Hey everyone! This chapter's short, which is a breather (at least for me). I tried to loosen up a bit and let the writing flow for this one, because lately I think I've been focusing so much on padding things up that I'd lose my handle on the pacing. Or maybe it's an illusion. In any case, I consider this chapter ready as it is, since I didn't intend for any other events to take place in it. Nevertheless, it's an important one (even though I always say that).
Hope you like it!
4.1
“Good afternoon, Sinnoh. This is Teddy Ray live with SNN, bringing you the top news of the hour. Perhaps to no one’s surprise, the hot topic of the moment is the GASP press conference, which aired last night on televisions all across Hoenn and Sinnoh, providing the world a first-ever glimpse into the space organization’s future plans. But now, it appears that those plans could be facing their first serious challenge, one that has come from an unlikely source— the Pokémon Rights Activist Group of Sinnoh. Founded in 1943, the PRAG has grown from a humble, underfunded organization to a self-sustaining entity with thousands of members nationwide, one that makes itself known on a yearly basis through fundraisers, charities, and legal campaigns. It was through their efforts that in 1952, the Pokémon League introduced an ethical code for pokémon trainers, and in 1955, the federal government passed laws to regulate the use of performance-enhancing substances like Rare Candies. The PRAG’s voice is one that never quite goes out of a Sinnohan’s ears, and perhaps in some cases, for the better. But never before has an activist group achieved notoriety on such a level. As of this moment, the PRAG might be getting even more attention than GASP itself. Now, we take you live to the site of their anticipated protest, where the events of next week will unfold.”
Right then, the scene switches, and a skyline of large, pillar-like buildings appears from a watery horizon.
“Sunyshore has famously been called the most modern city on the planet. In 1953, it became the first to implement the large-scale use of solar energy, installing solar panels on the roofs of official buildings to help power them in the summertime. The design of these panels derives from technology developed by Team Galactic, whose spacecraft draw a portion of their power from the sun’s rays. The technology was gradually perfected through a close correspondence between Galactic and city officials, and now, entire residential communities feature solar roofs, which partially provide for many utilities like hot water.”
Crowds. Cheers. The camera zooms in on a group of civilians, where a man stands up close, speaking into a microphone. “I find it ironic that a city that uses technology created by the space program is hosting a protest
against the space program.”
“Sunyshore also features the most versatile and efficient subway system in Sinnoh, with over a hundred different stops that make it possible to travel to nearly any point in the city. Needless to say, the Pokémon Rights Group had no reservations in choosing their location. It’s a city built to keep itself moving.”
The camera gives an aerial view of a large, open square, surrounded by acres of green grass, staring out like an eye from the sea of surrounding buildings.
On July 23rd, the entire world will have its eyes set on a single place — the Grand Assembly Square, located in the heart of the city. Previously known as the site of music festivals and world fairs, it has now been given yet another role to play, this time as the center stage of a global movement. It has all the equipment for the job — a ten-acre field, movable stages and stands, and access to all major modes of transportation. In a matter of a few days, this blank canvas will be transformed into the epicenter of city life.
“… Of course, the protest isn’t everyone’s top priority. The city continues to enjoy a prospering market season, when importers from all over the world show their collection of novelties, popular among trainers and townsfolk alike. Plans are underway to update the design of skyscrapers, using new innovations in architecture to increase height, as well as durability during summer storms. I think it goes without saying that, whether it’s before or after the protest, Sunyshore will remain the golden beacon of Sinnoh’s eastern coast, its beauty shining forever on.”
//////
Thump, thump… thump, thump…
Michael’s shoulder was pressed against the shuddering wall of a high-speed train. After a long period of dozing, he slowly opened his eyes, straightening his posture as he tuned back into his surroundings. The darkness outside the window had given way for a line of flickering lights, indicating that the station was fast approaching.
Moments later, there came the sound of crackling static from the loudspeaker.
“Attention. We are arriving at the Golden Bay Rail Terminal in Sunyshore City. Please remove all valuables from your compartment as you leave the train.”
From the seat across from him, Shella clasped her hands together. “I can’t wait to see it. I heard Sunyshore is beautiful!”
“And big,” Bertha replied. She had a map open on her lap, and was looking through a visitor’s guide she had gotten from a stewardess. “It’s got lots of attractions for trainers. Museums, workshops, community centers…” She looked over to the boys and smiled. Michael didn’t respond. Beside him, Henry cast his gaze off to the ceiling.
“You guys are awfully quiet,” Shella remarked. “How were your battles with Marie? Was she tough?”
Henry shrugged. “Yeah. Pretty tough.”
“I wonder who the leader for this one will be,” Shella continued. “Do you know them, Bertha?”
Bertha shook her head. “Nope, and neither does Marie. She said he was new, and for some reason he came to replace the old one. The weird part is, I think I might’ve met the old Leader once. I can’t remember his name, though.” She folded up the brochure and put it back into her folder. “At any rate, we’ll meet the new guy today. I already have the Gym’s address, so after we book our rooms, it’ll only take a few minutes to get there. After that, you can I can get started on petition business.” Bertha took out another sheet of paper and showed it to Shella. “See this? It’s a permit to set up our own business space at the protest. Marie helped me get it from the League Office. We’ll have our own tent and table, so the guests can come up and sign.”
Shella beamed. “Wow, that’s wonderful!”
Michael grumbled. Hardly a day had passed, and already Shella and Bertha were the best of friends. That whole ride, they had been talking nonstop – first about Bertha’s work, then Shella’s own job back in Hoenn, and other random things encompassing clothes, music, and cities. Maybe it was a girl thing.
After a few minutes, the train slid to a steady stop, and compartment doors began to slide open all along the hallway. Shella led the way out, and Bertha followed behind the boys as they entered the main flow of the crowd. The four of them stepped out of the train, sticking together in a tight clump as the rest of the passengers spilled out onto the platform. They took an escalator up to the main level of the station, which was a bustling conglomeration of signs, ticket booths, and fast food restaurants. Bertha seemed to have a good idea of where she was going, so they managed to bypass the customer service lines and step immediately out onto the open street.
Sunyshore was a mix of styles and colors, embracing them on either side with bulky concrete buildings and an endless array of windows and signs. Shops were lined up with hardly a foot of wall space in between, some standing open to welcome customers from the streets, others boarded shut and taped over with construction company logos. The roadways were clogged with cars of every type imaginable, from sleek, classy models to freight trucks, which together created a fog of noise that permeated the air like no pollutant could have ever done. A taxi would have only hindered their progress.
As Michael walked, he noticed that the sidewalks proffered benches at every opportunity, from bus stops to casual resting places, and that they were always covered overhead by strange flat roofs on metal stilts. When he passed them, they were suddenly struck by the glare of the sun, revealing rectangular grid patterns that glowed against the black surface.
Solar panels.
The more he looked around, the more of them he saw. They were hidden in the most inconspicuous places, like window shades, and the tops of traffic lights. He would have marveled aloud at them, but he doubted whether his companions would have even heard him speak. Over the sounds of cars and people, everyone’s head seemed to be buzzing with that frantic rush that takes hold in a big city, when one can’t help but hurry because everyone else is.
Bertha led him, Henry, and Shella through a winding path of streets and intersections, till at one moment she stopped suddenly and pointed ahead. “There it is!”
The Pokémon Trainer Hotel jutted out unimpressively from a gap between the regular buildings, its property enclosed by brick walls. It was fatter than the previous hotels, and took up a greater slice of the street, which was apparently due to the fact that Sunyshore was a popular departure point for the Elite Four Island. Rumor had it that Ricky Sheldon had slept in one of the rooms on the day he challenged the Elite Four, and had made a carving somewhere that read:
Ricky Sheldon — Champion. Now, trainers everywhere were trying to find that room, hoping that old Ricky’s luck would rub off on them.
The group of four hastened inside, and entered a bustling lobby with two counters and a medley of doors. Michael and Henry hung back in silence while Bertha booked their rooms, one for her and Shella, and the other for them. To Michael’s dismay, they turned out to be right next to each other.
Bertha gave them all a few minutes to unpack and gather their necessities, then she rounded them up and set off to find the Gym.
They took the subway this time, traveling all the way to the eastern outskirts of the city. After several minutes in darkness, the train suddenly emerged into full daylight, where from Michael’s side, the image of a low, rocky shoreline spilled into the windows. The city center was a far cry away now, and they were riding through a calm suburban area, where buildings were lower and sparser.
When they got off, they passed through the station and set off after Bertha down a quiet street. Here, the businesses consisted mostly of cheap restaurants and convenience stores. Somewhere in the distance, Michael could see a collection of houses, the start of a residential district. They were also startlingly close to the shoreline, for in the gaps between the buildings to his left, he could see nothing but open sky, and occasionally heard the rush of waves over the sound of passing cars.
“Well, this is it. The last strip of civilization before the open sea.” Bertha smiled, and stopped to study her map. “If we keep going east, it’ll be nothing but water, all the way till we reach Kanto.”
“Whoa.” Henry blinked as he looked over the distant houses, whose roofs were individually silhouetted against the clear, yellowing sky.
“It seems like an odd place to have a Gym,” Shella remarked. “Especially since it’s so far away from the hotel.”
“That’s how it is in a lot of big cities,” Bertha said. “But really, it’s no problem for trainers. Most of them even prefer bigger Gym towns, since they have more resources they can use to help themselves.” Her eyes swept their surroundings a final time, then she kept going.
The Sunyshore Gym turned up at the end of that block, standing on a side of the road all to itself. It was a long yellow building with round windows, accented by a few trees and neatly-trimmed grass.
A yellow submarine, Michael thought grimly.
For some reason, there was a child’s playground close by, where lots of little kids were running about and shouting. The sounds were jarring to Michael’s ears, and he avoided making eye contact with them as he followed Bertha to the doors.
Inside, the Gym resembled a school science lab, with white, tiled floors and flat ceiling lights. The walls were covered with posters about electricity, detailing safety rules and applications. A door hung open on the far left side, revealing a room full of craft tables and display equipment.
Without a word, Bertha approached the front counter. The table was built into the wall, and closed off a large opening that revealed an office room. One woman sat inside. She was dressed like a clinic receptionist, with a long white coat over her regular clothes. Seeing Bertha, she scooted her chair over to her, and the two of them talked. Finally, the attendant turned out of the room, and her head reappeared moments later from the right hallway. “Okay, Miss Herrida, follow me!”
She beckoned, and led them down a long series of doorways. She turned into one of the open rooms, which was furnished with some bookshelves, tables and chairs.
Inside was a young man who stood with his back to them, consisting of a head of light hair, a shirt collar, and a long white lab coat that hid most of his frame. He was standing on a stool before a blackboard, adjusting a banner that read: ‘Welcome Parents of Sunyshore Elementary!’ The attendant rapped her knuckles on the doorframe, and the man jumped, accidentally losing his grip on one of the pins. It plunked to the floor, and the banner sagged over the man’s head as he stooped to pick it up. Michael was reminded of Professor Emerson, and felt a pang of pity.
The man muttered as he tried to locate the pin, twisting and turning in an attempt to keep a hand on the board. “Just a second, just a second, hold on!” He found the pin and tacked the poster back into place. He rubbed his face, as if that had taken a significant amount of effort, and stepped down from the stool. “Graduated from the best academy in Rustboro and they have me putting up posters…” With a sigh, he approached his guests. Up close, Michael saw he was in his mid-twenties, though from afar, the man’s exhaustion had seemed to age him. “Yes? What can I do for you?”
“Sir, this is Bertha Herrida from the Eterna City Gym. And these two trainers are here to schedule battles.”
“Bertha Herrida?” The man rubbed his chin. “Bertha Herrida… ah, with that petition? Yes, I remember now. You don’t have to tell me anything, Mr. Bradford from Hearthome already explained it to me. Unfortunately, there’s no way I can help you.”
Bertha blinked. “What? What do you mean?”
The man waved her down, as if to quell a rising flame of protest. “It’s nothing to do with me, now, don’t think I’m saying this out of resentment, because I mean it in the nicest possible way. I can’t support your petition because, first of all, I’m not a citizen of this country, and second of all, I’m technically not the leader of this Gym — I’m only filling in — so getting involved with a petition would create a big legal mess and lots of paperwork that I think neither of us have the time to sit through. So, with all due respect, I think you’d best move on.”
Bertha shook her head. “If you’re not a Sinnoh citizen and you’re not the Gym leader, then who is?”
The man winced. “I am, I am the Gym leader, just not
the Gym leader. I’m filling in for him, I already told you. I can hold battles and give out badges, but not sign petitions. I’m doing a sort of foreign exchange program with the person that’s supposed to be here. The way it works is that I stay here as leader for a couple years, and in the meantime he goes to
my Gym. In Mauville City.”
A smile broke across Shella’s face. “You’re from Hoenn? So am I!”
The man gave a comical bow. “Yes, yes, that’s me, I’m the foreigner. Visitors always take care to remind me of that whenever Team Galactic strikes a victory of some sort… then they wonder why I don’t give them or their child a Gym badge. Haha!” The man chuckled, then dispelled it with a shake of the head. “But no, that was a joke, don’t worry, I obviously give badges to people who earn them. Then I kindly remind them that if it wasn’t for Team Rocket’s early work, we wouldn’t have even gotten into space! Hah!” He let out another guffaw, arm folding over his stomach. When he calmed down, he turned to Bertha anew. “So if you’re looking for all eight Sinnoh Gym leaders to sign your document, you’ll have to contact my colleague in Mauville. I’m sure he’d be happy to help you.”
Bertha nodded. “All right, I guess that would be fine. Is there any way you can get me in touch with him?”
“Of course. I have the number. We just gotta get the codes right and fiddle around with the operators. Long distance calling was never my favorite thing in the world, but fortunately in Hoenn I got enough practice with it.” His gaze focused away from their faces and he gave a slight grimace. “I’m telling you, being a Gym leader in Hoenn is nothing like being a leader in Sinnoh. The Gyms here are all like little islands; I could go a whole year without letting the League Office know I exist. But if I telegrammed my quarterly Gym report
one day late in Hoenn, they’d fine me.” He shrugged. “I guess there are some perks to being isolated, though. You don’t have to comply with silly regulations on decorations, or deal with people coming in every year to measure the exact dimensions of your battle rooms. I’m telling you, there’s a fine line between central planning and obsessiveness.”
He trailed off, and after a period of silence, Bertha checked her watch. “So, do you think we can we make the call right now? I’m not sure what time it is in Mauville…”
“Four hours behind, so the battle day is just getting started,” the man replied. “But I don’t think he’ll mind. He’s usually pretty free in the mornings. And the call will only take a minute or two to set up.”
“Perfect,” said Bertha. “I’m just in a semi-hurry right now, because I need to be certain I have his backing before the Gym season is over.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, you will. Now, what else was it you wanted? Ah, trainers, right?” The man looked at Michael and Henry. “Here to battle? Good. We can’t do it today, though. I have an information session I’m supposed to give to some school parents, about how the Gym can help supplement their kids’ science classes and whatnot. So we’ll do it tomorrow.”
Michael’s eyes flew open in alarm. “But we haven’t even trained yet!”
The man responded with an equally bemused expression. “Then why did you come now? Bah, I can’t fathom this whole ‘booking’ nonsense. If you’re ready, you come to the Gym and battle. If you’re not, you wait until you are. Why should you assume that in ninety-six or however many hours you’ll suddenly be ready to battle me, just because you booked it?” He shook his head again.
“I’ve just come to introduce myself,” Bertha said. “These boys are with me. My schedule has nothing to do with theirs, the only exception being that we prefer to leave the city together. From my experience, it takes them about a week to prepare for their battles. Do you think we could have all the paperwork with your colleague done by then?”
“Of course. I don’t see why not,” said the man. “We’re all pretty busy at this time of year, but he has staff too, and they’ll work something out. Worst comes to worst, if you’re out of the city, he’ll just mail all his signatures to me, then I’ll give them to the League Office and they’ll transfer them to you. And as for your battles—” he turned to the boys “—just train however you feel like it and come battle me when you’re ready. If you want to do it next week, though, make sure it’s not on the day of that protest. I’d appreciate your rebellious spirit, but I probably won’t be in that day. As a matter of fact, I’ll probably stay home with the curtains drawn, because the noise will probably be so colossal, I’ll think there’s an earthquake.”
Michael and Henry chuckled. Bertha smiled. “It’s all right. We’ll be
at the protest.”
After a moment, the man nodded in understanding. “Of course. Publicity. Get it any way you can…” He pressed his finger to his chin and began to turned around in place like a Psyduck. “What am I forgetting… no, I don’t think there’s anything. Is that all?”
Bertha inclined her head. “Yep.”
“Okay. Now for your phone call, go run with Julia and she’ll set it up for you. My name’s Wattson, by the way. Pleased to meet you.” He extended a hand, and Bertha shook it.
“Thank you.” She gave him a nod, and turned aside. “Shella, you can come with me. Boys, you can either both tag along, or I take one of you and the other waits here.”
Michael shrugged. “I’ll pass.”
“Okay then. Henry?”
Henry paused. “Um, I’ll go.” He cast Michael a glance, then went off with Bertha, Shella, and the attendant.
Wattson didn’t seem to attach any significance to their exchange. He went back to the blackboard and smoothed the banner to his satisfaction. Then, he bent down to a box and began to shuffle through the items, taking out some wavy paper borders and a stapler.
In the meantime, Michael sat down at one of the chairs and draped his arms over its back. He watched Wattson for a few moments, as he stapled the borders together and attached them to the blackboard. His motions were careful and exact, like those of an experienced arts-and-crafts teacher, and periodically he stepped back to make sure everything was aligned.
Once the silence had started to stretch, Michael spoke up. “So, who’s the leader that’s normally here?”
Wattson looked askance. “Oh, he’s a right swell guy. Name’s Kirk. Grew up right here in the city, and he’s been interested in electricity all his life, just like me. We still write every month to let each other know how it’s faring on the other side. He likes calling me Watt-son. I counter back by calling him Kirk-hoff.” He began to chuckle, evidently expecting Michael to follow suit. When he didn’t, Wattson frowned. “What, you don’t know Kirchhoff? Laws of electric circuits?”
Michael cracked a smile. “Enough to get an A in science.”
Wattson shook his head, half-closing his eyes. He took out another handful of paper frames and began to staple them together.
“So why did Kirk leave?” Michael continued.
“Well, first I thought it was because he wanted to see Mauville,” said Wattson. “That was me flattering myself. It’s a good city. A lot like Sunyshore, too, though it’s a bit cleaner. Nice shore, clear sky... Of course, then I got here, and found the real reason.” He slammed the stapler closed over the seam of two segments. “This place is a
circus. Construction — nonstop! That primary school — right down the street!” He pointed out the window with his thumb. “I’ve got kids coming to that playground every day, all afternoon, screaming their heads off and pushing each other off swings. Some of them wander around here, naturally, so to keep things going when it’s not Gym season, we double up as a sort of learning center. You probably saw that we have a little science exhibit in the front. Well that’s not all of it; there are more rooms, and other rooms that are battle rooms in the summer and lab rooms in the fall… well, and what do you think? If you’re educating the kids, you’ll get parents from the school calling you up about day camps, teachers asking about field trips, and all that stuff. That’s for the older kids, obviously, the ones that are almost old enough to be trainers, so there’s the added benefit of getting them interested in the League. But the young ones?” Wattson flicked his hand. “They can’t tell a pokéball from a baseball. And it doesn’t matter to them. It’s their age; they can’t help it.”
He continued attaching the frames while he talked, and when he had covered the whole perimeter of the board, he tossed everything back into the box and lifted it off the ground. “If you don’t mind, kid, could you open the door?”
“Sure.” Michael got up and held the door. Wattson hobbled out with the box in his arms, then disappeared into another room. He returned a minute later, peeking his head into the doorway. “If you want, you can go outside,” he said. “You don’t have to sit staring at the wall the whole day. Not like me.”
After a moment, Michael nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’ll wait for Bertha to finish.” He lifted a hand. “Later.”
Wattson gave a wave, and Michael left the room.
He drifted over to the lobby, where he case a fleeting glance to the craft room, then continued through the front doors. He set off down the sidewalk and began to pace around the lawn of the Gym, hands in his pockets. The noise of rushing cars was quieter here, and the street was wide and empty. Wanting some company, he slipped his backpack down his arm and took out a pokéball. It was Butterfree’s. The pokémon dove out of the capsule, and he held out his arm for her to settle down.
He watched her flutter her wings for a moment, getting a feel for the outside air. Her vivid colors stood out against the dim-green crowns of the surrounding trees.
“So,” he said. “You like Sunyshore?”
Butterfree clicked her jaws.
“Can’t like it if you haven’t seen it, brainy.”
Michael walked over to the playground, which had thankfully emptied, and was now clear save for a small group of kids. They were holding a conversation over by the sandbox. Michael walked around the playscape with Butterfree at his side, taking care to steer clear of them. He never knew what to say to children. He appreciated mothers’ efforts at liking every child in sight and acting interested in what they were up to, but he knew he could never do it himself.
He sat down on a swing and let Butterfree go, where she went to skim over some flowering bushes. She came back moments later and settled on his lap, her fangs dripping with honey. Michael smiled.
“You like flying, don’t you?” he said. “Must feel good, not having to crawl around everywhere anymore. And knowing that no one’s ever gonna step on you in battle, either. All those guys who looked down on your before are regretting it now.”
Butterfree fixed her gaze on him, and he nodded for emphasis. Then, after a pause, he frowned. “I would’ve used you for my battle with Marie, you know, if you evolved sooner. Now I don’t think I can use you for this one. You’re part Flying. That makes you weak to Electric.”
Butterfree tilted her head to the side, and Michael snorted. “You don’t even know what that means, do you? And come to think of it, I guess it wouldn’t matter to you. You’re on top of your own world now. You have everything those Caterpies could ever dream of.” He gave another pause, then an odd thought occurred to him. “I wonder if you even knew you’d evolve. I guess not; Caterpies live with Caterpies. Butterfrees lay the eggs, but then they just leave them. They gotta grow up and fend for themselves.” Here, he smiled wryly. “I guess we’re not so different then, are we?”
Butterfree murmured something in reply, though he couldn’t make sense of her deep-throated buzzing. He bent his head back and looked at the dimming sky, pretending she had said something deep and profound.
At that point, Butterfree fluttered off his lap and settled into the grass nearby, lying on her stomach with her wings spread out at her sides. After a few uneventful moments, Michael looked back at the kids again. They were now squatted in a tight circle, keeping perfectly still. They could have been five, or six.
They stayed in their places for a while without moving, and Michael was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with them, or if they were sharing some illicit secret. But right then, without warning, the kids jumped apart and began to run across the playground, like free-flying particles from a nuclear explosion. One boy lagged behind the rest, and from the way he turned on his toes and lunged after the others, Michael deduced it was a game of tag.
The boy tried chasing down two girls, who led him to the slide then split off in separate directions, leaving him torn between two paths. He turned around and began chasing down another boy, who cleverly dove into a jungle of monkeybars and somehow managed to crawl out from the top. He continued to run away, coming close to Michael’s vicinity without realizing it. The boy looked over his shoulder, and when he saw the chaser in pursuit, he quickly turned away, and looked down just in time to notice Butterfree lying on the ground. He gave a gasp and swerved to the side, coming inches from stepping on her wing.
Michael stood up. “Watch it!”
The kid looked at him, then ran away without saying a word. Butterfree lifted herself from the grass, dusting the blades from her body, and floated onto Michael’s shoulder.
The boy, meanwhile, had attached himself to a group of three, running for the merry-go-round. As the chaser closed in on them, they jumped on the ride and began to spin it. The chaser stood still for a few moments, evidently calculating the right moment to climb on, but just as he began to approach, all four kids jumped into the air. Three landed on their feet, but the brown-haired boy from earlier wasn’t so lucky — he landed on his hands and knees on the concrete, then rolled onto his side with a pained cry. His friends all skid to a stop, their excitement freezing as his sobs filled the yard.
Before any of the others could move towards him, the door to the Gym burst open, and Wattson came running out with the receptionist.
“Blast it! How many times do I have to tell you kids to be careful?”
Two of the boy’s friends helped him to his feet, and Wattson’s receptionist bent down to examine him. After muttering something to him in a soothing voice, she whisked the boy off to the Gym, and Wattson beckoned for the rest of the group to approach. He cast a glance at Michael, and shook his head in exasperation, as if this proved a point. Then he sighed. “Did you see what happened, by any chance?”
“They just started playing tag,” Michael said. “Then a bunch of them got on that thing and one of them fell off. It was an accident; no one pushed him or anything.”
The children looked from Wattson’s face to Michael’s, not saying a word.
Wattson appeared too scattered to doubt him. “All right. You kids, be careful. If I see any of you acting up again, I’ll call… well, I’ll make sure your parents know about it. Now get!”
He pointed to the street, and the kids dispersed, running off to wherever their homes were. Wattson turned back to the Gym, and Michael followed, Butterfree hanging on to her perch. When they returned to the lobby, he sat down in a chair, while Wattson disappeared into the hallway. Meanwhile, the boy with the scraped knee was being led into the office, now with some gauze bandaged over the wound. The attendant took him behind the counter and lifted a phone to her ear.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Wake,” the boy mumbled.
The lady asked him for a telephone number, and twirled the rotary to dial it. When the person on the other end picked up, she recounted what had happened, then gave the phone to Wake. When the boy had finished talking, he emerged from the hallway and sat down along the wall opposite Michael. After a moment of tapping his toes together, the kid looked up.
“Sorry I ‘most stepped on your Butterfree,” he said.
Michael shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. She’s not hurt.”
The boy did not respond, but sat with his arms crossed till his mother arrived. She pushed through the doors and took him down the hallway, where they met Wattson. Michael heard bits of their conversation:
“… I know, I know, it’s just that we live hardly a minute away and this is his favorite place to go. Yes, I understand. He really likes pokémon, too…”
“… but I have to emphasize that this isn’t a daycare center. We’re in the middle of the Gym season, so my staff and I won’t always be around to watch over your son. He’s perfectly welcome to spend time at the Gym, but he has to be careful around other trainers.”
The last thing Michael saw was the mother whisking the boy away by the hand, and the doors of the Gym closing behind them.
Minutes later, Bertha emerged from the hallway, looking delighted. Shella and Henry followed her, stopping as she turned to Wattson.
“Perfect! I just got off the phone with Kirk. He’s willing to back my petition. All I have to do is mail him a copy, and he’ll write the letter.”
Wattson inclined his head. ”Good, good.”
He and Bertha shook hands, and Michael got up to leave as they neared the exit. Seeing Butterfree, Bertha gave a surprised smile. “Hey, you didn’t tell me Caterpie evolved. She looks beautiful!”
Michael shrugged. “Yeah.” He took out Butterfree’s pokéball, and somewhat grudgingly sent her back.
In the meantime, Bertha waved Wattson goodbye. “Well, we better get going. Thanks for everything!” She led the way out of the Gym, and Michael followed after.
Once they were all outside, Bertha stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk and let the three teens assemble around her. “All right. You boys have two options now. One, we can all go somewhere and spend the rest of the evening in town. Two, you can go back to your hotel room and stay there, not going anywhere else. Your pick.”
Michael exchanged a glance with Henry. “Uh… hotel room?”
Henry nodded his agreement.
Bertha’s shoulders drooped. “Aw, you’re no fun at all. I was hoping you’d pick the city. I had such a neat museum in mind... But I guess there’s always tomorrow.”
Shella frowned. “And we won’t be able to leave the hotel for the rest of the day? Why is that?”
“Oh, that doesn’t apply to you. Don’t worry. You can go anywhere you want. These two just need to learn a lesson.”
Shella looked at the boys, and attempted a smile. “Well, okay.”
With that, they set off for the subway station. Michael trailed a few steps behind Bertha and Shella, but though Henry was at his side, for the first time he found himself at a loss for what to say. He cast the boy a glance, and found a similar trapped expression on his face. Michael gave an inward grumble as he looked back at the street. It was going to be a long week.
)
