Don'cha hate it when somebody beats you to an idea?

I must say here that, although I have been considering this idea for a very long time, I was beaten to the punch by at least two months in actually writing it by the author whose pen name is Writer's Block. Seeing his/her idea posted gave me the ridiculous idea that I could actually take the time to write down mine. Be sure to visit his/her stories of The Other Trainer. They are very good, but, as he/she actually already covered the problem of the fourth trainer (which is why my series was originally to be titled "4^th Trainer", and why I had to change the title), my stories will have nothing to do with his/hers. Originally, I had hoped to give him/her credit for posting this idea first (and, I admit, probably coming up with it first, too) by including mention of his/her character and staying true to the idea of which Pokémon his/her character chose. However, that one bit of fact, by the name of Kyle, has ruined that well-intentioned but futile idea. Instead, I have had to change my current idea into something… well, completely original, and demote what seemed like brilliance at the time into this silly little introduction.

I'm sorry, Writer's Block. I tried. Now, I'll tell my side of things.

S. "Veravine" Kelly

[email protected]

A Pallet Pair #1:

Eevee and Remmy

She awoke to the squawk-squawk-squawk, squawk-squawk-squawk, squawk-squawk-squawk of her Dodrio alarm clock long before the real alarm clock of Pallet Town - a real Dodrio - woke everyone else. She leaped out of bed, her head twisting almost painfully fast to look at the calendar. She leaped up, pumping her fist into the air. "Yes, yes, yes!" she shouted, not caring who she woke up. Who could sleep in today?! She threw a sweatshirt over the tee shirt she'd slept in and tugged her sweat pants a little higher. She ran a quick hand through her shoulder-length, dull brown hair and sat quickly back on her bed, reaching under it at the same time in a desperate search for her sneakers. Finding one, she impatiently jammed it on the wrong foot. With a growl of annoyance, she put it on the correct foot, then fished blindly under her bed for the other one. Where was it?! She had to hurry! She had to get there first, she just had to!

"Come on, come on!" she snapped at herself as she fumbled to tie her shoelaces. "Move, move, move, move, move!"

Her laces tied, she leaped from her bed again, snatched her backpack off her desk chair, then pounded down the stairs. She sprinted through the kitchen, out the door, into the garage, and, snatching her bike from where it leaned against the wall, she ran outside again, not even slowing down as she jumped on her bike and started peddling as hard as she could.

Meanwhile, Nuisance finally picked himself up from where he landed when she knocked him out of the bed. He looked around dazedly, trying to figure out how he ended up on the floor.

*

She pounded on the door impatiently, too hyper to even consider being tired. "Come on!" she shouted. "I know you're there! Open up! Come on! Professor!"

There was a vague grumble on the other side of the door, which at last opened to reveal the man she so desperately needed to see. He looked at her through bleary, bloodshot eyes. "Ivy?" he muttered blankly.

"Good morning, Professor Oak!" she cried cheerfully. "Today's the day, you can't turn me away this morning! You promised that I could choose today, so here I am, I'm ready to choose, come on, I want to get started right away, I've been ready to go for two years already, come on Professor, I want my Pokémon now!"

*

Meet Ivonar Marain - "Ivy", to those who don't know she hates being called "Ivy" but is too polite to, or respects too much, to correct.

Twelve years old, brown hair, amber eyes, too much energy and too little of an attention span. She loves challenges, Pokémon, adventure, and having fun. She dislikes bullies, being bored, a certain relation to Professor Oak, and losing. She only sleeps in the rare hours when there isn't something better to do, like late at night or in math class.

Two years ago, Ivonar was prepared to start her Pokémon journey. She was more prepared than any of the other hopefuls that year - over-prepared, even.

But, unlike the other hopefuls, she came down with the flu.

A year later, she was somehow even more prepared than she had been a year before. True, she spent most of the time obsessing about what she should have been doing, if she was actually training and not waiting to train, but she took some time to actually study from books and learn a little about what she so desperately wanted to do. She didn't study hard, of course - studying was, no matter what the subject matter, boring, and Ivonar avoided anything boring. But, a year later - actually, eleven months later - she slipped on one of the action figures her younger brother left on the staircase at home and had to wear a cast on her broken leg for nine weeks. Again, she had missed her dream. Her brother gave her a Pokémon he'd caught (by accident, but that's another story) to apologize, but that didn't change the fact that she couldn't walk for nearly three months, much less become a Pokémon trainer.

But not this year. This year, Ivonar was more desperate than ever to finally begin. She did everything her parents told her to do, both to stay healthy and to avoid being grounded at the time of actually becoming a novice trainer. She had walked with care everywhere she went. She avoided all possible bad-luck superstitious situations.

And now, finally, at last, after two years - twenty-four months - one hundred and four weeks - seven hundred and thirty days - seventeen thousand, five hundred twenty hours - one million, fifty-one thousand, two hundred minutes - sixty-three million, seventy-two thousand seconds - finally, she was going to do it!

… well, maybe not that long.

She was a little early.

*

Professor Oak groaned. "Ivy, it is five o'clock in the morning."

"I'm ready," she replied cheerfully.

He sighed. "I told the others - and you - that I wasn't going to give anyone Pokémon until 7:30 sharp."

"Oh, please, Professor!" she begged.

"Ivy."

"Please!"

He stared at her haggardly. "Ivy, you have been coming here, without fail, every morning, for the last two weeks, at five a.m., begging for your Pokémon."

"But today's the right day!" she pointed out. "You promised to give them to us today!"

He sighed again, yawned, then rubbed his forehead in defeat. "If I give you your Pokémon now," he grumbled, "will you finally let me sleep?"

"Absolutely," she promised. "You won't see me ever again."

"Let's not go that far," he said, smiling a little at his oldest, longest, and easily most eager - if least attentive - student. "Just not before the sun's up."

"Not a problem," she agreed, shaking her head solemnly. "I swear, you will never see me before dawn ever, ever again."

"Fine," he sighed. He opened the door wider. In spite of his sleep-tussled hair, bloodshot eyes, and unshaven chin, Ivonar was still surprised to see that he was still in his pajamas and bathrobe. "This way." He led her into a small room, dominated by a circular table, in which three pokéballs - one marked with a small red flame, one with a little green leaf, and one with a blue drop of water - rested in little scoops. "You have a choice of Bul-"

"Charmander," she said immediately. She'd had two long, agonizing years to wrack her brain about which to pick.

"Charmander," he agreed, picking up the pokéball marked with the flame. He then took a fistful of shrunk-down, unlabeled pokéballs, and held out his full fist to her. She eagerly accepted them, stashing all but one in her backpack. She pressed the button on the front, enlarging it to full size. "This one's a little stubborn," he warned her.

"That's okay," she replied eagerly. "I like challenges."

"I'm sure you're going to have one," he said, nodding a little. He activated the marked ball, allowing its occupant to escape.

With a flare of red light, the little fire lizard Pokémon emerged from its pokéball. It looked around dazedly with innocent-looking green eyes, and the flame on its tail glowed gently, like a large candle. Ivonar was immediately in love. "Oh," she breathed, crouching down to be closer to the creature's eye level, "aren't you so wonderful?"

Now knowing where it was, the dazed expression changed to one of disappointment. The Charmander regarded her with skepticism. "Char?" it asked, its tone suggesting something more along the lines of, "I'm stuck with her?"

"Now you behave," Professor Oak said, yawning again.

"Oh, of course it'll behave," Ivonar chided him.

"I meant you." The Charmander snickered. "No more waking me up. Have fun, stay safe, take this." He handed her a thin, red device, which looked vaguely like her electronic organizer. "A Pokédex, to help you recognize and catalog all the Pokémon you see."

Ivonar frowned a little. "Do I really need this? I mean, how long have I been stuck studying Pokémon? What does this little doohickey know that I don't?"

"It will also identify you as a trainer. It's a perfectly good source of identification."

"Oh." Shrugging, she shoved it into her pocket. "Anything else?"

"No, no, I think if you go home and get all your gear, you should be all set."

"Thanks, Professor!" Jumping up a little, she kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks a whole bunch!"

He rubbed his cheek, a little surprised. "Yes, of course," he said. "You're welcome, Ivy. And remember!" he called after her as she raced for the door. "You're never to wake me up again!"

"Right, Professor! Thanks again!" The door slammed behind her.

With a sigh, he leaned against the table, putting the empty Pokéball back into its little niche. "Now, maybe I can catch an hour or so nap," he muttered to himself, "before-"

The door slammed open again.

"Hi, Grandpa!" another infuriatingly cheerful voice shouted.

He rubbed his forehead with a groan.

*

She forced herself not to smile smugly as Gary Oak's flashy, chauffeured convertible, complete with small parade of well-wishers and pack of ridiculous cheerleaders, pulled up in front of Professor Oak's. "Good morning, Gary," she called, cinching her backpack higher onto her shoulders. "Up a little early, aren't we?"

The cocky ten-year-old leaped out of the car with a sneer. "Oh, and you're not?" he replied. "It takes a lot to get ahead of me, Old Lady! Don't you start trying it!"

"Old Lady". It was the infuriating nickname Gary had given her this year, because she was older than the other three trainers-to-be. The others had laughed with him. Stupid boys. It didn't matter that they were two years older than her brother: they sure didn't act it. She'd show them.

"Whoever said I started?" she asked innocently, brushing passed him. She stood among his groupies as he went into the building. "Hi, Grandpa!" she heard him call before he shut the door halfway.

She imagined what was being said.

"Aren't you here early, Gary?" Professor Oak would ask.

"Well, you know me, Grandpa," Gary would reply. "I can't wait to get started. And I couldn't let anyone get started before I did."

"Well, surprisingly enough, Gary, you're not the first one here," Professor Oak would tell him. "Ivy got here at five o'clock, can you believe that?"

Obviously, what she imagined was close to what happened, because, just as Professor Oak's second probable statement went through her mind, the eager crowd was silenced as Gary's strident scream of "WHAT?!" rang through the early morning air.

*

Still grinning, even after the bike ride home, Ivonar walked into the kitchen. Her mother smiled at her amongst her curlers. "Good morning, Eevee," she greeted her, using the nickname she greatly preferred. "You're up early again. You didn't go and bug Professor Oak about giving you your starter Pokémon early again, did you?"

"I didn't get there long before Gary Oak did," Ivonar replied, dodging the question as she opened the refrigerator. She pulled out the milk, and a bagel. "But I got my Charmander!"

"Congratulations," her mother said. "But I really wish you hadn't been so rude to the Professor. He's a very nice man, Ivonar. I don't like it that you spent the last two weeks getting him up at such a ridiculous hour."

Ivonar fell into her chair. "You're up, aren't you?"

"I have to feed you," Mrs. Marain pointed out. She looked grimly at Ivonar's bagel. "Is that really what you want for breakfast?"

"Yup." She poured herself a glass of milk, then began munching on the raw bagel. "You know I don't like fancy breakfasts."

"I could very easily fix you some pancakes, or maybe waffles-"

"Not this morning, Mom. Thanks, but I'm okay."

Her mother leaned her chin against her fist. "Eevee, I'm worried."

Ivonar rolled her eyes. "Mom, the others are ten years old. Their mothers aren't worried."

"Aren't worried? You obviously haven't been near any of them! Mrs. Oak has been in denial, what's-his-name - that red-haired kid - his mother has been crying for almost a month! And Mrs. Ketchum! Mrs. Ketchum's on the verge of a total mental meltdown! Don't tell me the other mothers aren't worried, Ivonar! I know they're worried!"

"Okay, okay!" Ivonar cried, holding up her hands - her bagel in one, her glass in the other. "Point taken! They're worried! But their sons are ten years old, Mom. They're kids! I'm twelve. I'm not a little kid anymore."

"That's what you said when you were ten," Mrs. Marain pointed out.

"Yeah…" Ivonar admitted sheepishly, then added, "but I'm a girl. Girls are always more mature than boys."

"Always, huh?" Mrs. Marain asked skeptically.

Just then, Toby Marain pounded down the stairs, raced into the room, snatched Ivonar's bagel out of her hand, slammed it into her glass of milk, stuck his tongue out at her, and ran back upstairs, laughing.

"Do you need further proof than that?" Ivonar replied, pointing a finger after her brother. She fished her bagel out of her glass, and frowned sadly at it. She put it back in the glass. She sighed, then, getting up, poured the entire contents of her glass into a bowl on the floor. "I think I'll take you up on the waffles. I have to get dressed," she said. "Manx!" she yelled. "Milk, Manx! Come get some milk!"

The sound of quick, but almost silent, padding feet sounded in the hardwood floored living room, and the tall, graceful Persian hurried into the room. Its beauty was marred, however, by the oddest thing.

It had no tail.

The story was so old to Ivonar that she didn't give the tailless Pokémon a second glance as she turned away and went back upstairs. She knew, too well, how her mother had found the poor, bleeding Meowth years ago, torn up and tailless from a fight with a mean Growlithe. How, when he evolved into a Persian, his tail hadn't grown back, making it so his name - Manx - still fit him.

"Hmm," Mrs. Marain said to herself, giving the Pokémon's head a gentle rub as she passed him to get to the cupboard. "Maybe…"

*

"Ha, ha, ha, ha! Nanny-nanny-nanny!"

Ivonar rolled her eyes as she went up the last step. "Toby!" she shouted. "Are you annoying Nuisance again?"

"Nanny-nanny-nanny!"

She stomped into her room. Sure enough, there was her brother, being a pain.

"Bad enough you wrecked my breakfast!" she shouted at him. "Leave Nuisance alone!"

"I gave him to you!" he shouted back. "I can do what I want!"

"You gave him to me because you broke my leg!" she retorted. "And just because you gave him to me doesn't give you any right to be mean! Get out of my room!"

"It's my house, too!"

"But it's my room! Now get out!" He stuck his tongue out at her. "Daddy!" she shouted. "Toby won't get out of my room again!"

"Toby, get out of her room," a voice called from the bathroom.

"And he's being mean to Nuisance again!"

"Toby, don't be mean to Nuisance," the voice called.

"Toby won't get out of my room," Toby mimicked Ivonar in a squeaky voice.

"Daddy!"

Sticking out his tongue one last time, Toby raced out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Ivonar sighed. "Oh," she crooned, kneeling down. "Was he being mean to you again, poor little guy?" She pulled her pet - hers, not like Manx, who was considered her mother's pet, especially since he and Ivonar were on strictly "don't bug me, don't bug you" terms - to her in a tight hug. "My poor, poor Nuisance," she said, rocking him back and forth. "Nobody appreciates you, do they?" He stared blankly at her. "But I do," she assured him, letting him go. "I've been thinking." He merely watched her, his blank stare unwavering. She went to her closet to get something to wear besides what she'd slept in. "I can't leave you here, can I? Daddy's such a scatterbrain he'd never feed you, Mom has a hard enough time keeping finicky old Manx happy and dealing with Toby, and Toby…!" She shuddered. "How could I leave you alone with him? All he does is tease you. He's so mean." She got out of the closet again, all set in jeans, her sneakers, her favorite shirt, and, to keep her mother happy, a sweater. As an afterthought, she turned to her dresser, getting her hairbrush, and got her hair to at least stop sticking up. Finally, she turned back to her best friend and worst headache. "Well?" she asked, kneeling down again. She ruffled the feathers on his head. "You want to come with me?"

His stare was no less blank than it ever was, but she'd long ago learned to read his "voice".

"Psy ai!" he agreed.

"Great!" she cried, hugging him again. "Okay, so you're going to have to meet… um… the Charmander." She looked around. "Oh, great, I left my pack downstairs!" she cried. "Toby better not have touched it!" Picking up Nuisance - what Toby had first called the Pokémon he'd caught, and given to her (in apology for leaving his toy right where she stepped on it) a mean name that unfortunately stuck - with a grunt, she hurried from the room.

*

Manx eyed the Psyduck as he finished the milk and bread mixture in his bowl.

Nuisance watched the tailless Persian warily, though his staring eyes didn't reveal just how closely he was watching the cat.

Nobody was paying any attention to what either of them were doing.

"But Mom, please! Why can't I take Nuisance? He is a Pokémon!"

"Why would you want to?" Toby demanded around a mouthful of waffle. "He can't do nothing!"

"Do anything," Mrs. Marain corrected him gently.

"No, I mean do nothing! He can't even do nothing right, much less anything!" Toby grinned at what he thought was very smart.

"You leave Nuisance alone!" Ivonar snapped.

"Toby does have a point, Eevee," Mr. Marain said from behind the paper. It was impossible to see the face of Mr. Marain before he had showered, shaved, and read the paper, and even then catching him without his face hidden behind something was very unlikely. "You never taught Nuisance any attacks. He's strictly a pet."

"I don't want to leave him here!" she whined, putting down her fork. "Daddy, please! How can I sleep without having Nuisance on my feet? I won't be able to!"

"You did for ten years," Mrs. Marain pointed out.

"But not once since Toby gave him to me!" Ivonar insisted. "I'll teach him attacks, I swear! Please? How can I leave for months without taking Nuisance?"

Mrs. Marain frowned behind her coffee mug. "Bad enough I have to worry about you," she said. "I don't want to have to worry about Nuisance, too."

"You won't have to!" Ivonar cried. "He'll be with me! I've always taken care of him, haven't I? You've never had to deal with him since Nuisance became mine. I've always fed him, cleaned him, kept him happy, cleaned up after him… you've never had to do anything for him! You don't know what he likes and what he doesn't! If he stays with me he'll be happier!"

Mr. Marain sighed. "Why don't we let Nuisance decide?" he suggested. "He may look stupid-"

"Daddy!" Ivonar snapped. Toby snorted, trying not to squirt orange juice out of his nose.

"-but he is smart, in his own way."

Mrs. Marain did her best to smile at Nuisance, but she had never become comfortable with the way he never blinked - at least, not while she was looking. "What do you think, Nuisance?" she asked sweetly. "Would you rather stay here in the nice, warm, safe, dry house with me and Daddy and Toby, or would you rather go with Ivonar in the cold, empty, dangerous-"

"Mom…" Ivonar warned her as she picked up her fork again.

"- which would you rather, hmm?"

Nuisance seemed to frown a little. "Psy?"

Toby snickered. "You talked too long, Mom. He forgot what you said."

"He did not! He's thinking," Ivonar snapped.

With a final, wary glance at Manx, Nuisance walked around the kitchen table to hug Ivonar's leg. "Duck," he said firmly, rubbing his cheek against her calf.

"It's settled," Mr. Marain said, turning a page in the paper. "Nuisance goes with Eevee. I'd suggest he go in a pokéball, though."

Toby and Ivonar traded looks. Neither of them had yet discovered how their father could tell what was going on when he couldn't see it around his paper.

"Manx should go, too," Mrs. Marain said. The Persian looked up at the sound of his name.

"What?" Ivonar demanded, dropping her fork with a clatter. "Mom! How can I take Manx?"

"He's strong, and he's trained," Mrs. Marain said firmly.

"And I won't have to feed him anymore," Toby added.

Mrs. Marain glanced disapprovingly at her son. "If you're going to take an untrained… well, nuisance, like Nuisance-"

"He is not a nuisance!" Ivonar cried. Nuisance looked around, completely confused by how many times people seemed to be saying his name in ways that made no sense. Ivonar grimaced. "No matter what his name is," she muttered, pouting.

"Maybe not," Mrs. Marain conceded, "but he's untrained and isn't going to be much of a help. I think you should take Manx to balance him out."

"But Mom!"

"No buts. If you want to take Nuisance, you have to take Manx."

"But we already decided that Nuisance was going!"

"Don't argue with me! You take that Psyduck, you take Manx."

Ivonar's shoulders fell. She decided that she should be thankful for a compromise, not an adamant "no". "Okay," she sighed. "But he has to stay in a pokéball, too." She glared at the Persian, who looked at her smugly, then looked pointedly at her fresh glass of milk. "And he had better behave." She renewed her glare. "And no, you aren't getting this glass. Go bug Toby - he's the reason you got the first one."

With a huffy grunt of "Gin!", Manx flopped down on the floor, half of him under the table. His tail would have been draped across the floor, asking to get tripped on, if he had one. He rested his chin on his paws. Already, he had a bad feeling about this.

When Ivonar finished breakfast, she dug into her pack, pulling out the one enlarged pokéball. "Here it is!" she crowed. "My little Charmander." She pressed the button on the front, releasing its occupant.

"Wow, cool!" Toby cried. He jumped up, to look over the table.

The Charmander looked around, as it had before, looking for dangers and familiarity alike. It barely glanced at Nuisance, but its eyes lingered on Manx. Manx stared right back, wondering at this new intruder in his domain.

Bad enough the stupid duck: he was harmless. This thing wasn't. He kept wary eyes focused on the lizard's flaming tail. Realizing that, the Charmander waved its tail warningly, making the flame flare up. Manx remained where he was, half under the table.

"It's a very nice Charmander, Eevee," Mr. Marain said. He turned back a page in his paper.

"What's its name?" Toby asked.

Ivonar drew a blank. "Umm… it's named… uh…"

The Charmander looked at her skeptically. "Char?" it urged her.

"Yeah!" she cried. "Mom, Daddy, Toby, this is Char."

The Charmander rolled its eyes. "Man…"

"What?" she demanded. "You don't want to be called Char? You have a better idea?"

"It can only say three syllables," Mrs. Marain pointed out. "Maybe it'd prefer being called Man, or Der."

Toby snickered. "Yeah, name it Der! Or, how about Duh? Huh? It'd be perfect! Nuisance and Duh!" He giggled.

"Shut up!" Ivonar snapped.

"Char!" the Charmander snapped. Flame burst from its mouth, blazing right in Toby's face.

"Char! Bad Charmander!" Mrs. Marain shouted. Surprised, the Charmander stopped.

"Whoa," Ivonar breathed, startled. "Char already knows flame-thrower?" She grinned at her brother's soot-covered, only minorly scalded face. "Cool."

"Shut up," Toby muttered.

Ivonar was still grinning as she pressed the button on the pokéball again. "Okay, Char, back you go," she said. Char avoided the beam. "Hey!" It stuck its tongue out at her, crossing its forelegs stubbornly. "What's your problem? Why won't you go into the ball?"

Char merely pouted. "Char, char!" it grumbled in reply.

"Sounds offended, to me," Mr. Marain said.

"Offended?" Ivonar echoed. "Why would it be offended?"

"Char!" Char snapped, pouting.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Toby asked. Then he smiled wickedly. "Because girls are stupid. You'd better have gotten a boy."

"Char…man…der!" Char shouted, blasting him with another flare of fire.

"Not in the house, little lady!" Mrs. Marain scolded Char. Char closed her mouth, cringing a little.

"Probably being called 'it'," Mr. Marain suggested, reaching around his paper for his mug of coffee. "I wouldn't like that much, myself."

"Charmander," Char agreed with a nod.

"I'm sorry, Char," Ivonar apologized.

Char shrugged a little. "Char."

"Now will you go in the pokéball? I want to get started!"

Char looked at her out of the corner of her eye. The message was clear:

Don't expect me to stay in there.

But, just as the message was sent via glare, Char turned into a beam of red light, and returned to her pokéball.

"Okay," Ivonar sighed, going into her pack for more of the balls. "Now for the other two."

*

It took three seconds to get Nuisance into a ball. It took over an hour before Manx could be lulled to sleep with a belly full of hamburger before he got into one.

"Mom, how am I going to train with Manx if he won't obey?" Ivonar asked, nursing a four-inch long cut on her arm. Manx had decided to be rough when she decided to start shouting at him. She'd quickly learned that shouting only led to bloodshed with that stupid Persian - her blood - but sometimes, it seemed like shouting would be the only thing that would work. Not that it ever did, but she was hoping, someday…

"He'll behave," Mrs. Marain told her, as if that would automatically make him do it.

"Uh-huh," Ivonar said, not at all convinced.

"Oh, be optimistic. I bet none of the boys have caught a single Pokémon yet, and you already have three. You already have three times as many Pokémon as any of them."

"I have Char, Nuisance, and a real nuisance," Ivonar corrected her. "I think I'm worse off. Do I have to take Manx?" Her mother didn't need to answer that with words: one glare said enough. Ivonar's shoulders slumped in defeat. She got onto her bike, her supplies jammed into the wire paper route baskets that hung off either side of the back. Her sleeping bag was lashed to the seat, balanced on top of everything else so it wouldn't get caught in her back wheel. "Okay, okay, okay." She leaned over to give her mother a kiss good-bye. Toby waved from the doorway. Mr. Marain was still at the table, finishing his paper. "Tell Daddy I said goodbye, okay?" she asked as she put on her helmet.

"I will." Mrs. Marain grimaced, blinking quickly.

"Oh, Mom." Ivonar shook her head. "Please don't cry, okay? Please? Bad enough I have to take Manx. Don't cry."

"I was glad you didn't go these last two years," Mrs. Marain said tearfully, not yielding to her daughter's pleading. "I'm going to miss you!" She crushed Ivonar in a bear hug. "Now you be sure to stay clean, and feed Nuisance, and let Manx out every few hours so he can stretch, and don't ignore Char, and-"

"Mom."

Mrs. Marain bit her lip. "I'm missing you already."

"I'm not going to get anywhere if you keep telling me what you've tried telling me for two straight years, Mom. Relax." Ivonar smiled. "I'll be fine. You'll see. I'll call whenever I can."

"You'd better." Ivonar shifted her weight, getting both feet on the pedals, and started off. Mrs. Marain waved, and waved, and waved, long after she had disappeared from sight.

"Even when there's a delay," she murmured to herself, "they grow up much too fast."

*

"Hey, Eevee, wait up!"

Ivonar groaned, and peddled harder. No way was she waiting!

"Eevee! Hey, come on, Ivonar! IVONAR!"

She peddled as hard as she could, leaning over the handlebars.

"Ivonar! Come on!"

"Good luck, Remmy!" she shouted, peddling even harder. She glanced over her shoulder- and nearly tipped.

No way!

Just behind her, the ten-year-old ran, his feet seeming allergic to the ground; if she hadn't known any better, she'd say he was flying. She hit the brakes, skidding ten feet before she stopped. He was able to stop in two. "What's the idea?" he asked, grinning. "Trying to lose me?"

"Wishful thinking, huh?" she retorted, slipping off her helmet.

"Where are you headed?" he asked, hiking his big knapsack higher onto his back.

"Where else? Viridian. I'm going to get a few more Pokémon than what I've got."

"Probably a good idea. Mind if I tag along?"

Ivonar sighed. "Listen, Remmy," she said, glaring at him, "bad enough my mom was going to ground me if I didn't take our stupid Persian along-"

"You're starting with two Pokémon?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Well… three, actually. Char, Manx, and Nuisance."

Remmy chuckled. "Nuisance?"

"My pet Psyduck."

"Oh." He shrugged a little. "All I have is the Bulbasaur I got. I wanted the Squirtle, but Gary took that. I wonder what Ash got. There were only three pokéballs."

Ivonar shrugged a little. "I'm sure Professor Oak had something to give him," she said. "Why do you want to tag with me?"

"Two - or four, I guess - are better than one, right?" he replied. "I mean, sure, I thought you'd agree, since we'd both be starting with two Pokémon, but I guess that isn't true, huh."

"You wanted to work together?" Ivonar asked, raising an eyebrow.

Remmy rolled his eyes. "Gary's going off on his own," he said. "I mean, he couldn't possibly accept the idea of teaming up with a lower lifeform, right?" Ivonar smiled in spite of herself. "And Ash is too wrapped up in his own dream world of being a Pokémon master in a day." He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky, and sighed. "Okay, it's simple. My parents want me out. They want me gone. They say 'GO!', throw a backpack on me, and slam the door."

"What?" Ivonar demanded.

"They think I'm nuts," he said. "They think every kid wants to be a Pokémon trainer."

She frowned. "You don't?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I like Pokémon, sure, but not that much. I figure I'll stay out for a month or so, you know? Just enough to get some time away from home and out of my parent's hair, then come back and say it's too hard."

"What do you want to do?" she asked, surprised.

He shrugged. "I'm ten. I'm supposed to know now?"

Ivonar frowned a little. Remmy - a.k.a. Joey Remshaw, but everybody called him Remmy (except Mrs. Marain, who, without fail, referred to him as "that red-haired kid") - was okay as far as boys his age did - he wasn't stuck-up like Gary Oak, or, as he'd pointed out, spaced-out in dreams of grandeur, like Ash Ketchum. He was smart (every once in a while), though he tended to be too honest. And, every once in a while, he'd say something totally weird for no reason. He was tolerable, but…

"Why?" she asked.

He shrugged a little again. Then he grinned. That was another slightly strange thing about Remmy: he didn't smile. He either looked serious, or he grinned. With him, there was no in between.

"A month on my own?" he said, sounding doubtful.

"So?" she retorted. "If Gary and Ash can do it, why can't you?"

He laughed. "Gary?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, not Gary. But Ash'll be on his own. If he can do it, half-there as he is, you'll have no problem."

He sighed. "I don't want to do this," he insisted. "And I really don't want to do it alone, okay?" He held up his hands. "I am not scared."

She shook her head solemnly. "Of course not."

"I just don't want to go alone."

"I understand."

"So you won't mind?"

"Sure. No problem." Before he could grin again, she put her helmet back on and started peddling. "You just have to keep up!"