Chapter Text
Dear diary, journal, BOOK,
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Dear diary,
This is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever had to write. It’s bad enough that I’m here to talk about my feelings, of all things, but what’s worse is that I don’t know where to start.
…Well, my name is Bede. I’m fifteen years old, and I’ve recently been endorsed by Chairman Rose for the Gym Challenge.
Fantastic news, of course. At least, that’s what I thought when I first heard it. I told all those antagonistic fools at the orphanage just how important I’d become. Just how delighted I was to leave them all behind and move on to the greater things I so deserved.
Now that I’ve had time to reflect on those sentiments, I’m starting to have second thoughts about them. Obviously, it’s thrilling to receive such an opportunity, but… what if I fail? What if the talent the chairman claimed to have seen in me isn’t enough to make me seem strong? I would rather die than come off as weak.
Which brings me back to this… book. I suppose the real reason I even decided to take it along was that I wanted to have a place to store my… vulnerabilities. When I’m a Gym Challenger, I’ll have to keep up this front that I’ve developed. It’s like a shield—hard, to protect the soft parts. Defensive and easy to hide behind. These ridiculous emotions would get in the way of that.
Anyway, the train’s next stop is where I get off… I’m heading to the Trainers’ school Chairman Rose recommended. Perhaps I’ll write more tonight.
- Bede
Silently, I stepped onto the platform.
The doors hissed shut behind me. The whole space was completely deserted—quiet and empty save for the sound of the train speeding away after having delivered me. I was tonight’s only passenger. It was 5:48 P.M.
I need to get home before curfew, I thought.
It was never nice having to return from my secret little outings, but here I was. I might as well get a move on. No avoiding it. I set off, footsteps echoing.
This was how it always happened. Every day’s narrative was the same, and it went like this:
At around noon, I’d wake up, get dressed, and slip out the front door before my parents could figure out what I was up to. Or, better yet, before they could notice me at all. I was good at sneaking around undetected. My sneakers were colourful, durable, and ready to traverse the stony streets of Wedgehurst no matter what. I was optimistic on these adventures, because I was always going to the same place; the one place it felt like I could breathe.
I’d make my way to the station and check the train schedule, just to make sure it hadn’t changed. It never did. Then I’d board the 1:00 train with a bunch of strangers and ride my way blissfully to freedom. They didn’t call it the Wild Area for no reason—it was easy to feel as wild as the Pokémon that lived there when you shared their quarters, unburdened by responsibility. I liked to be in the midst of that sort of thing. Taking it easy was hard when I was surrounded by everything that stressed me out, so breaks were nice, despite the Wild Area’s temperamental skies.
But, of course, as all good things must come to an end, I had to catch the 5:30 train home, which managed to leave me hesitating every time. If not at the gates, then at the doorstep of the station itself. Staring at the passing clouds. Wishing it was the next day, so I could do it all over again.
Then I’d get home before curfew. I always made it home before curfew. Even if I didn’t want to go back, I would, because I was determined not to screw up and surrender my alone time to a grounding.
Unfortunately, the citizens of my hometown decided to make it difficult this time.
They were gathered in a chattering mass outside the station, crowded around something I couldn’t see. Naturally, I wondered what was up, but above that, I was frustrated with the delay. I probably could’ve woven around them. I didn’t. The excitement was so heightened, it was almost tangible, and my curiosity won. I approached the throng, questions popping up in my head as I did so. What were they saying? Who were they talking to?
Eventually, they parted enough that I was able to catch a glimpse of the situation, and I had to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.
Standing powerfully in the centre of all the attention was Leon himself, smiling brighter than ever. The champion of Galar. The region’s role model, real and in the flesh and illuminated by the faint glow of Wedgehurst’s street lights. Arceus, he’s…
Leon looked even cooler when he was right in front of you. There were some things not even the highest-quality cameras could capture, like that truly fearless demeanour. He reminded me of superheroes, of knights in shining armour, of everything I knew was so far from my mundane little life. Still, he was so close. If I just crept forward a few steps and tugged at that blood-red cape full of sponsorship patches, he might actually turn and look at me. Smile at me. Something.
“Lee!” A voice silenced the crowd. A voice I happened to recognise…
“Hop!”
Leon spoke one word, and everyone stepped aside to make room for him when he turned. He approached a pair of kids my age; Hop and his best friend Gloria, the community’s favourite people to dote on.
“So,” said the champion, “my number-one fan in all the world has come out of his way to pick me up!”
Suddenly, I remembered it was rude to stare. I squared my shoulders and forced my gaze somewhere else. Of course he’s here for his little brother. It was 5:54 P.M. He’s not going to mingle with some kid he doesn’t know. It was 5:54 P.M., and I was still here. What was I doing?
Decidedly, I turned and abandoned the scene behind me, stepping harder in an attempt to kick up a dust trail. To leave it in the dirt. I walked down the middle of the path leading up to my house, wondering if I’d regret being feet away from Leon and not even trying to address him. Wondering if I really cared that much, or if I just felt left out.
You always feel left out, I chided. And maybe it was true. But seeing how much potential that duo from Postwick had… it pushed me up to the edge. It didn’t seem fair to me that some people are born lucky, and some people aren’t. I have nothing going for me, I thought. I’m not related to a champion. I’m nobody.
My destination was at the end of the road, all the lights on inside. It was 5:56 P.M.
Nobody.
I paused, actually stopped in my tracks, so I could vigorously shake my head to free it from those claustrophobic notions. When I had finished, I didn’t feel much better. All it had done was make me dizzy, and that definitely wasn’t going to speed up my commute.
I ran the rest of the way.
Slam!
The door closed behind me, louder even than my ragged breathing. I felt my face instinctively scrunch up. Uh-oh. We do not slam doors in this house.
Standing in the attached kitchen to my right were my mum and dad, who seemed to have been preoccupied with some sort of argument. Or maybe it was more of a discussion. That’s what they told me when they fought—that it wasn’t a fight. Whatever it was, my barging in must’ve put it on hold, and when Mum laid eyes on me, I knew I was dead.
She was very irritated. What else was new?
“Chase Flores, where have you been this time?”
I swallowed hard. Even Dad understood the severity of getting last-named, and he quickly removed himself from the situation by tending to dinner at the counter. At least she hadn’t full- named me. I could live to see another day.
It was at the exact moment I opened my mouth to reply that my mother decided, lovingly, to cut me off:
“And what is that in your hair? Leaves?” She placed both hands on her hips, looking big and mean despite being a small Paldean woman. “The grass stains on your clothes, too. You refuse to wear anything nice, then go staining what you do wear.”
I’d learned that the best course of action in situations like this was to stay silent until she was done. If I hadn’t known this, I might’ve lied about where I was, then mentioned that ‘nice’ clothing was reserved for people who had money. But I didn’t dare go there.
“Why are you so irresponsible?” she demanded.
Silence. So that was how she wanted to end things.
“I came back before curfew,” I muttered, slumping into a chair at the kitchen table. Escape was impossible at this point, anyway. The clock on the wall read 6:00 sharp.
“Is that all I can expect from you nowadays, Chase?” Mum’s voice had reached a new level of dissatisfaction. Dad was preparing food as fast as his hands would let him. “You’re always off doing something or other—never home—and don’t even get me started on your grades. If you were enrolled in public school—”
My father finally interrupted, and I was glad. Please, Arceus, don’t take me out of online classes.
“This,” he said, “is supposed to be part of the civil discussion we were going to have later. Remember, mi amor?”
He stepped away from the counter to gently touch my mother’s freckled arm. They exchanged a deep, knowing look, and Mum sighed.
“Yes, of course… civil,” she murmured.
I narrowed my eyes and shifted against the wooden chair. It scraped across the tile with a loud screech. What aren’t they telling me?
Dad returned to the dish he’d been making and picked it up with his bare hands, whispering: “Ah, hot.” He barely had to take a step before I knew what it was—I’d recognise that smell anywhere.
“Elote?”
Dad nodded, “Made your favourite tonight,” and came to the table, where he placed the platter. Warm steam billowed hazily into the air above it. The corn seemed to sparkle. A dish all its own—edible magnificence. That was an exaggeration, of course, but I found myself salivating nonetheless. Fortunately, I was smart enough to come to my senses, and I only spared another second of staring before turning back to the uneasy gazes of my parents.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. They weren’t going to use food to trick me.
Neither of them spoke.
Okay, so it must be pretty serious, I noted. Nervously, I began to tap my foot under the table. To distract myself from the tension, I leaned forward and did exactly what my dad wanted me to. I took one of the cobs by the stick it had been skewered on, then raised it cautiously to my lips.
“What’s… going on?”
Slow, uncomfortably long bite. As I frowned up at them, scorn exploded in me almost faster than the flavours on my tongue. Delicious. Dad had put every ounce of his soul into this meal. I could tell. And he’d done it for a reason; to soften a blow.
Finally, after a few more totally not-subtle glances at each other, the pair began their Civil Discussion.
“So… you might’ve noticed the recent stress in the house,” said Dad.
I scoffed under my breath.
He continued, “We’ve been doing some… ah, decision-making, and… Well—”
Mum finally rolled her eyes and blurted: “We’re moving.”
Pause.
What?
My ability to inhale was faulty all of a sudden. Moving. Even my foot stopped tapping in shock. Moving?
Evidently, I didn’t look fazed on the outside. Without being able to hear my thoughts, my mum went on about why; something about economy and culture and whatever else, but I wasn’t listening. I was too busy trying to process it. This was too scary, too much. I could get over being grounded or something, but abandoning Wedgehurst? We’d lived here my whole life. And it was so close to the Wild Area…
“Chase? Did you hear?”
I was out of my head, back in my kitchen, as if nothing had even changed. I looked at my father in a daze and tilted my head.
“Levensek,” he said. “It’s really a nice city. We’ve been looking into it for a while. It’s got a… lovely atmosphere.”
“Lovely.” Lovely? Levensek is the opposite of lovely! If anything, its atmosphere was hostile. He couldn’t fool me into liking it there—everyone in Galar knew that Levensek was the region’s worst city. Its community refused to take part in the Gym Challenge, so there wasn’t even a Gym. Just dirt, grime, and overpriced gift shops. I’d been there once. It was unenjoyable. I told myself I’d never go back.
But here I was.
I kept my mouth shut. That was, until my mother dropped a bomb on me.
“You’ve already been enrolled at Levensek Academy, so you won’t need to worry about school,” she assured me. I felt the saturation draining from my cheeks. I felt the appetite draining from my stomach. “When we get everything settled, I can take you to get your uniform—”
“There’s a uniform…?”
“It’s a boarding school.”
“It’s a boarding school?!”
I stood up too abruptly, and the chair tilted so far back, it almost fell over. I struggled helplessly to find words. This couldn’t happen—I couldn’t let it. But my tongue refused to cooperate. I immediately sought solace in my dad’s eyes. Surely, he had something to say about this.
His expression turned pitiful.
“Look, Chase, it’s- I mean, I know it doesn’t sound all too great.” He ran a hand through his thick black hair. “But it’s for the best. We felt like you could benefit from a-a stricter environment. The academy can be fun, like a new opportunity! They’ll just… offer a bit of reform, and you’ll be a straight-A student before you know it.”
If it was hard to breathe before, I didn’t know what to call my current condition. Speechless, I sunk back into my seat, face contorted into a defeated grimace. Strict. Reform. Straight-A student. Maybe I wasn’t perfect, but…
I took another bite of elote, this one bigger than the last. If I couldn’t argue, I could at least give them the cold shoulder. I was better at that, anyway. Glaring daggers at both of my parents, I chewed contemptuously, one thought at the front of my mind.
Adiós, joy.
Dear… diary?
Sure.
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Dear diary,
AHHHHHHHH!!!
Unfortunately, writing uppercase Hs doesn’t even come close to actually screaming, but it’s all I have right now. UGH.
I understand how much I sound like an angsty teenager, but journaling was all I could think of. If I uncorked my bottled-up emotions, my mom would never let me hear the end of it. So I’m writing the rage away.
Um, hi. My name’s Chase. I’m 15 and a high school sophomore, which didn’t used to bother me, but now it’s all I can think about. Because soon, I’m going to be a high school sophomore at Levensek Academy, and that’s so much worse. So so so much worse.
I’m less fed up now that I’ve had time to consider it, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about my situation.
It’s not that I’m, like… annoyed because I hate school or something. I just think that if I do this, I’m going to become a ghost. Sometimes I already feel like one, with the way I fade into the background. Half invisible so far—what’ll happen when I’m isolated in some dorm room? I’ll cease to exist. I don’t belong there. In fact, I’m starting to realise that I don’t belong anywhere.
Except… I guess this is helping a little. Maybe I’ll bring this dumb book along for the ride. It’s a good place to keep my bigger emotions, you know? Especially considering I’m going to keep them hidden from now on. It’s better not to be exposed like that.
I should buy a lock for this thing.
- Chase