Duosion, who hovered above her, and the people following her clenched their heads and backed off.<em><span style="font-weight:400"> Was that even allowed…?</em><span style="font-weight:400"> The psychic type seemed unharmed, which meant that she hadn’t used it in her battle. I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure it had actually been <em><span style="font-weight:400">her</em><span style="font-weight:400"> battling, but the fact that some of her fans carried banners to encourage her certainly made me lean that way.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Well, I <em><span style="font-weight:400">had</em><span style="font-weight:400"> promised Craig that I’d tell his sister to call him if I met her.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I took a deep breath and quickly approached her, tapping her shoulder. Duosion moved around in its goo-like substance, and Lauren stopped in her tracks. She turned toward me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hello?” I hesitantly said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She just stared at me, and then at Duosion. And then at me again. After what seemed like an eternity, she took off her ear pods.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You… seem alright. Can I help you?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Her voice was so quiet it was practically inaudible, especially with my busted ear drum.


    <span style="font-weight:400">


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Erm, I’m Grace. I know your brother Craig. I know this is sudden, but he asked me to call him if I ever met you.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Her meek expression changed to an exasperated one for a split second. “Oh… what do you think, Duosion?” She asked. After a few seconds, she talked again. She didn’t seem to be in any pain from the telepathy, but I doubted that it was because she was used to it enough. No matter how many times you spoke to your psychic types, you would at least feel <em><span style="font-weight:400">some</em><span style="font-weight:400"> pain if you had only owned it for a few months. Lauren either had a very high pain tolerance, or was simply good at hiding the fact that she was suffering a massive headache. “Trustworthy? You’re right, she doesn’t seem like a stalker…”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You’ve been stalked?” I asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“During my stay in the city…” she whispered. “They keep following me, but they’re harmless.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh. Well, I won’t follow you,” I said. “Just let me do this favor for your brother? I owe him a whole lot.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Fine,” she sighed.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I dialed his number, and he thankfully answered. For all I knew, he could have been flying off somewhere.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Grace! Long time no see. What’s up?” He asked cheerfully.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No… um, I’ve got your sister in front of me. I’ll hand her the phone.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I ignored his freak-out and gave Lauren my Poketch. As soon as she brought the phone to her ear, her whole demeanor changed.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I thought I told you to stop trying to contact me!” She yelled angrily into the phone. Duosion worriedly jumped around in its goo. “Shut your mouth! I want nothing to do with you!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I felt like I shouldn’t have been hearing this.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“If I’m seen with you, people will think I’m getting help from you, you shitter!” She screamed. “No! No— don’t you <em><span style="font-weight:400">dare</em><span style="font-weight:400"> fly here. No! I don’t want to see you!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">There was another pause.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m not sticking around. I got my badge, and I’m leaving,” she said. “All the bullshit messages you sent me about being more public only got me some creepy fans. I hate you.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I awkwardly stared at the floor, hoping this conversation would be over. This wasn’t what I had expected at all.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Lauren sighed. “Her? Fine… if you say so,” she said, in a surprising change of heart. “As long as you don’t actuallye here.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Then, she stared at <em><span style="font-weight:400">me</em><span style="font-weight:400"> and seemingly remembered that I was hearing everything being said, since Craig had probably mentioned me by name. “Okay… yeah… I’ll stick around for a little bit,” she muttered. “Nothing happened. Just… bye.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Lauren handed me my Poketch back. “Sorry you had to see me that way,” she continued with her meek voice. It was like she had done aplete one-eighty, but maybe that was how close she was with her brother. “Craig just gets on my nerves.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hey, I won’t tell,” I shrugged. “So I guess that’s it.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">She nodded. “Craig told me that you and your friends were good…” Lauren quietly said. Her eyes suddenly lit aze with a passion I knew too well. “I’m sticking around until I see all of you battle Fantina.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I smiled. “Are you sure? You seemed like you wanted to leave badly.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“There’s a tournament in Sceon I want to sign up for,” she muttered. I perked up at the mention of a tournament, and she continued. “It’s in a bit, so I should still be able to make it. And so should you, if you don''t lose against Fantina. You losing would be disappointing, though...”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I won''t lose,” I dered. “None of us will. I should probably tell my friends about all of this. Um, it was nice to meet you?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No. Don’t tell more people about me,” she shook her head.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh. Um, okay?”


    <em><span style="font-weight:400">My friends were cool, though…</em>


    <span style="font-weight:400">Lauren nodded, giving me her number to tell her when our gym battles would take ce. Afterward, she put her ear pods back in, and walked off with her Duosion as she bobbed her head to music.


    <hr>
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