Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Sharing ❯ Give the People What They Want ( Chapter 6 )

Sharing

 

Hitomi and Nozomi have a long talk, and come to a better understanding of each other and the rivalry that Nozomi has planned with Hikari. Nozomi is surprised to find letters and gifts from her family, including her favorite cousin Sebastian. Sebastian told Nozomi that he supports what she does no matter what.

 

NOTE: This chapter starts right where chapter five left off. The point of view switches from Hitomi to Hikari, followed by a brief third person point of view, and finally, we go back to Nozomi.

 

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokemon, a creation of one Satoshi Tajiri, and is produced domestically (in the United States) by Pokemon USA/TAJ/The Pokemon Company, and internationally by Shogakukan and OLM. I personally own nothing and make nothing by

writing this. Please do not flame.

 

(Chapter 6- Give The People What They Want)

 

As I prepared the marinade for the steaks that my daughter and I were going to eat in a few hours, it gave me some time to think. Some thoughts that were swimming through my head included; 'What in the world has gotten into Zoey?', 'Is my daughter fucking nuts?' and 'Why did she feel that she had to lie to me about something like this?

 

Did she think that I wasn't going to figure out exactly what she was up to?' To say that Zoey had given me a lot of stress when she was a young girl and given me a ton of anxiety now with this stipulation involving Hikari, was saying the very least.

 

But the fact is that for some convoluted and unknown reason, she has always had to be different, or not do what every other girl was doing. She is the girl that in a few years as a teenager would probably scream out to the world 'Fuck Tradition', but even at three or four years old, that's how she's always lived her life. Very few things are sacred to one Nozomi 'Zoey' Kobashi. No matter what, she has my support, though. She has always had my full support.

 

I can remember when she was about four years old, while all of the other girls her age were playing with their Barbie dolls and playing dress up wanting to look just like their mommies; Nozomi would be content just having a conversation with Makoto, talking about pokemon. They could do it for hours, and if it were not bedtime for their biweekly sleepovers, they could have probably done it for days on end.

 

The two of them were absolutely inseparable. They had other hobbies and interests aside from pokemon, as well. Instead of playing with dolls, she was a part of the T-ball team, along with 'Mako' as she would often times call her only real friend. She was given her team's most valuable player award when she was the only girl that was a part of the squad. Makoto was a very happy child who always seemed to be full of life.

 

Then... there was that day that Makoto's parents noticed that Makoto was just plain listless most times. There were days that him and Zoey could play for hours on end and not feel tired, but right before his fifth birthday, things began to take a turn for the worst. They would rough house at times, and I noticed that while rolling in grass, Makoto would get bloodied up easier than before and suffer numerous bruises because of it. We would later find out that Mako was going through symptoms of leukemia, or cancer of the blood.

 

It was so sad, because Zoey insisted that we see him as often as we could. She told me that if he knew that he could beat this disease and he had the support of good friends like her, then he'd be playing in the park in no time. She had so much confidence that he would pull through, and... There were days that I couldn't muster up the courage to see him because I could tell that day after day, Makoto was getting worse and not better. I saw a young child dying before my eyes, and I tried to tell my daughter that things were not looking good, but Zoey didn't want to hear a word about it.

 

The day that Mako passed away was a day I won't soon forget, even if I live to be 120 years old. Zoey was going to her semiannual doctor's appointment, and wasn't able to see Makoto. She told him this the day before, and from what Zoey told me, Makoto understood. Then we came home, and got an unexpected visit from Makoto's parents, who said that my husband and I should wake up Zoey. After we got settled in, they told us the tragic news that while Zoey was getting her checkup, Makoto had passed away. They came late to our house as they informed the whole of their family of the sad news while at the hospital.

 

We all cried that night, but nobody cried as hard as Zoey. Perhaps it was the fact that she felt some level of guilt for not being there for her best friend in his final hours, but I can never be absolutely sure, because Zoey never opened up and told me exactly how she felt about his death. I didn't push and surprisingly, neither did my husband. We felt that being the child that she was, Zoey would bounce back from this tragedy, and to some extent she did.

 

Makoto's death occurred around the start of that summer, and because of it, they were obviously not able to attend kindergarten together. I remember it; because it was the last time that Zoey voluntarily wore a dress to any function was to Makoto's funeral. Zoey only told me that she was doing this because in her words `I'd do anything for Makoto,' and this was certainly the last thing that I would expect, and something he rarely, if ever, got to see. But to be honest, even on the day in which family and friends were to pay their final respects to Makoto, I know that he would have wanted Zoey to come as she was.

 

Not long after that, I truly began to see the maturity in Zoey start to blossom. It was like the death of her good friend exposed her to the harsh reality of this life, and whenever you would see her, she would often keep to herself, especially in the immediate months after Makoto's death. While other children would misbehave in public, Zoey was always polite and cordial. I talked it over with my husband and we both decided that from the day after her friend's death to the day she dies, she can wear whatever she wants.

 

`As she was' usually would mean in a collared shirt, a tie and khakis, which was actually the first outfit that she wore on the first day of kindergarten. But as I've seen on the television in recent years, she can really dress with a high amount of class and pride. I've often spent many minutes on the phone with her talking about her appeal, and how she looked classier than many of the boys in their tuxedos. Zoey would just laugh and say `that's the idea, mom'. Though I've admired her `classiness' and her meticulous wardrobe over the years, there have been many people that did not look at Zoey as fondly as my husband and I did.

 

All of the other parents would give me or my late husband these weird looks, and it didn't take much thinking to know what was on their minds. They were wondering why in the world would I allow her to dress the way she dressed, act how she acted and not say or do anything to try and change her. If any of them had had the gonads to come up to me and ask either me or my husband these things, I would have been more than happy to give them an answer. That answer would have been that my daughter is happy the way she is with the clothes she wears and the company she keeps, and so long as she is happy, nothing will change that. Truth be told, I've always felt a great deal of concern about her behavior over the years.

 

In the back of my mind, I've always wondered with her boyish clothes, her short hair, and never doing anything that would be considered outright girlish, that my daughter could be... no, no, no. She's too young to think about things like that, is she? But then again, there have been many gays and lesbians who claim that they knew long before Zoey's age. Listen to me. I'm like Chicken Little, worrying about my daughter's sexual orientation much like he was worried that the sky was gonna fall. Why do that?

 

She's never shown any interest in any girls... then again, she's never shown any interest in boys for that matter. Personally, I could care less if she shows any interest in the same sex. I wouldn't consider it a disgrace to the family, because it has very little to do with what the family wants for her compared to what Zoey wants for her. Like I told Zoey, so long as she is happy and she is not hurting anyone including herself, then I am happy. I can only hope that my message got through to her.

 

I take off my glasses and wipe the sweat from my brow. I'll admit that thinking about what the future holds for my only child makes me nervous, because even at a young age, Zoey has always been an unpredictable individual. I don't think that I need any added stress, but it's something that cannot be avoided in the future. I leave the kitchen and turn on the television, just to see if I can find something to alleviate my somewhat melancholy thoughts.

 

I notice that my daughter had left the television on a live pokemon contest. Normally, I would turn to see what else would be on and check back as I'm a fan myself. I just am not able to watch as many events as the transition in my occupation takes up much of what little free time I have. I relax as the announcers give the buildup and back story to this particular match. Though they have built the two competitors up well something, or rather someone that is not a part of the immediate fray has caught my attention-- my only daughter.

 

She is obviously not a part of this contest, as it is in Floaroma Town, but her name was mentioned about two or three times in the space of thirty seconds or so by the announcers covering the event. The announcers claim that this match, which is the finals of the Floaroma Town contest, would be the one to see who would get first dibs at Zoey, as she defeated both coordinators en route to two contest ribbons.

 

I turn up the volume in an attempt to get the names of the coordinators involved, which by the pictures on the screen I can at least tell that one is a boy and the other is a girl. After what initially appeared to be an exercise in futility, as apparently all the announcers wanted to talk about was Zoey, I find out that the name of the boy is Kengo, and the name of the girl is...

 

"Hikari? Zoey's Hikari?" I inquire.

 

There she was in all of her apparent glory was Hikari on my television. The girl that my daughter has attempted to hook like a salmon into her trap of a fake rivalry to in her mind help her succeed in coordinating and eventually get to know better as time goes on. Don't ask me to explain how the hell she's gonna do that because that could take a while. Looking at her, I doubt that she would even have it inside of her to hurt a common housefly, much less my daughter, who claims that she punched her causing a mild concussion the day after her 'Pokemon Talk' interview.

 

It's funny. I turned on the TV in an effort to keep me from having to continuously question my daughter's odd behavior and get me back into the holiday mood, but the fact that I turned it on and I saw this pokemon contest with her supposed new rival made things even worse in my mind. I have even more questions now that I have actually seen the girl. Why is she in the finals of this contest if she allegedly needed so much help and coaching? Just what is my daughter's motive for taking part in all of this risky business? I mean, this girl Hikari only has to win this match and Zoey will have lost her stipulation.

 

I think I'm getting a headache as my brain is being racked just thinking about what strange and tangled web Zoey has woven for herself. My daughter has put me through hell many times before, but I vowed that after my husband died, that I would never ever give up on her, but this plan of hers in my opinion is bordering between the nations of ridiculousness and insanity. I put my head down and look away from the television screen while the battle is already in progress and cup my cheeks with my hands. It is here that I get a first look at the hair that comes down in front of my eyes and I am somewhat shocked to the point of light chuckling to find the color gray in the place of many strands of a mostly red hairdo.

 

Though I'll never admit to being old, I am 46 years old, and some will argue that in my mission to become a career woman, I was late in my primal and natural mission of having a family and raising children. I gave birth to Zoey when I was 35 years old. Although Zoey is the only child that I've ever raised, her life stories and trials are equivalent to that of ten children her own age. Even though things are better for her than they've been in past years, I would not wish her life on anyone else. I say that she has put me through hell over the years, but that's only because she's been through so much hell herself.

 

I am jolted from my pain when I hear a buzzer. I assume that it is from the oven, so I quickly get up from the couch and check whatever may be cooking. It is not the oven, which I find out when I realize that the oven or its alarm was not turned on when I first left the kitchen after Nozomi went to visit Doctor Yun. I head back into the living room and find the source of the buzzer.

 

"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen," the pokemon contest public address announcer speaks. "As a result of Kengo's Prinplup being unable to continue, victory in the Floaroma Town pokemon contest goes to Hikari of Twinleaf Town! And by virtue of her victory this afternoon, she not only wins her very first contest ribbon, she also wins the much publicized stipulation between her and coordinator Nozomi, meaning that Nozomi must-- she MUST participate in all of her contests and appeals for the first four months of the year 2007 wearing dresses! And if any coordinating fans have seen Nozomi in action, you know that this will certainly be a change of note for this young lady."

 

It takes a moment to sink in just what this all means. When I take it all in, I can't help but laugh. I turn off the TV because there is no more need for me to see another second. Zoey has lost her stipulation and must now pay for it. I laugh because once again, I know that there was no need for it, and it turned out to be a situation where Zoey made her own bed, and now she must sleep in it.

 

"She's gonna be so pissed when she finds out." Knowing my daughter, she will show her humility in the presence of an audience, but vent her frustrations, as many as there may be, in privacy. She will scream out in anger, cry very loudly, or throw things, but once she's finished, you know she has let all of her choler out in some form or fashion.

 

One thing I know she won't do is say 'no' to everything that she has done. That's just not the kind of person Zoey is, and doesn't speak to how she has lived her eventful existence. Any lesser child would have thrown in the towel after the death of their best friend, or a severe and potentially fatal injury, or the death of the only father (figure) that you've ever cared to know. Anyone of these incidences should have broken Zoey, but she's still standing tall and proud.

 

My laugh is halted by a key turning in the lock of the front door. Zoey has come back from her appointment with Doctor Yun.

 

"Hey mom. I'm back." Zoey comes to my direction with a neutral expression on her face. Though I can't tell how she is feeling at the moment, she sees that I have an uneasy smile on my face. "Did something happen while I was out, Mom? Is something wrong?" I look right into her face and slowly shake my head. I didn't want to delay any further what happened while she was out.

 

I refused to beat around the bush with this important issue to my daughter. "Zoey? I'm sorry to say this, but... you lost."

 

She looks confused, and rightfully so. After all, I was quite vague with what I said. "I... lost? What do you mean I lost? What are you talking about, mom? You aren't making any sense."

 

I say no words to her. I, along with the live audience at Floaroma Town and however many people were watching at home were just minutes removed from finding out that Hikari had won the contest over Kengo. All I did to explain why Zoey 'lost' was turn on the television. Sure enough, Zoey and I saw Hikari being presented with the Floaroma Town contest ribbon by all the various dignitaries. Taking a chance glance at my daughter, I see that her face resembles a wide open book; her eyes, her mouth, even her nostrils are wide open in what I presume to be a pure stupor. Her arms dropped to her side as she watched her rival reign victorious in Floaroma Town.

 

Zoey sniffles through her nose for a moment and then slowly wipes the sweat away from her brow. The living room is silent, with the exception of the television, but I can hear my daughter breathing very heavily upon hearing this news. I don't think it has sunk in yet, because she is performing actions that suggest doubt, such as shaking her head, covering her mouth with her hand, and bowing her head in shame. She looks like she could cry at any moment. It would be sad if it wasn't so damn pathetic.

 

"You lost, Zoey." I punctuate. She exhales two times while her head was still down upon hearing those two words.

 

"Could I be excused, mom?" she asks quieter than a church mouse.

 

"Yes, dear." I see Zoey take about one footstep every second and a half or so as she walks to her room. The door to her bedroom is slightly ajar, and she walks to it as if she were on her way to death row for her execution. I am positioned inside of the family room of the house in a spot where I can see her fully open the doorway to her room. Less than three seconds later, she closes the door. The television is still on, and remained on since a few minutes ago when I told Zoey that she lost. I took a minute or so to listen to the interview that she gives to the press after the winner's ceremony. Hikari talked about how she is happy to have won the stipulation and not have her head shaved. She also uses this opportunity to let Zoey know that even though she has won the deal they made, she is not done with Zoey, and she will take this as far as she wants it to go. She puts an exclamation point on her statement saying that...

 

"SON OF A BITCH!!! DAMN IT!" I couldn't hear exactly what Hikari said, because my daughter was in her nearby room screaming out in anger her many frustrations through the use of obscenities. All of this stress that she was going through in my mind was very unnecessary; as I believe once again that she brought much of it upon her own shoulders. Zoey should have recognized the risk and known that this could have happened. This recitation of screaming and vulgarity lasts about thirty seconds until Nozomi walks once again the same way she did when she entered her room some minutes ago. Her head is down, but she brings it back up once she ceases walking and turns her head off to the side for only a moment. I can't tell if she has been crying or not, but I know for a fact that she is upset. Whether it is at herself for formulating this wager, or for whatever reason, there is no other way to put how she feels right now other than to say she is mad.

 

I say nothing for fear of her snapping at me in disgust. I wait for her to open her mouth and say something-- anything at all to neutralize the toxic environment. Seeing that Hikari's image is still on the television screen, I reach for the remote and turn it off. Nozomi immediately glances at the box and then towards me.

 

"Is dinner ready, mom?" she asks. I am granted my wish as my daughter speaks.

 

"It will be a few minutes, dear. Care to sit down?" I ask feeling her pain and wanting in anyway possible to help her cope. From her lips, I get a nonchalant response of 'Sure' and she sits down on a chair away from the TV screen, even though it is no longer on. Nozomi doesn't even appear to be all there. It's almost as if she got the worst news in the world.

 

Some minutes pass, and we do indeed sit down for dinner at about 3:15 p.m. Before we stuff ourselves silly, I suggest to Nozomi that like every Thanksgiving before, we say some things that we are thankful for. I tell her that I want to start.

 

"Well, Zoey. I am thankful that we are able to be here together in the midst of my job transition and your pokemon journey. I suppose that finding out about the wager you made with Hikari was a blessing in disguise because... it brought us together when I didn't think we'd get to share this important moment. This may not seem like much to you now, but when you get older, get married and have a family of your own, you'll really cherish the little things. The ones you had with the family you have now, and the ones you'll have with your family later. That's what I'm thankful for. Zoey?"

 

It takes a minute of uneasy smiles, turning her glance away from mine and exhale after exhale, but she finally comes around and says her peace. "Mom, I'm thankful just to be here today sharing Thanksgiving dinner with you. And, even with the situation that involved Makoto, I might have... hidden in a shell for a while, but I want you to know that in no way did I... he would have wanted me to go out there and work for my dreams, with or without him, and to an extent, I've accomplished most of them. And I'm very thankful for that. Even when dad died... that was..." My daughter looks like she could break down any second. She is shaking, and I want to hold her, but I don't want to jump the gun and trigger any unneeded emotional strife on what is supposed to be a joyous occasion. "That was a very conflicting time for me. Weeks on end I spent in hospital beds or rehabilitation centers, and knowing that dad would not be coming home from work to visit you ever again because you had to have him there that night." Zoey then whispers to my shock, “You just had to be a selfish little… bitch.”

 

God almighty. She still blames herself. "Zoey? Sweetheart? If we've been over this once, we've been over this a thousand times; what happened to dad wasn't..."

 

"Mom?" my daughter bitingly interjects. "Can we not talk about that, please? Can't we just eat?" I don't want to have any arguments and drive Nozomi or myself over the edge, so I say the only thing I can think of saying.

 

"Okay, dear. We can eat." Those were the last words said for a good while until the food did its job by calming nerves and pleasing palettes. After Nozomi said her 'thank you's' she left to go back to her room to do who knows what. To say the least, this has been an eventful Thanksgiving, and although the day is far from over, I bet Nozomi wishes it was. Maybe a nice long rest will both do us a world of good.

 

In retrospect, it all seemed like a blur. Going into the contest, I was reintroduced to Kengo, who was a friend of mine from early childhood. Though he began the day much like he would begin most school days with his playful teasing, it became quite apparent to he and I that today would not be about taking a stroll down memory lane. We both had business to attend to, and we would not let even a good friendship hinder either of our efforts.

 

For whatever reasons aside from the obvious one of wanting to win a contest ribbon and getting one step closer to the Grand Festival, I did not know why Kengo came to this contest of all other contests. Ask 99 of 100 people that came to Floaroma Town's contest, and they likewise could not tell you why Kengo was here. But if you asked those same 100 people why Hikari Kamiko was there, I would be willing to bet the farm that just about all of them could tell you why. They knew that I wanted-- no. I needed to win a contest ribbon within the next five weeks, or I would be forced by order of a written contract that Nozomi and I signed at the start of November to have my head completely shaved bald.

 

To the casual observer, I was at a distinct disadvantage in the finals of the contest, as I had Piplup going up against its next evolutionary stage in the form of Kengo's Prinplup. But Piplup obviously had a ton of heart and a great deal of might to come out of the contest victorious. Although Nozomi has made a spectacle, and some would argue a joke of my coordinating exploits by making this challenge, in a sick and twisted way, I feel I should be thanking her.

 

If not for her 'words of encouragement' I don't know if I would've won this ribbon when I did, because the challenge forced me, Pipulp, Pachirisu, and Buneary to get up off our collective asses and work for it. And believe you me, this one is earned. I'm now in the interview room giving comments to the media about my recent victory. After about 5-7 minutes of the third degree, one reporter has an ending inquiry.

 

"Are there any final remarks that you would like to make concerning your first contest victory here this afternoon, Hikari?"

 

For a second, I ponder this most insightful of inquiries. How could I possibly put into words the hell that this girl has put me through? Though the road was a very rocky one filled with questions, innuendoes, violence and family difficulties, today I was able to find a way-- some way to escape it all, and come out of it the better coordinator, and perhaps most important, a better person.

 

All of this success came about in spite of the vocal goading Nozomi gave me while laying somewhat incapacitated in a hospital bed. So when you ask how I can put into words my feelings at this moment, I will tell you to bring a tape recorder and several blank tapes, as my thoughts are long and winding, but that the most important point to make concerns the end result. I came out of this fiasco the victor and that's all that matters to me right now. As for when I leave Floaroma Town and as far as future contests are concerned...

 

"Everyone remembers about four weeks or so ago, I was on the steps of Twinleaf Town's City Hall building. I told the many members of the media that I was more than willing to go as far as needed and an hour more with a person who I considered to be my rival, Nozomi Kobashi. I want everyone here and those watching at home to know that that has not changed. It will not stop until her opinion of me as not simply a coordinator, but as a human being changes for the better.”

 

“To put an exclamation point on my answer, if that means risking people not favoring me because I didn't stand in line and take this verbal berating, then so be it. If I lose friends because of this, again, so be it. That fact is I am quite possibly the most stubborn individual you'll probably ever meet, and once I set my mind to a plan or project, be careful. That's all I have to say. Thank you all and Happy Thanksgiving." I leave the interview room, turning my glance away from the many popping flashbulbs and exit to my attending entourage of traveling companions.

 

Satoshi is exceedingly proud of me, as is Takeshi. He told me of a similar experience that occurred very early in his training career where he was in the Kanto region and faced the Vermilion gym leader Lieutenant Surge and his Raichu. He, along with his Pikachu were in an academic handicap, much like my Piplup against Kengo's Prinplup, but he was able to prevail when he learned some 'speedy' advice. He is very proud of me, and hopes that if the mere fact that I won a ribbon doesn't humble Nozomi, then the four months of having to wear dresses will.

 

As I excuse myself from both Takeshi and Satoshi, I think to myself that based on what behavior I've seen and heard from her in public and private moments, Nozomi is most confident and most arrogant when she is in control of situations. But when someone like me steps up and takes control and asserts themselves, she is brought back down to earth. Her attitude can be best described as a string of peaks and valleys. She may be humbled by having to wear dresses, but once that ends, I can't help but ask myself 'then what'?

 

I've given enough thought to Nozomi to the point that now I am at my preplanned destination-- a pay phone. I have one dollar in change in my pocket, which is enough to make exactly two phone calls. It's just enough for me. Dialing the proper calling codes, I finally hear a ring after one minute or so. After the first ring, I hear a voice.

 

"Kamiko residence. Ayako speaking." It's mom.

 

"Mom? It's me, Hikari."

 

"Hikari! How are you doing? Congratulations!" Mom sounds overjoyed knowing that my most difficult step towards the Grand Festival has been made.

 

"I'm fine, mom, and thank you for your support these last three weeks." My mother, fully realizing what type of person I am knew that I would not drop this issue. So one day, while Satoshi was at a pokemon center, mom called and gave me some training advice along with an exercise and nutrition regimen for my pokemon. I thanked her for the advice, but I asked her not to tell anyone that I was being given advice. I also asked her to no longer provide me with advice, even though it was greatly appreciated. If I was going to continue on my path, I wanted to do it on my own. She agreed.

 

"Honey, I'm proud of you. I hope that we don't have to go down this road again."

 

"Mom? A part of me hopes the same thing, but I'm a realist, mom. If Nozomi is gonna go, she won't go quietly. I have to go, mom. Satoshi is calling me to go to dinner." That was a lie. I actually wanted to call the next person that I intended to call when finding this payphone, but mom couldn't know that.

 

"Okay, dear. Good luck to you. Again, I'm very proud of you. This is a very big step."

 

"Thanks mom. I know. Good-bye."

 

"Bye mom." I hang up the phone and wait a minute as I pull out a black leather change purse and open the zipper on top. Inside is about four or five dollars of loose change and a strip of white paper with some numbers in blue written on both sides. I look around to see if there is anyone nearby that could use this to my disadvantage. I can't let a single soul, especially my mother know that I have this number. I make the phone call and after four or five rings, I get a response.

 

"Hello?" I'm surprised to hear the voice of a female speak. I deeply exhale and speak to this mystery woman.

 

"I'm sorry. Is Huro Akiyama available?"

 

"May I ask who is calling, please?" I really don't want to tell anyone other than Akiyama that I am calling his house, but if I want to talk to him, I must let this stranger know exactly who I am.

 

"Tell him that... Dawn Kamiko is calling."

 

"Okay. One second, Dawn." After about ten seconds, I hear someone inhale into the receiver.

 

"Hikari?" the man on the other end of the line says. "Dad?" I ask. "How are you doing, dad?" For those that didn't already know, I am talking with Huro Akiyama; my 27-year-old estranged father. If my mother knew that I was talking to him, I hesitate to imagine what she would do to not only him, but to me. My father has explained many of the details to me ever since I accidentally stumbled upon his number one day about three years ago.

 

He and mom had went through a very nasty divorce, and because dad was significantly younger than mom and had much less money or resources to provide for me, she was granted by the courts full custody of me, and my father wasn't even allowed to have visits, chaperoned or not.

 

Dad claims that mom was able to have her lawyers paint a picture of a much older woman being seduced by the boyish charms of a younger man. A lot of it I initially found hard to believe, but I accepted it, because my mother is quite well off, and she hates my father with a passion, and is not afraid to show it. I wanted to ask him many times what occurred between the two of them to cause this great dissension, but I didn't want to pry.

 

I was just happy that I was able to secure this contact with him. My mother has always squashed any conversation that had to do with when dad was gonna come back home and see me. The Christmases, New Year's and birthdays came and went, and dad never was there, but that was not by choice. It didn't matter to me, though, because just hearing his voice, and him knowing that I was okay and knowing that he was okay was enough for me.

 

"Who was that lady, dad?" I was curious, but not hanging by a thread wanting to know who she was. I was just curious.

 

"That... that was my girlfriend of about three months. Her name is Paisley." I couldn't judge Paisley on a 15 second phone conversation that I had in an attempt to speak to my father, so I simply tell dad "S'no problem." I knew that despite the problems between him and mom, whatever they may have been, dad still has to live his life.

 

"Really? That's alright with you... Dawnie?" God! I hate that nickname. Dad used to tease me so much with his exaggeration on my given nickname of Dawn. He gave it to me because oddly enough, I was born right at the crack of dawn. "Daddy! You know I don't like that! Seriously, will I ever grow up in your eyes?"

 

"There's my girl." He laughs the most infectious laugh you will ever hear in your life. "And you'll always be my Baby Dawn to me, Hikari. Any reason in particular why you called?"

 

"Well, to say hello, and to tell you... I won my first contest ribbon!" I was quite excited to tell him the news. Dad knew everything that had happened to me with Nozomi, and he was a very good listener as far as me needing someone to let out all of my thoughts and frustrations without the judging, constant questions and dirty looks that my mother is famous for.

 

"Woah! You did?" "Uh huh." I said with vigor.

 

"Great job, Dawnie. I knew you could do it! Show that Kobashi punk who's boss, girl! No one gets away with badmouthing my daughter!" My dad. He's always been a stickler for good competition. Instead of criticizing me for going out and having a rivalry with Nozomi like my mother did, he gave me sound and sage advice.

 

Not just advice involving pokemon, but advice on how to deal with people like Nozomi not just in pokemon coordinating, but in life as well. Even though all I have of him are some pictures that my mother does not know about and this phone number, he's still a father to me, as much as I know that that would make my mother angrier than Cain. Because of the legal situation that my father is in, he legally cannot talk to me or see me until I turn 16.

 

He says that the only way that this can be circumvented so that the lines of communication are not cut, is for me to call him, but only on payphones or videophones when no one else is present. I promised him that, because if I did not and he was to get caught, or if someone could provide evidence that I was speaking to him, he would go to jail. He also said, 'unfortunately, visits to see me are out of the question.

 

`Law enforcement is in my area much of the time, and they can find me guilty of violation of a legal court order if they ever knew I was within 25 meters of you, or talking to you right now.' I agreed, because even though seeing dad is something that I brim in anticipation of doing, hearing his voice brought me the most comfort of all. More than I can say for my mother, who has wanted me to favor her more and not my father, the same person from which one of my most glaring traits comes from; my stubbornness. And that's more or less the reason why I am in a feud with the redhead.

 

My dad and I talk for about five more minutes about everything from his new girlfriend to my next contest until I hang up and go back to Satoshi and Takeshi as we continue on our tandem journeys.

 

<January 4, 2007>

 

The telecast to the Veilstone City pokemon contest is now on. The pokemon contest intro rolls, and does a wave effect, ending with a panoramic view of the house for this first contest in the year 2007 for Veilstone City. The viewers at home can see that the contest house is completely full, with standing room only, as everyone there has arrived for two reasons; reason number one is to see the top coordinators in the Sinnoh region battle it out for supremacy and the Veilstone City contest ribbon, and reason number two... well, the color commentary team will let you know of that.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, to get an idea of the atmosphere that's surrounding this pokemon contest, you will have to go all the way back to that fateful day on Thursday October 19, 2006, when renegade rookie coordinator Nozomi Kobashi made very deep and disparaging remarks concerning Hikari Kamiko on worldwide airwaves. Sometime between then and the official statement given by Miss Kamiko just five days later, the two girls made a wager of sorts. Nozomi challenged Hikari to win her very first contest ribbon before the end of 2006. If Hikari failed to win the ribbon, she would be forced to have her head shaved in public. If Hikari won the contest ribbon, Nozomi agreed to wear dresses to all of her contests for the next four months."

 

"Folks it was on Thanksgiving day that the world and Nozomi were shocked to learn that Hikari defeated an old friend named Kengo to win the Floaroma Town contest ribbon, and by virtue of that win, Nozomi loses her own challenge, and the first of many big payoffs to that challenge begins tonight here in prime time, as both Hikari and Nozomi are booked to compete here in tonight's pokemon contest."

 

"You're bullshitting me, right?"

 

I looked at Hikari as if she had told me that I have AIDS. She held up the dress that I was to wear for tonight's pokemon contest by order of a written contractual agreement. I already know that it fits, because she hired someone to get my measurements prior to me booking myself to appear at Veilstone City. The problem I have with it, which is causing me to question Hikari's sanity is that this dress is made with my least favorite color; yellow. What's worse is that it is a very light pastel yellow and just like Hikari told me, it is loaded with bright white frills on every edge and trimmed section of the attire. She must have been a sadist in a past life. It's the kind of dress that my mother fought long and hard for me to wear when I was younger to fall in line with the idea and image of being 'lady like'.

 

"No I'm not" she says as a retort. "And I'd suggest you quit dilly dallying around and get this on. After all, there are a lot of people out there just waiting to see you." She ends her sentence in a sing-songy matter and it causes me to cringe.

 

"And if I don't go out there and wear this... large banana peel that you call a dress, what happens then, huh?" She goes up to me and whispers in my ear, saying "If you don't wear this, I'll sue your ass. Not only do we have a handshake agreement, we have a legal document that says the same. So what's it gonna be, hoyden?"

 

Unlike my mother, there is no way out of this without me having to resort to legal action. A path I just don't wanna take right now. I look Hikari right in the eyes. In some respects, she has gotten me where it hurts, but I am nowhere near a broken individual because of one loss. Hikari my have won this battle, but we still have a long war left to be fought.

 

"Get out." I tell her. "Huh? What do you mean?" she asked.

 

I scoff when she doesn't understand what I'm trying to tell her. To drive my point home, I point to the exit door of the dressing room. "Get out of the dressing room so that I can change! Jesus! What are you, some kind of pervert?" This was yet another attempt by me to draw Hikari's ire and get her angry, as if I haven't already succeeded in doing that in the past. What did you expect? I'm persistent.

 

She holds her hands and arms high into the air in what I presume is a sign of defense. "Quit your bitching, Nozomi. I'll leave." She does just that after about five seconds. I am now left alone to ponder the object of scorn that hangs directly in front of me. I decide that it is better not to face this plight on my own. After all, misery loves company, and I'm pretty sick and damn miserable having to do something I just don't wanna do.

 

"Glameow" I command, "Curtain!" and in a flash of light, my most reliable of pokemon comes out, saying `nya', or meow, and licking her left paw. "Always a primadonna, Glameow." I tell her with a cunning smile. She purrs in response to my sarcasm. She is still tending to her paw like she was a French manicurist.

 

"Will you leave your appendage alone for a second and take a look at this monstrosity?" I point Glameow to the dress and as soon as she gets a very good look at it, she hisses something awful and cries out with a screech that could wake bears in hibernation. I tend to agree with her in this case. "Well, Glamie," which is my short form for Glameow, "believe it or not, I'm going to wear this to tonight's contest. I didn't want you, Misdreavus or the others to worry about me or be surprised when you came out and saw me in... That." To this, Glameow brings her head down, covers her eyes with her recently cleaned left paw, shakes her head, and screeches a loud 'meow'. I see this.

 

"Hey, hey, hey!" I scold. "Don't rub it in!" almost as if she could understand me word for word, Glameow takes her right paw and points it downward. Like all other domestic cats, she does not have opposable thumbs, but right now, I suppose that she is giving this dress a 'paws down'.

 

"Look, Glamie. It's not by choice." I say, in an attempt to defend myself. "I... let's just say that I underestimated our competition and my mouth ended up getting me in this trouble. But I promise you and my whole team this, Glamie. We set a goal together that we would work harder than any other coordinator/pokemon combination to become the best in all the world and I assure you that in the coming months, we will not be wavering from our objective. I may have to wear outfits like these for the next..." I whisper 'four months' as it has still not sunk in that the results went in this direction. “But we'll still work to be the best. You and I. How's that sound?” Glameow then jumps into my arms, and gently digs her head into my chest. I love my Glameow, and this time we spend together is time I value over most other things.

 

"Let's get this over with. Glamie? Return." I put Glameow back into her pokeball and proceed to begin changing into the flower girl dress. I begin by removing my dark brown boots and purple socks. I turn away for a moment, as I see the multiple surgical incision marks on my right foot and ankle, due to surgeries required to repair my leg three years ago. I will have these scars for the rest of my life, and they are a reminder of what stupidity, carelessness and arrogance can cost someone, and it doesn't just have to do with the leg. I swear I'll never go out of my way to impress anyone ever again. That's how I got these marks.

 

My next step to shedding down to my skin involved taking off my orange vest. My clothing was becoming very piled up, so I opened one of the lockers available and placed my boots, socks, and vest into the locker. The next step was removing a treasured necklace that I've had ever since my eighth birthday. It was a gift from my mother, Hitomi. It is actually a locket that holds pictures of two people I care for greatly. One picture has my childhood friend Makoto and another picture has my father, Keiichi. My mother said that if you ever feel the need to see them as you want to remember them, then open the locket. I hang the priceless keepsake on one of the locker hooks and continue with undressing.

 

After about a minute or two, I am standing alone in this private locker room not naked as the day I was born, but with the undergarments I came with covering the so-called private areas. I have on all black in a sports bra, and boxer briefs, which are also black. Traveling alone through forests, cities, and towns throughout the Sinnoh region, I don't often get the opportunity to shower, much less get a look at myself in the mirror.

 

Seeing myself for the first time in many weeks, I start to see exactly what Doctor Yun talked about on our Thanksgiving Day appointment and what mom has been saying since just before I started my journey nine months ago. My body is going through some serious changes, and they're happening at a near rapid fire rate. My body is no longer comparable to a Popsicle stick, unless of course it is a Popsicle stick with curves.

 

Because that is what I see when I look at the full body mirror in front of me are curves that I didn't care to notice the last time I was in front of a mirror. My figure appears to be forming more of an hourglass shape, and more curves become prevalent as I further scan my body. I can no longer run my hand from my upper chest down to my stomach without encountering a bump in the road. That curve is met head on as I run my hand through my breasts. They are still small, but they are noticeably larger than the last time I took a long glance in a shower some time ago.

 

Ending my narcissistic self-rant, I turn my attention to the dress hung up in the locker room. Truth be told, it is not a bad looking dress. I just called it a banana peel to piss Hikari off. I take off the clear plastic that holds the outfit, and then proceed to remove the outfit from its hanger. In one swift motion, I bring the dress up over my head and bring it down to my waist. The dress comes down to my lower ankles, which I count as fortunate, as nobody will be able to see my scars and ask questions.

 

Making final adjustments for the waist of the yellow garment, I turn back to the direction of the mirror with my eyes closed. I do not believe that I would be ready for the immediate shock of seeing myself in something that I haven't worn since I was five years old. Now it is an exercise in mental preparation as I slowly open my eyes and take a look at myself in the mirror before going out and competing. I completely see myself.

 

Whoever is wearing this dress, it is not me. The person wearing this dress is not comfortable, and looks downright gawky. Maybe I wasn't that far off in comparing this dress to a banana. The white frills of lace resemble either vanilla ice cream or whipped cream, my hair looks like a very large strawberry, and just out of curiosity of the way I looked so far, I put on my spare pair of shoes, which are chocolate colored penny loafers, and I can't help but laugh, but I needed it.

 

What is staring back at me appears to be a four foot, ten inch tall, 90 pound banana split. Clearly, my hair does not go with this dress, but I have no choice, as Hikari has specifically picked every dress that I am to wear the next four months. I think that a better use of these dresses, because I will obviously never wear them again, would be to publicly burn each and every one.

 

"Hmmmm. I wonder..." The more I consider that my objective is to make the rivalry between me and Hikari as heated as possible, I start to ponder what would be a way to make Hikari very mad and throw her many dresses into the mix.

 

My thoughts are broken when I hear an impatient knock on the dressing room door. "Are you alive in there, or what Nozomi?" The equally impatient voice of Hikari yells out from the other end of the dressing room. I respond in kind by saying that the dress is on, and I'm ready. She opens the dressing room door, and comes in, not saying hello or giving any sort of greeting for that matter.

 

She's ogling at me as if I were a miniature Schnauzer in a 'Best in Show' competition, viewing every single square inch of material and every area of my body as a means of finding anything that might be out of place. Here's to hoping that Hikari is nowhere near as staunch a critic of neatness as my father was.

 

Hikari takes a look at my legs, and as soon as she saw my feet in the penny loafers, she went ballistic.

 

"Oh my God! What the hell are you doing with those things on your feet?" She appears to be insulted by my penny loafers. So much so that she screamed in my face. She is now proceeding to take off my loafers. "Are you just trying to be a fucking jackass about this whole situation? Remember this; I won, you lost, Nozomi, and that means that you play by MY rules, which means you wear my whole outfit that I had planned for you, no questions asked."

 

I'm confused. I thought I was already wearing the whole outfit, and all of a sudden, she tells me 'But wait! There's more'? "Hang on a second. One, you've got a problem with my penny loafers, then that's fine, but there's no reason for you to make a scene, and two; there's more to this outfit? I thought I was only subject to a dress!"

 

"Of course there's more to the outfit. Actually, I should be thanking you, Nozomi, because had I not left the dressing room, I wouldn't have met up with Satoshi in order to find the finishing touch to your dress." Hikari proceeds to pull out of a plastic bag a pair of yellow and white dress shoes. I cringe, thinking 'I've got to put these things on as well'? "And before you ask, yes Nozomi, these are your size as well. Put them on now, so that I can see if you look presentable for tonight. You're not only representing yourself, you're representing me here tonight."

 

I shake my head at her dressing lecture. I then snatch the shoes from her hands while saying 'Give me those'. I put the shoes on, which have no laces and are made of some sort of faux leather. They sort of resemble closed-toed croc-styled shoes, and much like the dress, they are very good looking. Hikari, say what you want about her, has very good taste in clothing. After getting the right shoe on, I turn to Hikari and present myself to her as if I were a young supermodel. Initially, I remain quiet in her glance until I notice her bending with her knees down to my feet to examine my appearance. Catching this movement, I twirl myself around as if I were a ballerina. This is so she can't get a good look at my legs with the shoes presently attached.

 

“Stop doing that, Nozomi” she says like an aggravated schoolteacher. She tells me to stop multiple times.

 

I ask her in a very campy and haughty voice "Does my appearance make me look presentable to you, mommy dearest?" This teasing of sorts apparently warranted Hikari to stick her foot out near my rotating feet and cause me to fall flat on my face onto a concrete floor. The problem with this is that I landed on my nose, which was broken nearly three months ago by Hikari. It's still quite tender, and the fall was a painful one.

 

"OWWWW!" I wince in pain. I put my hands to my face and can feel a slight trickle of a warm, sticky substance on my nose and above my upper lip. I'm bleeding. How profusely? I've got to check the mirror. Hikari is standing over me at this time. "That's what you get for being a damn showoff, Nozomi. I clearly and specifically told you to stop doing that three times, and you failed to take my advice and, well... stop. And for your shortcomings as far as not being able to listen to instruction and do what I say the first time I say it, that's exactly what you deserve."

 

"Crap! I think I might have broken my nose again!" Is the only response I give to her 'following instructions' lecture. I don't turn my head up towards her direction, but instead attempt to take a quick glance at the mirror and give myself a prognosis of my current situation. There is a clear cut on the bridge of my nose, which is the same area that felt the brunt of the pain the first time that I broke my nose.

 

"Okay." Hikari said with some concern in her voice. I still did not look up to see her and fully confirm this fear. "There's a first aid kit in this locker room somewhere." she says, as she scans the walls of the locker room. "There it is." She goes over to the other side of this private locker room and pulls from the wall a large first aid kit from off a wall nearby a unisex restroom.

 

Hikari comes back to me with the kit in her left arm. She reaches for my chin to get a look at my face. I'm scared to wonder what will happen when she sees the mess that my face is right now. I then take a moment and ponder what I just thought to myself. In the past, I could have cared less how anyone, including my mother and father, thought about the way that I looked. But when my rival is about to catch me in a very embarrassing and humbling position like I am right now, I start to become self-conscious about my bloody face. In the presence of anybody else, I would just let them tend to my face, but something doesn't want me to let Hikari see me as weak as I am right now. I don't get it.

 

"All right." She says when she sees that I refuse to pick my face up and see her. "If you will cooperate with me and pick your chin up, I'll fix your-- Holy shit!" When I pick up my face to see her, I looked down to see that the blood was flowing like a waterfall down to the yellow dress. Upon me hearing her interjection, she immediately takes a combination of cotton balls and gauze and places it on the bridge of my nose to halt the overflow of life liquid.

 

"You got blood all over this dress! Goddamn it! Hold still!" Hikari exclaimed. I was downright flabbergasted and mad at her remark. It wasn't my health and safety that she was concerned with at all. It was about making sure that I didn't have any screw-ups as far as attire and appearance were concerned. Unfortunately for me (and I suppose her) that was taken out of my hands, as I showed off in front of Hikari and she felt it necessary to put me back in my place.

 

To show her just how disgusted I am with her conduct, I slap the arm away that was holding the cotton balls and gauze to my nose. I quickly pick up the cotton and place it back on the bridge of my nose, applying pressure. "What the hell, Hikari? You put more care into this dress than you did an actual human being. I'll admit, I haven't really shown you much in the way of care or concern for my own personal reasons, but I still..." I grit my teeth and stop myself, because I don't want to appear weak in front of her and blow my cover due to my anger with Hikari right now. "You know what? Just forget it. I've got to get ready for appeals..."

 

"Wait a minute!" Hikari shouts, as she grabs me by the near arm before I could walk a determinable distance to the locker room door. "You can't go out there looking like this!"

 

"Attention, please." It's the Public Address announcer's booming voice that I hear. "Attention to all coordinators and guests of the Veilstone City pokemon contest. Please be advised that initial appeals will begin in approximately 15 minutes. Again, all initial appeals of authorized and present coordinators will begin in 15 minutes. If guests have not yet been seated, we ask that you please take your seats at this time. We also ask all coordinators to begin forming a line at the arena entrance at this time. Thank you."

 

I smile at Hikari's shocked face. "It seems like I have no choice. If I don't get ready and stand in line for the introductions, I don't go out there for the appeal and I don't even get a chance to be embarrassed standing in front of TV land, bloody yellow dress or not." Upon saying this, I swear that I saw Hikari mouth 'son of a bitch'. "It's your own damn fault. If you hadn't tripped me up, we wouldn't be faced with the debacle were in right now."

 

"Quiet." Hikari shoots at me. "We have to think of something and quick." I grab her by the shoulders.

 

"There is no time! I'm sorry, Hikari, but I just have to go out there looking like this. Believe you me, I am the last person that would have wanted something like this to happen, but it's happened! And besides, you've got what you want! I'll be more embarrassed than anyone because I look like I fought a losing battle in a butcher shop in a young girl's party dress. Seriously, how embarrassing can you possibly get, Hikari?"

 

Hikari gives me a very hard sigh and throws her hands up in the air. "You're right. There is no time. You'll have to go out there in a bloody dress and do an appeal, and possibly some matches." Hikari turns away from me for just a moment to take a few deep breaths and then turns back towards me and brings out her right hand.

 

"Good luck, 'cause the direction you're going right now, you're gonna need a ton of it to have any fortune here tonight." I look at her hand, and then I look at her in disgust.

 

"Save it. I don't want or need your goddamn charity." And then I walk away, saying nothing else.

 

"Nozomi." I hear Hikari grunt. I turn back around, and I see her with her middle finger high in the air directed towards me. I turn away from her and leave the dressing room, again not saying anything else. In my mind a part of me was doing a touchdown celebration because she hates me so much and has little regard for me on a personal or professional level at this point. Another part of me, however, was deeply troubled by the mere fact that someone that I truly cared for would have these feelings for me. I shudder to think what would happen if I really went beyond appropriateness and caused her to snap once more. I, unfortunately, can't worry about that right now, as I have a pokemon contest to compete in.

 

Going to the back of the line which leads to the arena entrance, about 15 or so coordinators in front of me, and I could hear a pin drop at the point in which I entered the line. I can't tell whether it is the dress I'm wearing, or the fact that my blood stains on the frock make the entire scenario about ten times more absurd than it already is. It's depressing to say the least, as I believe that I've done little to deserve this spiteful scorn.

 

Before I feel get the urge to hurt a few people prior to the contests beginning, the sound of trumpets fills the contest house. The public address announcer speaks once again.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen. The city fathers of Veilstone City, along with the promoters of this contest in the beautiful Sinnoh region gladly welcome you to the first Veilstone City pokemon contest of 2007, presented to you live and in primetime!" This announcement warrants a loud cheer from the crowd that could be heard from the entrance tunnel just as loudly.

 

"And at this time, ladies and gentlemen" continues the announcer Marion Meridian. "it gives me a great deal of pleasure to welcome one of our own back home to officially introduce the coordinators in this contest, he is a skilled three year veteran of pokemon training, please welcome Veilstone's own, Shinji!"

 

Though hard to pinpoint him, I finally find who associates refer to as Shinji, and those who can get close to him in some way, shape or form refer to as Paul. He doesn't appear to be to happy to be here, but I suppose Veilstone City wanted to kickoff the New Year the right way by having Paul appear before a ruckus hometown crowd. Paul is a tough nut to crack, but I met him for the first time back in July, while he was out training, and I was earning badges in gym battles. I challenged him to a battle that was refereed by a local traveler.

 

It was a two-on-two affair that went over 15 minutes, but I was able to defeat Paul's Elekid with my Misdreavus to come out the victor. He said that I battled superbly and he had my respect, but thought it was a waste of all my talents to focus simply on coordinating. I wasn't insulted by this, because as intense a trainer as Paul is, just about everything he does must revolve around his craft. Much like any Grand Festival champions must focus solely on their craft, and what they excel in.

 

Paul introduces the line of coordinators to center stage, as a line of 24 coordinators walks towards the ring. I am about 16th in line, and once I come out, there is a barrage of flashbulbs that blind me, as the media gets their fill of 'Dressed down Nozomi'. I'm waiting for someone to tell me one of three things; 1) This is a dream, 2) I'm being punk'd, or 3) Nozomi Kobashi, smile, because you're on 'Candid Camera'. Unfortunately, none of these things occur, before us coordinators form a line around the contest ring, and when I pinched myself, I don't wake up from any deep slumber.

 

After a few minutes preparing portions of the stage, appeals finally begin. During this time, Hikari's traveling partner Satoshi entered the waiting room, and gave me a bottle of cold club soda to use, not saying much at all. He said 'Hikari felt bad about the whole situation and wanted you to look at least somewhat presentable'. I kindly thanked him and while cleaning away the blood on the dress, I awaited my number to be called.

 

The most successful of coordinators would go last, while the least successful go first in appeals. So out of about 25 coordinators who came to this contest, I will go through my appeal 23rd of 25 trainers. This gives me time to consider once again what to do with all of these dresses I have to wear, and I come to only one true conclusion as to how to use them and become even more hated by doing so. I will auction the dresses off, and give all the proceeds to charity. I can do this, because Hikari told me that they are mine to keep and do whatever I want with.

 

"Next up ladies and gentlemen to do her appeal is coordinator number 23. Please give it up for Nozomi Kobashi!" To that introduction from the P.A. announcer, I get a chorus of boos. When I come out to the stage for the second time, it appears that the crowd's reaction is magnified, and the booing became significantly louder and more direct. After about ten seconds of being out on stage, I get chants from the people of 'Zoey Sucks!'

 

I remember that the reason people know my nickname is because it is in the official rookie guide and the Veilstone City pokemon contest program. All I can do in response to the chant is tell myself this is exactly what I wanted; for me to play the bad guy agitator and for Hikari to become the hero who will shut this loudmouth up in spite of it all. This will be best for both of us in the long run.

 

As a response to the booing, I smile back to them, as a means of possibly killing the crowd with my own kindness. After nearly a minute of nonstop booing, the announcer asks the crowd to be silent for the appeal, and wouldn't you know it? Just a few seconds later, you could hear the tip of a pin drop in the house. The crowd may have little to no respect for me, but they have nothing but respect for the concept of sportsmanship.

 

I have two minutes to do my appeal, and I've already decided to use Glameow. Grabbing a pokeball, I command Glameow to `curtain' so we can begin. A red flash of light appears, but there is a problem. A pokemon comes out of the ball, but it is not Glameow, it's Misdreavus, and when she looks at me, she appeared to be confused.

 

'Shit.' I think to myself. I pulled out the wrong pokeball, and Misdreavus is confused, because she didn't get a chance to see me in the dress before the contest. Misdreavus knows that I would normally have my white tuxedo and cape with me, or I would be in my everyday attire. I would not have a yellow and white party dress stained in blood in any other circumstance.

 

Misdreavus is wandering aimlessly now, loudly screeching and attacking without merit other than the fact that I believe that she does not see her trainer, when I'm right here.

 

I have to take control of this situation, and quickly. The only problem is that I can't call Misdreavus back into her pokeball, because if I do, my appeal ends immediately. By law, I can only call out one pokemon, so Misdreavus is just gonna have to do for now. "Misdreavus, settle down! It's me, Nozomi!" That appears to have no affect on my psychic pokemon as she in continuing to attack anything and anyone that moves. She is so out of control that the judges in attendance have left their seats and run for cover.

 

"Misdreavus, please calm down!" I say very slowly. "Calm down, Misdreavus!"

 

"Zoey!" Someone in the crowd screams. I scan the crowd trying to find the source of the voice. "If you can't control your pokemon, we're not even gonna have a contest, 'cause Misdreavus will destroy everything in a mood of panic!" Once again, I quickly scan the premises. Then I finally find the source of the voice. It is Hikari, who is flailing her arms violently in an attempt to get my attention. For a moment, I'm surprised that she knew my nickname, but she must've read the program like everyone else.

 

It is at this point, I realize that I am beat. There is no way I could control Misdreavus in enough time and salvage an appeal to get me into the elimination rounds. I bring my head down in a form of shame. I could have avoided this, but my carelessness cost me in this instance.

 

"Misdreavus? Return." I call Misdreavus back into her pokeball, and go down to one knee. It sucks. This is the first time in my nine month career that I won't even get past the appeals round, and the fault rests entirely on my shoulders for this. Then again, I can't be entirely mad at myself for what was a very reasonable mistake.

 

I have pride in myself and my abilities, and just seconds after going down to one knee, I came right back up and smiled to the attending crowd, as I leave. I get no reaction as I leave, because the crowd is still in shock due to Misdreavus's actions a minute or so ago. Once I am sure that I am away from the view of the crowd, the frustration of what occurred just took me over, and I slam the brick wall nearest to me with my right arm.

 

"Fuck!" I yell out, more so to myself than anyone else. In the one chance I've had in the last few months to try and test my rival, I stumble out of the blocks. There will be no celebration for me tonight. Instead, I will be relegated to helping one of my peers celebrate their victory. Maybe no one will notice if I just head to the locker room, get my clothes, change and then get the hell out of here and try to forget this contest ever even occurred.

 

"Yeah. That's it." I silently speak. Why should I have to subject myself to this exercise if I am not really in a celebrating mood? So I make a quick turn to the locker room, and get myself ready to leave this contest and Veilstone City.

 

"Excuse me, Nozomi? Could you spare a couple of minutes?" I turn around, and I see him. It's a reporter who wants me to 'spare a couple of minutes'. The name of the reporter really doesn't matter, because ever since October, they have come out of the woodwork to get a word with me. I tell him that I've got a few minutes, and he starts firing away with questions.

 

"Is there any reason at all for what happened here tonight during your appeal? That obviously could not have been planned out in advance?"

 

"Well..." I begin in an almost bored tone. "You're right. There is absolutely no excuse I have for you and whoever may read or hear this as to why my appeal was botched, other than the fact that... I had a lot on my mind, and I just pulled out the wrong pokeball. Glameow was supposed to be the pokemon I was to use in this appeal, and then I would use my Flareon for the battle portion, but things obviously didn't turn out that way tonight."

 

"How does it feel to be ousted from the contest appeal for the first time?" I give somewhat of a weak smile and tell the reporter that 'I'm pissed' and left it at that.

 

"Care to elaborate on that in any way?" the reporter asks. I decide to just let it all out and leave no stones unturned about my feelings. "Well, I feel as if there were a lot of people that were banking on me to be in the finals of this contest. There were also many other people that wanted me to compete against Hikari in the finals tonight for obvious reasons, and I'm very sorry that I couldn't give the fans of this great sport what they wanted, and it appears that nothing tonight will be resolved until me and Hikari meet once again. If not... in a contest, then perhaps the GFCA will put this battle on pay-per-view in the next few months, because the GFCA claims that they are about the fans. Well, this is the match that all the fans are on the edge of their seats wanting to see. I say without a doubt, give the people what they want."

 

"All right. Any final remarks you'd like to make?" This is what should get me even more hatred from not just the fans, but fellow coordinators, as well.

 

"Yes. I have two remarks, actually. One is that I'm leaving this contest right after this interview, because quite frankly, I could care less who the winner is, and two; I'd like to announce to everyone that I will be auctioning off these dresses that I have to wear in contests in the near future, so you can have the dress that Nozomi wore to the Veilstone contest and... I royally screwed up in. And the proceeds will go to a charity to be named in the future. Thank you." And with that, I leave the reporter and his cameraperson and head to the locker room, no questions asked. I know that this interview, albeit short, served its purpose, and made a statement of poor sportsmanship, that will be the model for my antagonist demeanor that I hope to get across to the many people that will come to see contest that either Hikari or myself will be a part of.

 

When I think about it some more, there is value in giving people exactly what they want. If they want to boo me, why stop them? If they want to cheer for Hikari, or any other opponents that I may face, why stop them? Why try to lie to everyone about how pokemon coordinating is a great utopia of friendship, caring and trust where everyone gets along and everyone is friends with everyone else? Why not celebrate humanity, and the fact that people do cry when they lose, and are not humble in victory all of the time? I wasn't. I might have tried to hold it together, but I really wanted to break down, and that's not really a bad thing.

 

I just hope someone or something can clue in the heads of the GFCA into this fact of life.

 

A/N: After this chapter, there is obviously chapter seven, and that marks the end of the first arc of `Sharing'.

 

The `AIDS' joke (even though the disease it's no laughing matter) comes from the show `Late Night With Conan O'Brien', where he had a segment where he'd show brief clips of the TV show `Walker, Texas Ranger'. A young Haley Joel Osment said the line `Walker told me I have AIDS', and in the context of how it was shown, it was funny because it was so random. That's where the joke came from.

 

Not much to say here other than to leave your constructive criticism as always and check this author's page for updates on this and other stories.