Just past the white picket fence– right beside the clear blue water. If I look out, I can see the lab in the distance from here. I'd say this place is my home, but I don't really have a home.

Shuffling around in the itchy grass, Leaf peaked out from underneath her blanket of newspapers and old, softened cardboard. Well, that's just fine– home or no home– 'cause I'm a hobo. Off in the distance, a light turned on in the lab she had been thinking of; a lab with two portrait windows and numerous portholes. For the past few days its activity had increased dramatically. For example, it was only in the morning and its professor, a man named Oak, was already up.

"Hm, coffee time," Leaf said, brushing her thick mane of hair back and traipsing down to a dead campfire by the water. Conveniently nearby were her dirty old coffee pot and chipped mug. Carefully, she lifted a pile of week-old coffee grounds from a stack of newspapers and sniffed them. They had dried and cured just enough since yesterday morning.

"Right," the girl uttered. Re-lighting the campfire, she began her morning ritual, wasting away by the water's edge and basking in smoky heat. Such was her life. It was a hobo's life.

Floating and free, she thought to herself. At last her coffee was done brewing. After pouring herself a cup, she drank the extra weak and bitter black brew. Some people might find this disgusting, but this is truly the only way for me. I don't think I want anything else.

"The cold morning air and the chilling dew on the grass. Ah," she sighed happily to herself, yanking up one of her blue legwarmers. "Nothing could ruin this beautiful morning."

But something did ruin that beautiful morning. At a little past six, the lab's rarely seen professor threw open its front door and darted outside. His grandson, yelling angrily after him, chased the old man past the unpaved street corner before giving up.

Can't keep up with an old man, can he? Leaf mused, sipping the remaining two drops in her coffee mug. Unashamedly, she stared blankly out at the professor's spiky haired grandson. She felt there was nothing wrong with this, as she was completely removed from the drama of his life– it was if she were watching a car chase on the morning news. Detached. This was what it meant to be a hobo, after all.

Sensing her staring his way, the boy turned his head. Usually, people would look away after making eye contact with an unkempt girl like Leaf, but this boy was looking for an outlet to vent his grief. In the girl before him he saw a public nuisance: a drain on society's generous pockets. To him, Leaf was an acceptable target. He began walking towards the white picket fence which walled her in.

Hm? Leaf perked up, clasping her mug tightly to absorb any of its remaining warmth. He's coming this way. Is he going to throw me some cash? Maybe I should put my hat down on the ground. Reaching the fence, the boy leaned over it, glaring at her.

"Hey." He tilted his head up, cockily asserting his authority. "Pick up your trash and go. You're ruining the view, you know?"

"I pick up at noon," she said, taking off her hobo hat. Despite her filthy life, her hat's fabric was surprisingly white and clean. She held it out toward him. "But I can leave sooner with a small donation." She smiled invincibly at him, which was probably the greatest mistake she could ever make.

The professor's son looked down at this hobo girl, frustrated by her calm and unbeatable demeanor. She was a teenager, around his age, who didn't care about how she looked– and she dared to look good while doing it, too.

"Let me get this straight," he said, grinning irritably at her. "You think you can muck up the landscape and then make me pay for it?" Frowning, the girl pulled her hat away from him.

"Hey. Hobos do a greater good. Look," she said, turning her attention to a sack full of bottles and cans behind her. "I collected these. Some of them might even be yours. Sometimes, pokemon get their feet stuck in them, so it's good to–" the boy easily reached over the fence and snagged her hat.

"Whoa, I've got the hobo girl's hat!" he taunted, waiving it around. "You probably never bathe, huh? This hat! I bet it smells awful." Eager to confirm his prediction, he stuck his nose past its brim and sniffed.

Leaf shot up to her feet, mortified by his aggressive action. To her surprise, the boy clasped the hat tightly to his face and froze in place.

The hat's scent was nothing like he expected, and likewise, nothing could have prepared him for it. Unexplainably sweet and fruity, it drew his nose in further. Sticking his nose all the way into the hat, he completely lost himself in it.

It's almost as if... I want to eat this hat, he realized horrifically. How could it smell so good? His face began burning as he considered that it just might be her pheromones.

"A–as I expected," he stammered, pulling the hat away from his face and raising it over his head. "It really does smell awful. I'll have to confiscate it."

"No! Give it back–" Leaf growled, jumping up and trying to grab it. Laughing at her, the boy capitalized on his height and tugged it far out of her reach, provoking her with his mean-spirited game.

"Too short? Heh. What a shame." He smirked foolishly. "The name's Gary Oak. You have a name too, right?"

She glared up at him fiercely, insulted by the forceful manner in which he was conducting introductions.

"Tch. Swing by the lab if you ever want to see this again, kay, hobo girl? Smell ya later!" Twirling the hat on his finger, he turned and strutted away– proud of the distress he had caused her.

Leaf crouched down beneath the fence's shadow, silently, and wild Tangela scurried and rustled through the grass behind her where she sulked. Though she wasn't one to care much for material possessions, her hat was different. It reassured her, like a shield, and it gave her the confidence to stand up for herself.

She needed that hat.

Reaching for her nearby bed of newspapers, she slid out a sheet and flattened it. Diligently, she began folding it crossways.

"Hey! Gramps! No fair!" Gary stomped, causing everyone in the lab to look his way. "What about me?"

"Be patient, Gaylord." Professor Oak coughed into his hand, addressing his grandson. "I'll give you one later."

"... Pft," a dark haired boy in a red trucker hat snickered, entertained by his prank.

"My name isn't Gaylord!" Gary blasted indignantly, noticing the dark haired boy's amusement. Turning, he grabbed him by his jacket collar. "Tch, Red! You really like toying around with gramp's dementia, huh? Well I've had enough of this, you little stinker–"

"..." Leaning close, Red blew a puff of hot air right in Gary's face.

"Ugh!" Gary yelled, shoving him away and wiping at the offended area. I swear. Ever since he turned eleven two years ago, that stinker hasn't been the same! Recovering from the surprise attack, Gary noticed another person in their presence. Standing between the lab's bookshelves was none other than the hobo girl he had bullied earlier.

Staring at him boldly, she waited, all while proudly wearing a pointy newspaper hat.

"What the," Gary pointed at her, too shocked to even laugh at its ridiculousness, "what the heck is that on your head?"

"It's my temp hat," she finally said. "I had to wear it since you stole my real one."

"What? You didn't have to wear it."

"Hm. Whatever. I came for my real hat." Leaf grew angry, walking up to Gary. "So give it back."

Glaring piercingly at the girl, he snapped around when he noticed his quieter rival reaching for the only pokeball on the professor's table. "No way!" Gary charged and interrupted, selfishly snatching it up. "Red, I want this pokemon!"

"Gaylord! What are you doing?" Professor Oak demanded.

"Gramps, I want this one!" Gary cried, grief-stricken by the fact that his own grandpa still didn't remember his name.

"But I... Oh, all right then. That pokemon is yours. I was going to give you one anyway..." Oak trailed, pulling a pokeball from his lab coat's pocket. "Red, come over here."

"..." Silent as usual, Red scooted away from the table and stopped to gaze mysteriously at Leaf.

Is he going to throw some cash at me? she wondered, taking off her hat. Should I hold my hat out? Her hobo ways seldom changed, even in domestic settings. Taking a backwards glance at Gary, Red lumbered forward and rested his dark head on Leaf's shoulder, followed by his dead weight.

What is he doing? Leaf panicked, feeling her knees buckling under his weight. Though he was the shorter of the two boys in the room, he was still taller and heavier than her.

He snored lightly, taking a quick snooze at her expense.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Gary demanded, inexplicably angry. "You can't just ignore my gramps and then harass my hobo!"

"... ... ..." Red didn't appear to say anything to Gary, but the pure silence riled the obnoxious rival up nevertheless.

"I'll make you eat those words." Gary threatened fatally.

"I think he's just tired. Maybe he's nocturnal?" Leaf suggested, managing to hold Red upright. "Cut him some slack."

"I'll cut you some slack!" Gary threatened arbitrarily before turning to Professor Oak. "Hey, gramps. Fix her up with a pokemon, too, right? I'm gonna make her work for once in her life."

"But it seems I... don't have any more pokemon left," Oak said, leaning on his computer desk and clicking at his ancient mouse. "Hmm, not in this box, either. Did I give them all away already? I can't remember..."

"Gramps!"

"Oh, calm down! I have just the solution." Oak waived his hand to dismiss his grandson. "Put Red on the table and we'll go."

Listening to the old man, Leaf dragged the strange sleeping boy halfway across the floor before Gary butted in and grabbed him by his jacket collar. With all his strength, he slung Red onto the table like a frozen bird.

"That oughtta do it. Now let's get going." Gary fidgeted and pointed toward the door.

"I just want my hat back." Leaf stubbornly shook her head. "Why go through all this?"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? Heh. I'm gonna make you work." He arrogantly tilted his head back. "With a pokemon battle."

"You mean... I have to battle you for my hat?" she asked, wondering if his suggestion was for real. The premise alone was incredibly absurd.

"That's right. Is it so hard to believe?"

"No. It's not only that. It's also that you went and assumed that I had no pokemon."

"But you don't, do you?" He was right on this point, and they both knew it. Leaf was unaware of the fact that the boy had been casually observing her from the lab for the past week. If hobos could watch people in detachment, people could watch them right back.

"You two, follow me," Professor Oak said, leading them through the lab and back outside. Down the way he took them, eventually stopping at the picket fence by Leaf's campsite. "I remember seeing some rare pokemon here..." The professor shielded his eyes from the bright afternoon sun.

"You're right. There's a nest of Tangela here," Leaf explained. "They're finicky around strangers, though, so you have to sit still for them to appear."

"Well, it seems you're quite familiar with them! And you're not in possession of one already?"

"None. I actually don't have any pokemon."

"We'll change that soon enough," Oak huffed, struggling to climb over the short little fence.

"Gramps, take it easy! You're gonna pull your hip out," Gary complained, grabbing his grandfather's arms.

"Let go of me!" the professor snapped. "Who are you?...!"

"It's me! Gary! Your grandson!"

"Oh, yes yes. I remember now." Oak retreated from the fence, pulling his leg back over it. "You're a spry youngling, Gary, go over there and catch her a Tangela." He handed Gary a handful of spare pokeballs.

"Tch. Fine, whatever," Gary grumped, easily hopping over the fence. Silently he glanced around, all before looking back at Leaf and smirking. "You watching, hobo girl? This is how a pro catches pokemon. Pay attention, and make sure you pick up on some of my mad skills."

"Mad skills?" Leaf repeated. It's been seven years since I've heard anyone use that term. She stared off into space, trying to make sense of his outdated slang.

"Alright! Come to papa." Gary gritted his teeth, watching the grass shake in anticipation. Out flapped a common pidgey, ruining the impressive moment. "Dang it!"

"Keep on trying, Gaylord," Oak said.

"It's GARY."

Another half hour passed with similar results. Growing tired and drowsy from the heat, Professor Oak bumbled away, but only after being pestered by his grandson to do so.

"Go, go! You'll get heatstroke and die or something." Gary waived the old man away.

"Oh my, it's tea time at Daisy's." Oak hurried.

"Tch! So you still remember my big sis's name, huh?" Gary crankily blasted the old man for the injustice. "Huh?" He looked down and noticed Leaf crouching at his feet. "What are you doing down there, hobo girl?"

"Calling the Tangela," she said. "Since you're scaring them off with your loudness."

"Heh. They're just intimidated by my girth, is all." He pompously held his nose up.

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing." She took off her temporary newspaper hat. Wouldn't that mean you're fat?

"Well you do your thing, and I'll do mine. Heh." In a conceited display, he pocketed his hands and leaned back as far as humanly possible.

And so, Leaf got on her hands and knees and lowered herself flat against the grass. Her brown tangled hair draped over her face as she stuck her nose into the hidden soil. Gary snickered as he watched her, saying something derogatory to make fun of her efforts:

"Have you ever heard of a brush? I guess that's why you need that hat back."

Ignoring him, she shook her head, loudly flopping her hair about. As strange as an action as this was, it was successful in that it attracted a whole horde of Tangela. Rushing from the nearby thicket, they peeked out meekly– their vine-like hair feeling all around for the source of the sound.

"Get over here, you little weed smackers!" Gary yelled at them, causing most of them to retreat back.

"No, no! You have be quieter." Leaf held her head in anguish. She was starting to feel that she would never see her hat again.

"Whatever. Cowards be cowards. Heh." Gary crossed his arms.

Leaf was about ready to jump kick him in the face.

But bravely, one single, determined Tangela leapt out. Shrieking and flailing its blue vines wildly, it moved its tiny feet and charged across the grass.

"Aw, it's so cute," Leaf commented, much to Gary's disdain.

"Cute? That thing's about as cute as a Dewgong's floating ball of dung–" the Tangela jumped up and latched onto his face. "Argh! Get it off! ...Uncle!"

"What are you doing? Hurry up and catch it."

"Nads! It's on my face, in case you haven't noticed!"

"Right, I guess it can't be helped," Leaf said, reaching up and prying away the feisty ball of vines. With short sounding pops, the creature's vines easily detached, leaving the fleshy extensions wrapped loosely around Gary's face.

"That's it! It just got real," he complained, pulling the vines from his face with determination. Whipping out his newly acquired pokeball, he threw down, releasing the monster held within. "Go! Eevee!"

"Eevee? ...That's a palindrome." Leaf mused.

"Be quiet and pay attention!" Gary demanded seriously. "Unlike that noob Red, I've been working with my gramps for years... I know how to catch pokemon. First, you weaken them... Eevee, tackle attack it!" Mewling loudly, Eevee charged forward and slammed into Tangela, sending it rolling like a tumbleweed. "Again!" Obeying Gary's commands, Eevee slammed into the creature once more, causing the mass of weeds to pant and spin dizzily.

"Huh? Is that all?" Leaf asked, somewhat interested.

"No! Next is the final step." Gary took out a spare pokeball. "Now to chuck a blank pokeball at its unfortunate noggin."

"Wow. You are skilled."

"Heh. Of course," he announced, oblivious to her patronizing tone. Winding back his arm, he pitched and sent the ball whirling. Smacking into Tangela, it exploded open and sucked the creature inside before landing on the ground. Standing in place, Gary watched the ball's twitching movements intensely. "And now, you have to watch to see if the ball breaks open. If so, repeat step 3 or try to put the booger to sleep or something."

"Hm? Why can't you just take the ball and hold it shut?"

"You seriously wanna try that? You'll break your arms off!"

At last the pokeball stopped moved. Grinning victoriously, Gary snatched it up and tossed it into the air. Moving back, he caught it easily– spinning it on his finger to show off his dexterity. "Uh huh. That's how it's done. Heads up." He threw the pokeball into her hands.

"Uah," she muttered, fumbling to hold the capsule close. Looking at its shiny surface, a powerful feeling enveloped her. My very own pokemon, huh? Will it stay with me forever?

"Welp, I've got a whelp to beat," Gary said, stretching his arms up over his head. "Get a handle on your pokemon and come by my house later. It's the big one behind the lab, can't miss it. I'll be waiting, hobo girl. Be smelling ya." He strutted away.

Leaf frowned at his back, uncertain of whether to be thankful or vindictive. At the end of this, I'll have more than just my hat back... she realized. Looking down at her pokeball, she fought to keep from smiling. "Yeah. Now I have another mouth to worry about feeding."

~To be continued...~

Why the heck am I writing about a hobo? ...