Whozawhatcha
i have too many projects
Hey so I've been writing a thing for a while that's basically just an excuse to be as saccharine and as southern as possible. Are we still in Galar? Or are we in deep Antebellum South? THE WORLD MAY NEVER KNOW.
Anyways. This is a Wooloo Nuzlocke! Where I only used Wooloo! Because wynaut, am I right? Just your basic nuzlocke, catch a full team, name 'em, if one dies, it's boxed. That's it.
Remember how I wrote GitM? No rules, just fun and write? This is the same! But like, complete opposite tone from GitM, but just as lazily-fun written. What plot? What antagonists? We're here for lovey-dovey stupid cute stuff and nothing else. This is INDULGENT and SACCHARINE shit and very much for fun. (I swear I'm working on REAL projects, I am, I'll post one of them eventually.)
Happy Valentine's Day! If you would like something that's basically just a cutesy, sweet, romantic, following-the-tropes easy read, this is gonna be it for you. I'm going to post the first and second chapter because you all need to be able to meet the love interests first thing. The slogan for the run is, "Why have a love triangle when it could be a threesome?" The other slogan for the run is, "By god, if I turned myself into a Milo of Turffield stan, then I'm taking you all down with me!"
Rating is K? Or E for everyone?? (Most likely there will be some "Mature" for "Bad Touching" entries that will not be posted here, so you'll have to bug me for those installments.)
I’m carding wool with my grandmother when the letter comes in.
We’re really the only house that sits out on Route 1. Our road is called Woolwich Way, an old dirt road that’s off the beaten path between Postwick and Wedgehurst. Named, of course, for the herds of wooloo that live on our lands and the old wool factory. The only mail we get are bills, solicitors, and old fashioned people who don’t know how to contact me online for a commission.
So when a letter comes in from the Pokemon League, stamped for me, our mailman is enthusiastic that I open it now, before he leaves.
“Bonnie, it’s been ages since you were in school out in Motostoke, wasn’t it?” he asks. James has run mail for us for ages, so he know my grandparents and always notices when he delivers something different. It’s either the blessing of small town folks, or a curse. “Do they want you back out on the gym track?”
My grandmother leans forward, eyes shooting up. “Is that an endorsement letter?” Her face pinches up with a shrewd smile, and she wags a finger at me. “I knew you would get back out there! Who endorsed you? When did you sneak off to do this?”
For a moment, I stare at the letter. Because this is ridiculous. I didn’t think he was serious. “I didn’t,” I tell Mamaw. I look away from our lumps of wool and out to the fields where my sheep are—separate from the masses we harvest wool from in the factories. My favorites, all handpicked over my time here.
The Unbeatable Champion Leon Wright, the “Wright Man For The Job!” Leon, who hands out one endorsement a year.
Impressed by a sheepherder.
James checks his watch, hefts the bag on his shoulder and glances back at his truck. “Well?” he says. “Open it!”
I do. The peanut gallery is craning their necks like swanna to get a look at the paper. The nut job has signed off on a gym endorsement for me, allowing me, for the first time in years, to again pursue my old dream of taking the gym challenge.
I laugh and show James the letter, who immediately congratulates me and fawns. He hands it to Mamaw who coos, asking, “How did you do this, Bonnie? That’s MY girl! Endorsed by the Unbeatable Champion! Oh, where’s Chuck? Lassie!” Our herdier perks up and leaps to her feet. “Go fetch Chuck for me, he has to hear this!” Lassie barks and rushes off towards the farmhouse, and my grandmother smiles at me, all the lines of her years smiling with her. “Bonnie, fess up, dearie. How did you get endorsed again?”
I shake my head, and I say, “I was just doing my job! A pack of thievul came from the forest for my sheep, so I ran them off!” I wave my hand and pick up my carding tools and continue to comb through the knotted wool. “Everyone knows Champion Leon is horrible with directions, so he somehow ended up out this way instead of at home. He thought it was impressive that I ran off a pack of thievul with nothing but my wooloo, Lassie, and the Matron.” Out in our fenced in yard is about a dozen wooloo, and the Matron, Mamaw’s dubwool. “It wasn’t anything special.”
“Special enough to catch the Champion’s eye,” Mamaw says. She picks up her carding tools and joins me in combing through the wool. “It’s no mean feat, protecting all of the little ones from the wild pokemon. You should be proud!”
“You’re going to accept, aren’t you?” James asks. He’s shuffling backwards, knowing he needs to get back on the road to make his deliveries on time. I wave him off.
“Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Not the answer I wanted to hear!” he says. He waves when he gets in the truck though. “Come on, Bonnie! I expect to see you on the big screen! That’s an endorsement from the Unbeatable Champion! You can’t refuse!”
I roll my eyes and wave. The mail truck pulls away, and Lassie goes rocketing after him, barking up a storm. Behind us, I hear Papaw holler, “What! What is it? What did I miss? Lassie was impatient!”
Mamaw stands up to meet him on the path, and I furiously work at small pieces of wool. I always knew Leon was a ditz, but this really takes the cake. He endorsed me on a whim because he got lost and saw me fight thievul. I’m sure he looked up my track record, jogged his memory about who I even am, but that was ages ago. Long gone are the days where Leon swore I was going to be his rival. (Sonia, taller, prettier, richer, ended up taking that position when I bowed out of the gym challenge.) Maybe he’s riding a high on nostalgia.
“Well, you’re going to do it, aren’t you?” I look up, and I see Papaw, short and nothing but skin and bones with his cane. His face pinches up in a smile. “I always told you to try again, Bonnie! This is your chance!”
“Oh Papaw,” I say. I throw more combed wool on my pile. “That was ages ago! I’m grown now. I have a job, and I like it out here. I can’t just leave the farm!”
“Oh yes you can,” he says under no circumstances. He jabs his cane at me. “You’ve used the farm as an excuse for too long, young lady. First you dropped out because of me, and then we had the bad season with the thievul. You dropped out the year Mamaw got pneumonia. Refused to try to get endorsed the year I was down in my back.” He raps my knuckles with his cane when I don’t stop working. I look up at him with warm cheeks, and he accuses, “How long are you going to keep putting off your life for us?”
I fiddle my fingers. “I’m not.”
“Are too.” Mamaw gangs up on me with him. “You went to school to be a journalist, and now where are you? Helping us at the farm.” She huffs and scraps at the wool. “You’ve been stopping everything for us. Don’t you want a chance to go on this journey? This is the third time you’ve been endorsed, and you know what they say: third time’s the charm.”
I look out on my little herd of wooloo and sigh. I was at the top of my class with Leon back in the day. I know I could have went far, even with only a normal and grass type pokemon license. I owe the Yarrow’s, long-standing owners of the Turffield gym, for giving me the discount on the grass licensing process. The old leader was the first to endorse me. Milo was the second.
My mind drifts with the waxen dreams of my youth. I buff them shiny in my thoughts, testing out what a thrill it might be to officially dynamax, to finally have my chance to prove myself. Wouldn’t it be something to get out on the track for once? Papaw isn’t sick. Mamaw is in stellar health too. I’ve just been on the farm for so long I’m not sure how well I’d do anymore.
But Leon is still impressed with my battling, and he’s been the reigning Champion for ten years now, undefeated. There has to be merit in that.
“I think it’s high time you put yourself first,” Papaw says to me. He smiles at me, and his brown eyes are rich with warmth. “After all, I’d be right proud to see my girl winning that gym challenge.”
My heart flutters at the thought. I give him a shy smile. “You think I could do it?”
“I know you could.”
Mamaw reaches over and slaps my arm good naturedly. “Not to mention, the first gym is Milo.”
I groan and flop back in my picnic chair. “MAMAW.”
“I’m just saying, the boy’s got a good head on his shoulders, heart of gold, and my how he’s filled out. Handsome lad, Bonnie,” and she waves her carding comb. “You’d be remiss letting him slip away again.”
I flush. It’s no secret who Mamaw’s wanted me to marry all these years. “That was ages ago, Mamaw. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”
She tuts her tongue. “I’m just saying.” She winks at Papaw. “A very eligible boy, that one.”
Papaw nods thoughtfully. “I’d let him carry me bridal style.”
“PAPAW!”
I decide to do it for a multitude of reasons. The major reason is my grandparents won’t let me NOT do it.
The other reason is that I do crave it. After being stuck on a farm all my life, my wanderlust has reached it’s zenith. Going to school in Motosoke before my first endorsement were the peak years of my life where I saw new things, tried new things, and met new people. The gym challenge gives me the perfect chance to see the region.
The last reason is I want to prove myself. Who doesn’t want to see how far they can go up the gym challenge? I want to be one of the ones to make it to the Champion Cup. I know I could do it. I’ve always been talented enough for this, and my babies are talented. I’ll take them as far as I can, and if I need to switch up my team later, I can. But for now, I walk out onto the pasture where my sheep are to pick who should go with me.
They bleat in the springtime sun, freshly sheared less than a month ago now with new fuzz on their bodies. I click my tongue, catching their attention. “Come here, everyone!” The Matron stays sitting, lazily munching on grass, but her children all race up to me. Lassie does too, and I have to shoo her off so she quits chasing the wooloo about.
“Okay babies,” I tell them. “I’m going to fight on the gym circuit. We’re going to conquer gyms, do all that cool stuff. Who wants to come with me?”
Several back away. Several scream at me, head butting me, and I laugh, wading through a sea of clouds.
“Okay, Blanche! Calm down, I’ll take you with me! You too, Dawson, you brave little boy.” I scrunch his cheeks and nuzzle my forehead to him. “You’ll have to take less naps though. We have to train hard, right?” He nibbles at my hand, and I rub his back. “Who else? Oh, Dottie!” I shove her face away when she forces her way to the front. “Oh no, you’re too sweet, Dottie! What if something happened to you?” She butts at my knees, and I smile. “You’re so little, sweetie, are you sure? If you change your mind about battling, I can always send you back home.” Dottie is insistent, and she hops, kicking her feet. “Yes! Okay, we have three! I need three more!”
The rest of the herd shuffles uncertainly. The crisp spring breeze pulls at my skirt, and I’m thankful for the fleece sweater I’m wearing. I should have slipped some tights on. I survey my sheep, thinking of the thievul battle we all skirted out of without a casualty. I look at my little wooloo that’s horn is already cocked out and growing crooked. “Henrietta? Do you think you could come with us? You noticed the foxes first. I’d love to have someone smart like you with us.”
She skirts about, clearly hesitating, and I say, “It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s good to be careful about things.” I survey my others. Some have backed off, but some still linger. “The Champion was impressed with all of you, so I’d like to take you on the circuit, at least for a little bit. Gloria? Do you think you could come with us? You’re very strong and defensive. I think that would be helpful.”
Gloria bucks up when I single her out. She plants her front hooves and gives a vicious “Baa!” I can still see the thievul’s teeth marks raked down her hindquarter where she barely escaped.
When Gloria chooses to come, Henrietta—not to be outdone by her sister—bleats and pushes in front of her. I laugh, pull on their stubby horns and say, “Okay you two! Be nice, we’re a team now!”
Last, after a bunch of shuffling back and forth, I see Atticus. A longer tail than the rest of them, it swishes when he plods up. I coo, “Oh, what a dear, are you sure, Atticus?” He shies away uncertainly, my scared baby boy, and then he gives a big, firm nod. I rub his nose. “Aw, thank you, Atticus.” I stand up and smile at them. “Looks like we’ve got our team! Wish us luck, Mama?”
The Matron lifts her head and bleats, warm and low. Whatever she says, it’s good encouragement for my little wooloo herd, because they all start talking up a storm and skittering around me. I laugh, and holler, “Okay, stick together! Mamaw’s got pokeballs for you all, so let’s go!”
I use my shepherd’s crook to separate the herd from one another. Lassie helps round up the ones who are staying near the Matron, and I lead the rest of them up the hill to the house. The group briefly freaks out when I catch Gloria in a pokeball—they’ve never seen it before, I can’t blame them—and once every sheep is accounted for, we label their pokeballs with their initial. We differentiate Dawson and Dottie’s by putting “Dot” on hers.
Endorsement was two weeks ago. We’ve got about one more week before the opening gym ceremony. But first, I release my sheep for a long walk this morning down the dirt road to Postwick. I use my shepherd’s stick to make sure they stay on the path. It’s sunny and breezy, and the day should warm comfortably despite the early spring season. Today, I get to meet Hop, the Champion’s younger brother.
The last time I saw Leon’s little brother was ten years ago when his mother was holding him during the match that got Leon endorsed by Chairman Rose. Leon called my house to arrange our meeting. He wants Hop to have a rival, and he figured since he endorsed us both that we would push each other. I agreed, for lack of reason to say no. The only thing I know about Hop is he has nearly as many type licenses as Leon, and there’s been talk of if the only one to topple Leon’s regime will be his younger brother.
My small rabble of friends I hang out with are begging me to get Leon’s number for them. The best I could do is laugh and tell them if I actually got the Champion’s number, I’d hawk it to the highest bidder.
When I reach Postwick, I return my sheep so I don’t clutter the streets. It’s easy to navigate the small town, and easier to find the Wright residence—given it’s the only two story, plus-an-attic mansion in town. Leon has a very nice paycheck that he likes to spend on his mother.
Two purple heads are in the yard. One much younger and one much more handsome. I draw in a breath. Fine, he’s as pretty as they say he is, I’m grown enough to admit it. Doesn’t mean Leon’s head isn’t in the clouds and as full of just as much cotton.
Hop shouts when he sees me. “Hey!” He waves his hand to gesture me closer, so I walk onto the large yard. I spy the backyard battlefield, and I realize quickly what I’m in for. “You’ve got to be Bonnie Howard! Lee’s been talking about you!”
“Hey, Bonnie!” They greet me with the same big grin that crinkles up their eyes. Leon’s wearing that gaudy Champion’s outfit, but it’s mostly the tacky sponsorship cape that’s doing him in. The spandex hugs him all too tightly, so I focus on Hop.
“Hello,” I say, and I try not to be bashful. I wave at Leon, who beams, and I say to the teen, “You must be Hop.”
“That’s me!” Hop lifts his chin, and at full height, he’s already taller than me. He’ll likely be as tall as his brother, who dwarfs my five foot two. “Lee said you ran off a hoard of thievul with nothing but wooloo! I can’t believe it!”
Okay, now I’m embarrassed. “He’s telling you tall tales,” I say, waving my free hand and downplaying it so Hop doesn’t act like I’m the best thing since sliced bread. “I had a dubwool and herdier helping me! Honest, it wasn’t that great.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Leon cuts in. He smiles grandly, and talks me up by saying, “You had to be there, Hop! That many thievul and she didn’t lose a single sheep? That’s good battling! Did you know I used to know Bonnie?”
I groan. “Leon—”
Ten years of not knowing each other doesn’t put a dent in Leon’s glee and Hop’s starry eyes. “Bonnie here gave me a run for my money back in the day! Did you know I was going to make her my rival?”
Hop gapes. I’m flushed so bright I’m sure I’m glowing at this point. “You were going to be my brother’s rival?” He grins. “Yes! You’re going to be the greatest rival ever!”
“Leon, that’s not true!” I frown at him, and I lean on my shepherd’s crook. “Don’t act like Sonia wasn’t always going to be your rival!”
“Only since you dropped out,” Leon says. He’s still smiling. My anger washes over him like water on an oiled surface. “You’ve dropped out of the gym circuit twice, Bonnie, and I can’t let you do it again!”
I groan and slap my palm to my face. “Maybe . . .” I mumble. I’m good, but I really doubt I’m as good as Leon is talking me up to be. I fought well against Leon back in the day, but he always beat me. Not sure that’s really rival material. Hard to beat a charmander when you’re fighting with a wooloo and grass types. Sonia had more type licenses than I did, so she could always put up a better fight.
“For certain,” Leon corrects me. He grins at Hop. “You two are going to be great rivals! I hope you push each other to become stronger and learn from one another. Now, how about you two show me a champion battle!”
There it is. Hop leaps to attention, exploding, “All right! I’ve got two, Bonnie, what about you? Can we do a two on two?”
I nod. “Sure we can.”
He puts a fist out to me. “Wooloo buddies.”
I bump his fist with mine. “Wooloo buddies,” I agree.
The battle is remarkably short, as young pokemon battles are wont to be. (They don’t have the kind of endurance to have a long battle yet.) I lead with Gloria who takes down Hop’s wooloo. (His name is Snowball.) His scorbunny forces our retreat, and I switch to Dawson.
Hop’s scorbunny has Ember. All three of us find out very quickly that Dawson is extremely flammable since he’s Fluffy, so the battle ends for me in defeat with three pairs of hands frantically patting Dawson’s flaming wool out.
Hop looks at me sideways. “So you’re really going to try to do this with a herd of sheep? No offense, but that seems really limiting. How are you going to counter fighting types?”
My preconceptions of the wild area was that it would be: big, beautiful, and full of predators that want to eat my wooloo. It proved to be just that, so I haven’t let my sheep out except for Gloria. She’s bleating with uncertainty, staying very close to my heels.
“Well, Leon endorsed me mostly because of my stunt with my wooloo,” I tell him. “So, I guess regardless of what happens, I want to take them as far up the track as I can. If it’s too hard, I can always send them back home.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Hop tells me. I draw shapes in the dirt with my stick, and Hop stokes the fire again. The nights out here are still cold since the wind is broken only by the tent we’ve been sharing. “I hope you can get past Milo’s gym with them. It’d be really cool to be able to say you got a gym badge with nothing but wooloo. That’d be bragging rights.”
I smile. I draw a cloud in the dirt and add legs to it. “You think so? Is that really bragging rights? Sounds like a person who just likes wooloo too much.”
“With good reason! Wooloo are great!” Snowball looks up and bleats at Hop; Gloria bleats at Snowball; Snowball talks back, and I hitch the crook of my staff around Gloria’s hindquarter when she charges.
“Be nice, Gloria!”
I pull her back to me, and Hop laughs. “She’s got a lot of fight in her, that’s all! That’ll be good spirit to have out on the gym track. But yeah, it’s TOTALLY bragging rights! People don’t walk into the gym challenge without coverage! Even with a single type license, you can go really far with covering your weaknesses by building your team up proper.” Hop cranes his neck abruptly, and I watch his eyes narrow at his scorbunny. The rabbit is full of so much energy it hasn’t stopped running since it was let out, but it must swerve back within the bounds Hop set because he relaxes again.
“I’m just saying,” Hop says, and he plops next to the fire. “It’s totally bragging rights to beat a gym with a team of all one pokemon species.” He snickers. “Man, imagine the look on Lee’s face when he finds out you’re trying to take a herd of sheep on this thing!”
I finish drawing my wooloo in the dirt. I knock Gloria’s front and gesture to it with my staff. “Hey look. It’s you.” She bleats, and she pounds her hooves in the dirt. She draws something, and I judge by the very bad stick figure that—“Oh is that me? Oh you shouldn’t have, Gloria! It’s beautiful! You. Are. An. ARTIST.”
She hikes up her chin as if she’s outdone me, and I let her believe it. I shiver against a chill wind as the evening sets deep, and I ask, “What if I trounced the first TWO gyms with my herd?” He looks at me in shock, and I wiggle my brows with a shark-like grin. “Look, wooloo evolve early, right? I think a bunch of dubwool could last against the second gym too, right?”
Hop laughs with impish delight. “PLEASE crush Nessa with a bunch of sheep. I’m BEGGING you. She would FREAK. Have you seen the way she loses?”
I smile, thinking of her hair-rending freak outs. “That might be cruel. She’d never live it down.” Look, I want her to like me, not resent me.
“But it’d be so fun to watch.” Hop pulls out his rotom phone, tapping away as he pulls up the live stream of Leon and Raihan’s exhibition match. “I bet you could do it. You’d probably have to find some coverage for Kabu though, I hear he’s killer. They call him The Firewall for a reason,” and he grins while he says that terrible pun.
We settle by our campfire, our sheep behind us to block the wind and act as cushions. Hop returns his haywire scorbunny, as the exhibition match winds up to start. I pull yarn from my pack and ask Hop, “Hey, want me to make you a scarf?”
“Whoa! Really?” He sits up straight, looking at the yarn I’ve got stuffed in my pack. “Yeah I want a scarf! Can it have a wooloo on it?”
“Sure thing,” I tell him. I rifle in the pack. “What color do you want it to be?”
“Red!”
I think of his admiration of his brother. “You want gold edges on it too?”
“Absolutely!”
I settle down to crochet his scarf while we watch the exhibition match. You know how almost all of the girls of the region have a crush on the Unbeatable Champion? With good reason, for sure. But I was never the girl with a poster of Leon Wright in my room. Unfortunately, my tastes ran . . . Mh, darker, you could say. And taller.
Raihan Garrick is just as pretty as he’s always been, but unfortunately, he’s grown up from a sweet boy who learned from his losses to a stuck-on-himself superstar. Even in battle, he can’t put that phone down. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone more self-absorbed.
If I don’t like Leon because his head is full of cotton, I can’t stand Raihan because his head is full of himself. I took his poster off my wall years ago. It’s helpful to get over childhood crushes, especially celebrity crushes.
(We’re not going to talk about who currently decorates my wall, nope, I am over celebrity crushes, I swear.)
Hop’s so enthusiastic about the battle it’s hard to see the screen sometimes when he jerks it. Still, we both know Leon’s not going to lose. This will mark Raihan’s tenth battle losing to him.
When Leon backs this battle into a corner, the camera pans in close on Raihan’s fierce snarl. I frown in annoyance.
How come it’s always the jerks who are so pretty? I sympathize with the endless girls and boys that are in love with Leon. Better a dumb himbo with a good heart to crush on instead of an egocentric ladies man.
I feel vindicated when Raihan loses. Serves the idiot right.
Hop wants to stay in the wild area longer than I do, so we split apart halfway through the week. It’s a relief, honestly, because I like Hop, but he and his scorbunny are too much energy for me. I make it to Motostoke City two days before the opening ceremony. The city glitters with lights and bustles with activity, but when I taste the smog on the air, it’s definitely the part I don’t miss.
I stay in the Pokemon Center a night, having friendly battles with a few trainers that want to practice. Things are touch and miss with my herd—seems like others trained a bit harder in the wild area than I did—but people are friendly and like Gloria and Dawson. They ask me what other kind of pokemon I’m going to catch, and I tell them I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to keep an eye out for what kinds of pokemon would flesh my team out better if I plan on going far.
The next day, I pull my endorsement letter out of my pack. There’s a small schedule included: check in at the Budew Drop Inn, when to meet in the Motostoke Stadium locker rooms, release for break and to prepare for the formal dining and meeting event. Supposedly, it’s a chance to meet and greet with the gym leaders and your fellow trainers, and if you’re gunning to topple a gym leader, a place to network. I’m just hoping to leave it with some more friends. What would a pokemon journey be without some friends, right?
So I spend my day shopping the Motosoke boutiques. I’m so short it’s hard to find dresses that flatter me. My old prom dress doesn’t fit anymore—my butt’s too big for it—so I’m on the hunt for a new one. My old sparkly gray sandals will service just fine for shoes. I’m set on something that will flatter my butt since I don’t dress up often, but unluckily, that doesn’t seem to be the style anymore. Most of the skirts are short, flared ones that I’m sure I’ll flash people in.
I end up picking a blush pink dress. Floor length, lace, a touch deeper v-neck than I’d like, but you know what? It’s cute, I’m not going to trip in it, and it’s comfortable. The only way it could possibly be improved is with pockets.
Registration for the gym challenge is surprisingly easy. I show them the letter, fill out some paperwork (mostly disclaimers on pokemon death still being possible in such a grueling challenge) and receive my dynamax band. They size it for my tiny wrist too.
I try to pick 831 as my jersey number before I remember Milo owns the number. I bite my lip in annoyance and pick 832 instead. Fine, I can’t have wooloo’s pokedex number as my jersey number, so dubwool will have to do. I spend the rest of my day doing my nails, crocheting Hop’s scarf, and stressing over the opening ceremony.
I mean, how bad could it be? Mill around, eat rich people food, and they’ll probably have wine or champagne. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fun.
I’m viscerally reminded I haven’t been in the spotlight in ten years. Stepping out onto the pitch? In the bright white floodlights that blind you? In front of hundreds of thousands of cheering people? I hear the strains of, Just a small town girl! Living in a lonely world! when I stand out there in that ugly matching gym uniform with everyone else. Without my shepherd’s staff, I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I end up fiddling with my shorts, trying to disappear from the cameras.
The day is a dreary, Galarian rainy day. The domed top of the arena is closed up.
Standing on the pitch added ten years of life to Hop. It drained ten years from me. Maybe gym battling was a mistake, you know? At max, I live with two people in my life, and that’s my grandparents. I’m not used to the attention.
So because I’m already a mess of nerves, when I enter a sparkly ballroom with finger foods and drinks lining the walls and a bunch of strangers, my first thought is, Oh no. Almost all the girls are wearing short dresses. I’m wearing a floor length. This was formal, right? Formal means floor length, we’re in a ballroom, why did no one tell me I was supposed to wear a short prom-like dress?
I stay close to the sides, away from the well-dressed masses and praying my short height hides me. I nibble at a chocolate cupcake in the corner, and I wish I had my staff. I bet I could herd these people out of my way just like they’re sheep. Instead, I stare at the pillars holding up the room, the extravagantly painted ceiling, and crystal chandeliers. The more I people watch, the more I realize I’m the only girl not wearing heels. I’m the only one not decked out in make up. The other girls are jangling with jewelry—I’m wearing the single tear-drop pearl necklace and earrings I got for my sixteenth birthday.
Oh no. I do not belong here. How am I both overdressed in a floor length gown and under-dressed without proper makeup and heels? What am I doing here? I have no idea how any of this works. Where’s Hop? He’s the only one I know. I stand on my toes and crane my head. It’s impossible for me to see anything around people, but it’s easy to tell where people are flocking: Raihan’s got a slew of fans around him, all clucking like pigeons as he takes selfies and pictures with them. Two-faced jerk. I assume Hop is buried in the flock of girls and boys crowding around Leon, but it’s impossible to tell.
Fine. All alone with a cupcake wrapper and I don’t know where the nearest trash can is. Shit. I’m an idiot. Maybe I should go home now—
“Bonnie? That you?”
My savior is only a few inches taller than me, but twice as wide. I deflate when I see Milo approach, and he’s got a broad, sweet smile on his face and two glasses of something white and sparky in his hands.
“Milo,” I say. He proffers the drink to me, so I take it from him. Then we shake hands, and my gods his palm is massive and swallows my hand whole.
“Nervous?” he says amicably. “I’m the same in a place packed with folks like this. That’ll help relax you.” His gaze softens as he looks me up and down. “Well, don’t you look pretty as a peach. Don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress before.”
“It’s new,” I say. I turn the glass in my hands and watch the liquid swirl. I’m painfully aware of hunching my shoulders, so I try to smooth them out. “I don’t own too many dresses, so it’s nice to have a reason to dress up.” I take a nervous sip, looking at the way his arms are nearly bursting from his suit coat. Okay, so Mamaw is right. Milo has filled out very nicely, and he’s still as nice as ever. He hasn’t changed at all. Maybe she’s right, I should just marry him and settle down herding wooloo with him.
“You look nice too,” I offer.
His face pinches up with delight. “Thank you! Like you said, it’s good to have a reason to dress up,” and he tips a stylish hat to me. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says, and he drops his pitch, leaning in, “but I sneaked out of wearing a tie with the scarf.”
My eyes alight on his green ascot with little applin embroidered into it. “Your secret’s safe with me, just as long as you don’t tell anyone I’m wearing flats.”
Milo laughs, and it’s warm, boisterous laughter that fills the room. Heads turn, and I flush, suddenly wondering if my dress is cut too low. “Are you excited about the gym challenge?” he asks me. “You looked like a wooloo in headlights out on the pitch.”
My thoughts turn inward to my knotted stomach. “I’m starting to regret this already, honestly,” I tell him.
“Oh no you don’t,” he says. “You done bowed out twice before, Bonnie! I know you’re good enough for this.” He gives me a shrewd smile, and he lifts his brow. “What, my endorsement wasn’t good enough for you? Only the Champion actually gets you out on the pitch?”
I flush and pat my straightened hair down, making sure it’s still tucked in it’s low braid. “That’s not it at all, Milo. Papaw went down in his back that year. I needed to stay home and help on the farm.”
“I understand,” Milo says, and I hear in his voice that he does. I drink on my wine, thankful that at least someone here can understand something about the farm life. “I think this is your year, though,” he says to me. He smiles, tiny nose wrinkling up and freckles sprayed across his face. “Leon doesn’t give out endorsements lightly, so for him to give you one when he already gave one to Hop is a big deal. I won’t have you backing out this time. If something happens out at the farm this year, I’ll make sure to go down there and help out personally if it keeps you on the gym track.”
Yes, yes I’m blushing very hot now. I wave my free hand and shake my head, blurting, “Milo, you don’t have to—”
“You have a friend, Milo?” I look over, and oh gods, there she is. Nessa, gym leader, supermodel—my current crush, please don’t look at the poster on my wall—and she’s towering over me in a pair of sparkling pumps and an equally sparkling dress, looking like the little mermaid stepped onto land. She smiles. I blink stars from my eyes. “Hello,” she says. “My name is Nessa Lulina. Oh!” I see acknowledgment rise in her eyes. “I know you! You’re Bonnie Howard! Milo endorsed you! How many years ago was that, Milo?”
I take her hand, trembling so hard I’m going to spill my wine. Milo tells her, “Oh, that was five years ago now. I thought we’d never get her out on the gym circuit!”
“You’ll have to thank Leon for that,” Nessa says with a wink. Milo frowns.
“Not on your life! I endorsed Bonnie first. Turffield Gym has endorsed her TWICE and now he’s come to steal the glory of who my family has had confidence in all this time? No, I’ll support this wildflower, but I’m not letting Leon take all the prestige for endorsing this year’s winner.”
I choke on my wine. It snorts up through my nose, and I hunch over, coughing, because he can’t just call me a WILDFLOWER and insinuate I’m going to win, all in the same breath!
It’s Milo who quickly has his hand on my shoulder and his handkerchief at my face. I grab it, trying to stop choking on liquid and making a fool of myself. My face is burning by the time I fold up the handkerchief and hand it back to Milo, mumbling, “Sorry.”
“You alright?”
I nod, and Nessa smiles, saying, “Well, if Milo has endorsed you before, and Leon too, I’ll have to keep an eye out for you.” Her head turns when more trainers gather, drawn to her like a moth to flame. “Sorry, excuse me,” and she fluidly turns from us.
Before Milo is accosted, he turns his head up, hearing the music strains start up again. His face lights up. “Oh, I know this dance,” he says. He holds his arm out to me. “Care to dance?”
My face heats up again. “Sorry,” I stammer and lie, “I don’t know this one.”
“Shame,” he says. His attention catches over my shoulder, and he gives an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to save a dance for me, Bonnie.”
“Sure.”
He nudges me as he passes. “And hey? Go make some friends, or I’ll have to hold your hand all night.”
THAT is unacceptable, so I blurt, “Of course!” and make off before he can make good on that promise.
It doesn’t take long to integrate properly with the party. My eyes land on a group of girls. I edge closer to them, wondering how I’m going to break the ice, when one of them sees me. Her eyes widen.
“Oh my gosh! You guys, I think that’s her!” I freeze, cupcake wrapper and wine in hand. They release an assortment of gasps and come to meet me halfway. The first girl asks, “You’re Bonnie Howard, right? You’re the other one Champion Leon endorsed?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “That’s me.”
“Oh my gosh, you have to tell us about him!” The girls crowd around me, and I shrink, feeling even smaller than before. “How did you get him to endorse you?”
“What’s he like?”
“You’ve really gotten to meet him one-on-one?”
I shuffle my feet. My toes curl under the edge of my skirt, and I take a big drink, trying to trust Milo that it’s going to soothe my nerves. “I mean, he’s . . . He’s fine—” One of them whispers, “Yeah he’s fine,” and sends the girls into a tizzy of giggles. “I mean, he’s decent. He’s . . . tall.”
I wince at my dumb answers. I’m painfully aware of my drawl compared to their polished accents. I feel like a hick. Maybe I am.
“But he endorsed you, right?” One of the taller girls with brunette hair has her eyes on me. She’s sizing me up. “I have to keep a close eye on my competition. How did you do it? What types are you using?”
“Uh, normal and grass.”
“Huh,” she says, and I hear a huff to my side. My spine stiffens. Of course people think grass types are easily mowed and normal types are boring and crack under a single fighting type attack. Just because they’re common doesn’t mean they aren’t strong. “What made him endorse you? I haven’t heard anything about you.”
“I uh . . . I fought off some thievul with my wooloo.”
“Oh!” They seem more interested in that. “You beat evolved pokemon with some sheep?”
“I see how that could make a big impression,” the blonde mumbles.
“What’s your team right now?”
A small smile plays at my lips. “I’m uh, I’m using my wooloo right now.”
“That’s it?” The girl sizing me up frowns with disinterest. “That doesn’t seem so smart. See, I’m training fighting and ghost types.” She smiles and hikes her chin up. “Stow-On-Side’s types will put a stop to some silly sheep.”
“If she gets that far,” the black-haired girl says, and they all have a laugh at my expense.
My cheeks flush. Suddenly, my shoulders are squared and I’m glaring. “My sheep aren’t silly,” I snap. “If the Unbeatable Champion Leon was impressed with them, what makes you think I can’t take this entire gym track with them?”
“Oh yeah right,” the tall brunette says. “Come ON, you won’t even get past Nessa with a bunch of sheep. I don’t care how great you think they are. Any decent trainer knows to vary their team. You won’t last long like that.”
“Ah, there you are!”
The girls all turn with gasps, and I look up—and up. Oh gods. Oh no. There, in all his towering glory, is Raihan. Lax, easy smile, phone in hand, and the man didn’t even bother to wear a tie or scarf. He’s got the top two buttons of a rust-colored shirt popped open, showing off a sliver of dark skin.
For one moment, I hold my breath, bottling up every fancying thought I think of him. I tell myself, he’s too full of himself. Too tall. You can’t even kiss someone that tall. He’s a narcissist, hold it together.
He flips through his phone, and smiles. “Bonnie Howard, right? Leon endorsed you.”
Deep breaths girl. He’s not that pretty. (He IS that pretty.) “Yes, sir,” I say.
The girls around me are gossiping in whispers. Raihan puts his out his hand and says, “Come on, let’s dance.”
Um, NO. “Sorry, I don’t know this one,” I say quickly, but he waves his hand.
“Don’t worry, I’ll lead you. Can’t let Lee’s other chosen trainer wall flower all night.”
I hold up the empty wine glass and cupcake wrapper. “Sorry, I really can’t,” I blurt. I don’t WANT this man rescuing me some bully girls. I can handle myself.
“I’ll dance with you, Raihan!” one of the braver girls cuts in.
He waves his hand. “Thanks, but I’m here to check out the girl Lee endorsed.” He rescues the cup and wrapper from my hand before I can protest, and he hands them off to someone—have there been waiters this whole time? Or do people just materialize for him? He takes my arm, saying, “Just a quick dance. Come on, Miss Howard.”
There’s this moment where I’m half convinced I’m going to dig in my heels and refuse. But honestly, I don’t want to be swarmed again by those uppity city girls, and Raihan seems to be on his best behavior, so I acquiesce. Raihan pulls me out on the dance floor, puts his hand on the small of my back—holy gods his hands are huge too—and takes my free hand. I reach up, up, and I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about stepping on my feet,” he tells me. Dark eyes like melted chocolate settle on me. “The dance is just a small formality. I danced with Hop too. Wanted to get an uninterrupted chance to talk to one of Lee’s up and promising ones. He really knows how to pick ‘em, you know?”
His eyes are raking up and down me. My face is hot, and I set my jaw, not liking the way he’s looking at me. “It’s a surprise he picked me as well,” I tell him, staring firmly ahead. My line of sight is low on his chest. I stare at his top closed button. He looks good in his suit, but the cuffs are a touch too short. I look down, and so are the ankles. The fool’s outgrown his suit and hasn’t bothered to buy a new one. Tacky idiot.
Raihan chuckles. “Oh, I doubt it.” He pulls me along, and one of his fingers unfurls from my hand. I scowl when I catch him—hand still attached to mine!—scrolling on his phone. “You’ve got quite the track record, Miss Howard. Third time endorsed? We’re definitely missing something special here.” He grins wolfishly down on me, and I catch a flash of fangs that makes my heart jump. “I don’t think he picked you just because you’re a pint-sized stunner.”
His eyes flick down and up me again. I am massively regretting this v-neck dress that’s dipping even lower than Raihan’s unbuttoned shirt. I feel like the girls are on display, and I realize, being sexy is only nice until you’ve got some jerk ogling you.
The fangs are just part of his ensemble as a dragon themed gym leader. Stop freaking out. They’re fake. I bet if I reached up and pulled, I’d have a plastic cap in my hands.
“Can you NOT look at me like I’m a piece of meat?” I state as coolly as I can.
His insufferable grin widens. “When you’re pretty enough to eat? You’re snack-sized prey around here, Miss Howard. Hop told me you’re coming onto this gym track with nothing but a team of wooloo. That’s asking bigger predators to dine on you.”
He lords over me with his height, flashing fangs like he’s going to bite me right here and now. I hike my chin up and snap, “You know, you’re not the first braggart around here to act like you’re better than my wooloo. I’ll take this entire gym track with my sheep if that means I get the chance to beat you down to size.”
I mean to insult him, but he just laughs. My face burns in embarrassment and anger. “Miss Howard,” he says, “if you manage to even make it past Kabu with nothing but wooloo, I’ll consider my words eaten. Let’s face it, you’re a talented trainer, but you know it’s not possible to take this gym circuit with only one kind of pokemon.”
He swirls me across the dance floor, and I hear him laugh under his breath about me not being able to dance. I purposefully step on his toes. “Then I think you highly underestimate me, Mr. Garrick. The Champion endorsed me because he thinks I can make it to the top, and that means flattening your pathetic dragons underfoot.”
I see his eyes flash at that challenge. His hand tightens on my waist and on my hand, and I realize, I have the infamous Raihan’s full attention. His rotom phone is hovering behind his shoulder, forgotten. His lip curls.
“It’ll be a pity I won’t even get the chance to let my dragons sink their teeth into those sheep of yours.”
“Your dragons are weak. Their teeth are dull. Or do you not have a 0-10 losing streak against the Champion, currently?”
“You’re rather uppity for such a bitty thing, aren’t you? I’d like to see you take down Leon.”
“I will. That’s what he endorsed me to do.” I lift a brow at him. “And I’ll beat Melony too, something you can’t seem to do.”
His hands clench enough to pop my fingers. He yanks me closer, fingers biting into my back and hip, and he bends over, glowering down on me. “The day you can defeat a team of fighting types with those sheep of yours,” he snarls, “is the day you get to talk to me about type disadvantages! I’m the top gym leader in this region for a reason, Miss Howard!”
“You don’t act like it,” I snap. I refuse to back away from his proximity. I know he’s using his height as an intimidation tactic, so I keep my spine as straight as possible. “You’re an egomaniac, Mr. Garrick. You’re so conceited and concerned with yourself that your talent is slipping. Glued to your phone instead of the battle. Ha!” I sniff my nose up. “It’s no wonder you keep losing.”
“I invite you to make your best team and come to my gym,” Raihan sneers. He bends down so we’re nose-to-nose, and I refuse to give quarter and back away like he wants me to. “It’ll be a pleasure to prove to you why I earned the position I have.”
My tongue is quick on another retort, but the strains of the song have stopped, and someone clears their throat. Both mine and Raihan’s head snap towards the newcomer.
I recognize Kabu from watching his battles. He’s shorter than I expected—still taller than me—and lines full of the wisdom of years. His position as the Motostoke Gym Leader has been untouched for almost a quarter of a century now. He’s a cornerstone of the gym challenge.
He lifts a mild brow at us. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks. There’s something in his tone I can’t read well, but he cuts his eyes to Raihan.
Raihan lets go. I throw his hands off and step back. “No, you’re not interrupting a thing,” Raihan says. He rocks back on his heels and grabs his phone, typing fast. He lifts his voice, making sure to catch people’s attention. “Was just checking out the other one the Champion endorsed!” He smirks at me, fang bared when he announces, “Looks like Hop is the Wright choice this year!”
My fists knuckle up. Whatever Kabu attempts to say is drowned out by me shouting, “Talk all the smack you want, Mr. Garrick! But when I make it to your gym, I’ll defang your dragons. Then we’ll see who’s predator and who’s prey!”
He’s still gloating down on me, and I’ve had it up to here with him. I lift my foot and stamp down on his toes with all my might. Even without heels, the force of it is enough to make him swear. I whirl and stomp off, hitching my skirts up to stalk out of this ballroom.
Stupid ball. Stupid stuck up girls. Stupid, goddamn, holier-than-thou Raihan! I’ll take my herd of wooloo to the top if it’s the last thing I do!
I flounce all the way through Motostoke Gym and to the front doors before I realize it’s pouring rain.
The night is black and the rain is heavy. I’m pissed as I consider how far it would be to the hotel next door. I’m going to be sopping wet. I wasted all that time this morning straightening my hair for this hairdo and it’s going to be undone by the rain. It’s not fair. I stand there, vibrating in anger, willing the rain to stop with my will alone.
It doesn’t stop raining, of course. Stupid, rainy Galar.
“Mind if I join you?”
I jump when Milo hesitantly walks up with me. I huff and let the anger drain from me. It’s not use getting bent out of shape over one jerk. Especially if I can make him eat his words later.
I’m just . . . Not sure how to do that with a herd of wooloo yet.
“Sure,” I say. I chafe my arms when he steps up next to me. There’s a moment where he hesitates to say anything. He rubs his hands on his thighs.
“I’m sorry about Raihan. He’s not usually so bad.” I snort a dismissive noise through my nose. Milo gently smiles. “Really, he’s not. What did you do, insult his dragons?”
It’s here that I flush guiltily. “Among other things,” I mumble to the floor. I know he was judgmental of me first, but Mamaw always said to heap the burning coals on their heads, not give them the satisfaction. I think of Raihan’s smug smirk, and I hate that I clearly gave him the satisfaction.
I hang my head. “He insulted my herd. I got mad.”
There’s a pause. “So the talk at the party was right? You’re going to take your wooloo on the gym challenge?”
I don’t like his tone. I cut my eyes to him, asking, “What, you don’t believe I can do it either?”
Milo hesitates, and I think that tells me all I need to know, but he says, “It’s gutsy and confident, and I like it. You’d definitely be the first person to do this with not just one type, but one kind of pokemon.”
I smile wryly at him. “Thanks.” I twiddle my thumbs. Milo clears his throat.
“You’re leaving the party already? I think Leon was wanting to see you.”
My shoulders cave. I shuffle on my feet. “They’re already making fun of me for the wooloo thing, aren’t they?”
“Not everyone.” I snort, and he gives a soft laugh. “Really, Bonnie, not everyone in there is so bad. I’ve met some real sweet gym goers. Marnie in particular looks like she’s going to go far.” He jerks a thumb back towards the party that’s not even half over. “Sure you don’t want to give it a go in there? You can use me as a shield if anyone’s being mean.”
He’s right. I should go back in there. I should go see Leon and thank him in person for endorsing me. I shouldn’t leave Hop hanging after he was so excited tonight. I should REALLY make a friend, but after I made a fool of myself in there? Making a scene? I’ve made a laughingstock of myself. Some hot-headed nobody using a herd of wooloo that the Champion endorsed. What am I doing? I’m making a fool of Leon’s reputation and his faith in me.
Maybe I should take this seriously. Leave my sheep at home instead of pursuing this out of spite.
“I think I’m just going to go back to the hotel,” I finally mumble to Milo. I look out at the rain. It hasn’t let up.
“Any reason you hesitated in the first place?”
I grimace. “Rain. It’s going to ruin my hair. I put a lot of work into it this morning.” Romantic tucks aren’t for extremely nappy hair like mine. I spent hours straightening my curls flat. One step into the wet, and my hard work is gone. I can’t believe I’m vain enough to whine about this when I accused Raihan of the same thing.
Milo hums in thought. “Hold on a second.”
He pulls off his ascot, and I stammer when he approaches, but Milo just hushes me. He wraps my hair up like he’s done this before, making sure every strand is hidden under the scarf, and he ties it below my chin. I hold my breath like an idiot, throat jumping when his coarse fingers brush my neck.
“Milo, you don’t have to—”
“Sure I do. Can’t let a fellow farmer ruin her hair, can I?” He takes the hat off his head and fits it on mine, and then, he smiles. “There we go,” he says. “Hair is protected!”
I flush, and I look at the floor. My toes curl in my sandals. “Shouldn’t you be in there? Isn’t it a gym leader requirement?”
“I can come back and fulfill all my gym leader requirements,” Milo says. “Gotta make sure the future Champion makes it back to her hotel safely, right? Especially if you’ve had a sour night.”
I peek up at him. His hair is creased from wearing his hat, and I can’t help the smile that sneaks to my face. “Looks like someone else’s hair could use some work.”
“Who, me? Naw, this is fine.” He fluffs it up with his fingers, sending red curls flying everywhere. My stomach flips.
Okay Mamaw, you can be a little bit right.
He takes my hand and tugs me toward the exit. The doors whiz open and the din of the rain fills the empty entry hall. At the last second, I hear him hum again, and he shrugs out of his jacket—
“Milo, NO, you’ve done enough to—”
“And what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer my coat to a lady?” I can’t do too much to fight him. I slip into a suit coat that dwarfs my slim frame. You could fit three of me in this thing. It smells like hay, musky closet, and some sort of sweet smelling cologne I can’t place.
I button the front buttons and clench the lapels closed. Milo takes my hand again and grins. His nose scrunches up with the motion. “You ready?”
“Ready.”
“Let’s go!”
I squeal when the first sheet of raindrops dump over me, but Milo and I go running through the rain. The hotel is just next door, but we have to cover a huge parking lot, the turf cutting a marker between the buildings, and the hotel parking lot. By the time we make it to the awning of the hotel, even if it’s barely a couple minute’s run, we’re soaking wet and laughing.
“The hair?” he asks. I take off his hat and untie the ascot. Milo grins. “Intact! Mission accomplished, ma’am.”
I give him the items back, and as he puts his hat back on, I stare at his chest because. Oh my. The rain and that white button up is a criminal combination. How the hell did he pour into that shirt in the first place?
My face blushes hot again. I look at the soaked hem of my skirt. “Um, this is yours too,” I say to him. I shrug out of his coat, shivering because now I’m wet and cold.
“Thanks.” He pulls it on even though it’s wet too and not going to protect him at all from the elements. He brushes dripping, red curls from his face and smiles at me. “So I’ll see you at my gym soon with those wooloo, right?”
After people belittling my sheep, my heart feels buoyant at his words. “Sure will,” I say.
“You better train up hard. First time dynamaxing can be scary, so it’s good to practice in the wild area.” I take his advice to heart. “I’ll be rooting for you, Bonnie.”
“Thank you.” When he turns, I jump. “Oh, Milo!” He looks back. I chafe my cold arms and add, “Can you tell Leon and Hop I’m sorry I bailed? I know they wanted me there.”
“No problem.” He smiles again. “You have a good night, Bonnie.”
“You too, Milo.”
He disappears into the rain, hustling back to the party even though he’s going to be drenched from head to toe now. I sigh. When I can’t see him anymore, I squeeze rainwater from my skirts and resolve to take a hot shower so I don’t catch a cold.
I reach up and touch my hair. It’s really dry and still straight and holding. I’ll have to get a shower cap so I don’t ruin my hard work and Milo sacrificing his clothes.
Anyways. This is a Wooloo Nuzlocke! Where I only used Wooloo! Because wynaut, am I right? Just your basic nuzlocke, catch a full team, name 'em, if one dies, it's boxed. That's it.
Remember how I wrote GitM? No rules, just fun and write? This is the same! But like, complete opposite tone from GitM, but just as lazily-fun written. What plot? What antagonists? We're here for lovey-dovey stupid cute stuff and nothing else. This is INDULGENT and SACCHARINE shit and very much for fun. (I swear I'm working on REAL projects, I am, I'll post one of them eventually.)
Happy Valentine's Day! If you would like something that's basically just a cutesy, sweet, romantic, following-the-tropes easy read, this is gonna be it for you. I'm going to post the first and second chapter because you all need to be able to meet the love interests first thing. The slogan for the run is, "Why have a love triangle when it could be a threesome?" The other slogan for the run is, "By god, if I turned myself into a Milo of Turffield stan, then I'm taking you all down with me!"
Rating is K? Or E for everyone?? (Most likely there will be some "Mature" for "Bad Touching" entries that will not be posted here, so you'll have to bug me for those installments.)
CHAPTER 1 & 2: HERE
CHAPTER 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
CHAPTER 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
“Hey, I just met you and this is crazy
But here's my number, so call me maybe”
Call Me Maybe __ Carly Rae Jepsen
But here's my number, so call me maybe”
Call Me Maybe __ Carly Rae Jepsen
I’m carding wool with my grandmother when the letter comes in.
We’re really the only house that sits out on Route 1. Our road is called Woolwich Way, an old dirt road that’s off the beaten path between Postwick and Wedgehurst. Named, of course, for the herds of wooloo that live on our lands and the old wool factory. The only mail we get are bills, solicitors, and old fashioned people who don’t know how to contact me online for a commission.
So when a letter comes in from the Pokemon League, stamped for me, our mailman is enthusiastic that I open it now, before he leaves.
“Bonnie, it’s been ages since you were in school out in Motostoke, wasn’t it?” he asks. James has run mail for us for ages, so he know my grandparents and always notices when he delivers something different. It’s either the blessing of small town folks, or a curse. “Do they want you back out on the gym track?”
My grandmother leans forward, eyes shooting up. “Is that an endorsement letter?” Her face pinches up with a shrewd smile, and she wags a finger at me. “I knew you would get back out there! Who endorsed you? When did you sneak off to do this?”
For a moment, I stare at the letter. Because this is ridiculous. I didn’t think he was serious. “I didn’t,” I tell Mamaw. I look away from our lumps of wool and out to the fields where my sheep are—separate from the masses we harvest wool from in the factories. My favorites, all handpicked over my time here.
The Unbeatable Champion Leon Wright, the “Wright Man For The Job!” Leon, who hands out one endorsement a year.
Impressed by a sheepherder.
James checks his watch, hefts the bag on his shoulder and glances back at his truck. “Well?” he says. “Open it!”
I do. The peanut gallery is craning their necks like swanna to get a look at the paper. The nut job has signed off on a gym endorsement for me, allowing me, for the first time in years, to again pursue my old dream of taking the gym challenge.
I laugh and show James the letter, who immediately congratulates me and fawns. He hands it to Mamaw who coos, asking, “How did you do this, Bonnie? That’s MY girl! Endorsed by the Unbeatable Champion! Oh, where’s Chuck? Lassie!” Our herdier perks up and leaps to her feet. “Go fetch Chuck for me, he has to hear this!” Lassie barks and rushes off towards the farmhouse, and my grandmother smiles at me, all the lines of her years smiling with her. “Bonnie, fess up, dearie. How did you get endorsed again?”
I shake my head, and I say, “I was just doing my job! A pack of thievul came from the forest for my sheep, so I ran them off!” I wave my hand and pick up my carding tools and continue to comb through the knotted wool. “Everyone knows Champion Leon is horrible with directions, so he somehow ended up out this way instead of at home. He thought it was impressive that I ran off a pack of thievul with nothing but my wooloo, Lassie, and the Matron.” Out in our fenced in yard is about a dozen wooloo, and the Matron, Mamaw’s dubwool. “It wasn’t anything special.”
“Special enough to catch the Champion’s eye,” Mamaw says. She picks up her carding tools and joins me in combing through the wool. “It’s no mean feat, protecting all of the little ones from the wild pokemon. You should be proud!”
“You’re going to accept, aren’t you?” James asks. He’s shuffling backwards, knowing he needs to get back on the road to make his deliveries on time. I wave him off.
“Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Not the answer I wanted to hear!” he says. He waves when he gets in the truck though. “Come on, Bonnie! I expect to see you on the big screen! That’s an endorsement from the Unbeatable Champion! You can’t refuse!”
I roll my eyes and wave. The mail truck pulls away, and Lassie goes rocketing after him, barking up a storm. Behind us, I hear Papaw holler, “What! What is it? What did I miss? Lassie was impatient!”
Mamaw stands up to meet him on the path, and I furiously work at small pieces of wool. I always knew Leon was a ditz, but this really takes the cake. He endorsed me on a whim because he got lost and saw me fight thievul. I’m sure he looked up my track record, jogged his memory about who I even am, but that was ages ago. Long gone are the days where Leon swore I was going to be his rival. (Sonia, taller, prettier, richer, ended up taking that position when I bowed out of the gym challenge.) Maybe he’s riding a high on nostalgia.
“Well, you’re going to do it, aren’t you?” I look up, and I see Papaw, short and nothing but skin and bones with his cane. His face pinches up in a smile. “I always told you to try again, Bonnie! This is your chance!”
“Oh Papaw,” I say. I throw more combed wool on my pile. “That was ages ago! I’m grown now. I have a job, and I like it out here. I can’t just leave the farm!”
“Oh yes you can,” he says under no circumstances. He jabs his cane at me. “You’ve used the farm as an excuse for too long, young lady. First you dropped out because of me, and then we had the bad season with the thievul. You dropped out the year Mamaw got pneumonia. Refused to try to get endorsed the year I was down in my back.” He raps my knuckles with his cane when I don’t stop working. I look up at him with warm cheeks, and he accuses, “How long are you going to keep putting off your life for us?”
I fiddle my fingers. “I’m not.”
“Are too.” Mamaw gangs up on me with him. “You went to school to be a journalist, and now where are you? Helping us at the farm.” She huffs and scraps at the wool. “You’ve been stopping everything for us. Don’t you want a chance to go on this journey? This is the third time you’ve been endorsed, and you know what they say: third time’s the charm.”
I look out on my little herd of wooloo and sigh. I was at the top of my class with Leon back in the day. I know I could have went far, even with only a normal and grass type pokemon license. I owe the Yarrow’s, long-standing owners of the Turffield gym, for giving me the discount on the grass licensing process. The old leader was the first to endorse me. Milo was the second.
My mind drifts with the waxen dreams of my youth. I buff them shiny in my thoughts, testing out what a thrill it might be to officially dynamax, to finally have my chance to prove myself. Wouldn’t it be something to get out on the track for once? Papaw isn’t sick. Mamaw is in stellar health too. I’ve just been on the farm for so long I’m not sure how well I’d do anymore.
But Leon is still impressed with my battling, and he’s been the reigning Champion for ten years now, undefeated. There has to be merit in that.
“I think it’s high time you put yourself first,” Papaw says to me. He smiles at me, and his brown eyes are rich with warmth. “After all, I’d be right proud to see my girl winning that gym challenge.”
My heart flutters at the thought. I give him a shy smile. “You think I could do it?”
“I know you could.”
Mamaw reaches over and slaps my arm good naturedly. “Not to mention, the first gym is Milo.”
I groan and flop back in my picnic chair. “MAMAW.”
“I’m just saying, the boy’s got a good head on his shoulders, heart of gold, and my how he’s filled out. Handsome lad, Bonnie,” and she waves her carding comb. “You’d be remiss letting him slip away again.”
I flush. It’s no secret who Mamaw’s wanted me to marry all these years. “That was ages ago, Mamaw. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”
She tuts her tongue. “I’m just saying.” She winks at Papaw. “A very eligible boy, that one.”
Papaw nods thoughtfully. “I’d let him carry me bridal style.”
“PAPAW!”
***
I decide to do it for a multitude of reasons. The major reason is my grandparents won’t let me NOT do it.
The other reason is that I do crave it. After being stuck on a farm all my life, my wanderlust has reached it’s zenith. Going to school in Motosoke before my first endorsement were the peak years of my life where I saw new things, tried new things, and met new people. The gym challenge gives me the perfect chance to see the region.
The last reason is I want to prove myself. Who doesn’t want to see how far they can go up the gym challenge? I want to be one of the ones to make it to the Champion Cup. I know I could do it. I’ve always been talented enough for this, and my babies are talented. I’ll take them as far as I can, and if I need to switch up my team later, I can. But for now, I walk out onto the pasture where my sheep are to pick who should go with me.
They bleat in the springtime sun, freshly sheared less than a month ago now with new fuzz on their bodies. I click my tongue, catching their attention. “Come here, everyone!” The Matron stays sitting, lazily munching on grass, but her children all race up to me. Lassie does too, and I have to shoo her off so she quits chasing the wooloo about.
“Okay babies,” I tell them. “I’m going to fight on the gym circuit. We’re going to conquer gyms, do all that cool stuff. Who wants to come with me?”
Several back away. Several scream at me, head butting me, and I laugh, wading through a sea of clouds.
“Okay, Blanche! Calm down, I’ll take you with me! You too, Dawson, you brave little boy.” I scrunch his cheeks and nuzzle my forehead to him. “You’ll have to take less naps though. We have to train hard, right?” He nibbles at my hand, and I rub his back. “Who else? Oh, Dottie!” I shove her face away when she forces her way to the front. “Oh no, you’re too sweet, Dottie! What if something happened to you?” She butts at my knees, and I smile. “You’re so little, sweetie, are you sure? If you change your mind about battling, I can always send you back home.” Dottie is insistent, and she hops, kicking her feet. “Yes! Okay, we have three! I need three more!”
The rest of the herd shuffles uncertainly. The crisp spring breeze pulls at my skirt, and I’m thankful for the fleece sweater I’m wearing. I should have slipped some tights on. I survey my sheep, thinking of the thievul battle we all skirted out of without a casualty. I look at my little wooloo that’s horn is already cocked out and growing crooked. “Henrietta? Do you think you could come with us? You noticed the foxes first. I’d love to have someone smart like you with us.”
She skirts about, clearly hesitating, and I say, “It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s good to be careful about things.” I survey my others. Some have backed off, but some still linger. “The Champion was impressed with all of you, so I’d like to take you on the circuit, at least for a little bit. Gloria? Do you think you could come with us? You’re very strong and defensive. I think that would be helpful.”
Gloria bucks up when I single her out. She plants her front hooves and gives a vicious “Baa!” I can still see the thievul’s teeth marks raked down her hindquarter where she barely escaped.
When Gloria chooses to come, Henrietta—not to be outdone by her sister—bleats and pushes in front of her. I laugh, pull on their stubby horns and say, “Okay you two! Be nice, we’re a team now!”
Last, after a bunch of shuffling back and forth, I see Atticus. A longer tail than the rest of them, it swishes when he plods up. I coo, “Oh, what a dear, are you sure, Atticus?” He shies away uncertainly, my scared baby boy, and then he gives a big, firm nod. I rub his nose. “Aw, thank you, Atticus.” I stand up and smile at them. “Looks like we’ve got our team! Wish us luck, Mama?”
The Matron lifts her head and bleats, warm and low. Whatever she says, it’s good encouragement for my little wooloo herd, because they all start talking up a storm and skittering around me. I laugh, and holler, “Okay, stick together! Mamaw’s got pokeballs for you all, so let’s go!”
I use my shepherd’s crook to separate the herd from one another. Lassie helps round up the ones who are staying near the Matron, and I lead the rest of them up the hill to the house. The group briefly freaks out when I catch Gloria in a pokeball—they’ve never seen it before, I can’t blame them—and once every sheep is accounted for, we label their pokeballs with their initial. We differentiate Dawson and Dottie’s by putting “Dot” on hers.
Endorsement was two weeks ago. We’ve got about one more week before the opening gym ceremony. But first, I release my sheep for a long walk this morning down the dirt road to Postwick. I use my shepherd’s stick to make sure they stay on the path. It’s sunny and breezy, and the day should warm comfortably despite the early spring season. Today, I get to meet Hop, the Champion’s younger brother.
The last time I saw Leon’s little brother was ten years ago when his mother was holding him during the match that got Leon endorsed by Chairman Rose. Leon called my house to arrange our meeting. He wants Hop to have a rival, and he figured since he endorsed us both that we would push each other. I agreed, for lack of reason to say no. The only thing I know about Hop is he has nearly as many type licenses as Leon, and there’s been talk of if the only one to topple Leon’s regime will be his younger brother.
My small rabble of friends I hang out with are begging me to get Leon’s number for them. The best I could do is laugh and tell them if I actually got the Champion’s number, I’d hawk it to the highest bidder.
When I reach Postwick, I return my sheep so I don’t clutter the streets. It’s easy to navigate the small town, and easier to find the Wright residence—given it’s the only two story, plus-an-attic mansion in town. Leon has a very nice paycheck that he likes to spend on his mother.
Two purple heads are in the yard. One much younger and one much more handsome. I draw in a breath. Fine, he’s as pretty as they say he is, I’m grown enough to admit it. Doesn’t mean Leon’s head isn’t in the clouds and as full of just as much cotton.
Hop shouts when he sees me. “Hey!” He waves his hand to gesture me closer, so I walk onto the large yard. I spy the backyard battlefield, and I realize quickly what I’m in for. “You’ve got to be Bonnie Howard! Lee’s been talking about you!”
“Hey, Bonnie!” They greet me with the same big grin that crinkles up their eyes. Leon’s wearing that gaudy Champion’s outfit, but it’s mostly the tacky sponsorship cape that’s doing him in. The spandex hugs him all too tightly, so I focus on Hop.
“Hello,” I say, and I try not to be bashful. I wave at Leon, who beams, and I say to the teen, “You must be Hop.”
“That’s me!” Hop lifts his chin, and at full height, he’s already taller than me. He’ll likely be as tall as his brother, who dwarfs my five foot two. “Lee said you ran off a hoard of thievul with nothing but wooloo! I can’t believe it!”
Okay, now I’m embarrassed. “He’s telling you tall tales,” I say, waving my free hand and downplaying it so Hop doesn’t act like I’m the best thing since sliced bread. “I had a dubwool and herdier helping me! Honest, it wasn’t that great.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Leon cuts in. He smiles grandly, and talks me up by saying, “You had to be there, Hop! That many thievul and she didn’t lose a single sheep? That’s good battling! Did you know I used to know Bonnie?”
I groan. “Leon—”
Ten years of not knowing each other doesn’t put a dent in Leon’s glee and Hop’s starry eyes. “Bonnie here gave me a run for my money back in the day! Did you know I was going to make her my rival?”
Hop gapes. I’m flushed so bright I’m sure I’m glowing at this point. “You were going to be my brother’s rival?” He grins. “Yes! You’re going to be the greatest rival ever!”
“Leon, that’s not true!” I frown at him, and I lean on my shepherd’s crook. “Don’t act like Sonia wasn’t always going to be your rival!”
“Only since you dropped out,” Leon says. He’s still smiling. My anger washes over him like water on an oiled surface. “You’ve dropped out of the gym circuit twice, Bonnie, and I can’t let you do it again!”
I groan and slap my palm to my face. “Maybe . . .” I mumble. I’m good, but I really doubt I’m as good as Leon is talking me up to be. I fought well against Leon back in the day, but he always beat me. Not sure that’s really rival material. Hard to beat a charmander when you’re fighting with a wooloo and grass types. Sonia had more type licenses than I did, so she could always put up a better fight.
“For certain,” Leon corrects me. He grins at Hop. “You two are going to be great rivals! I hope you push each other to become stronger and learn from one another. Now, how about you two show me a champion battle!”
There it is. Hop leaps to attention, exploding, “All right! I’ve got two, Bonnie, what about you? Can we do a two on two?”
I nod. “Sure we can.”
He puts a fist out to me. “Wooloo buddies.”
I bump his fist with mine. “Wooloo buddies,” I agree.
The battle is remarkably short, as young pokemon battles are wont to be. (They don’t have the kind of endurance to have a long battle yet.) I lead with Gloria who takes down Hop’s wooloo. (His name is Snowball.) His scorbunny forces our retreat, and I switch to Dawson.
Hop’s scorbunny has Ember. All three of us find out very quickly that Dawson is extremely flammable since he’s Fluffy, so the battle ends for me in defeat with three pairs of hands frantically patting Dawson’s flaming wool out.
***
Hop looks at me sideways. “So you’re really going to try to do this with a herd of sheep? No offense, but that seems really limiting. How are you going to counter fighting types?”
My preconceptions of the wild area was that it would be: big, beautiful, and full of predators that want to eat my wooloo. It proved to be just that, so I haven’t let my sheep out except for Gloria. She’s bleating with uncertainty, staying very close to my heels.
“Well, Leon endorsed me mostly because of my stunt with my wooloo,” I tell him. “So, I guess regardless of what happens, I want to take them as far up the track as I can. If it’s too hard, I can always send them back home.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Hop tells me. I draw shapes in the dirt with my stick, and Hop stokes the fire again. The nights out here are still cold since the wind is broken only by the tent we’ve been sharing. “I hope you can get past Milo’s gym with them. It’d be really cool to be able to say you got a gym badge with nothing but wooloo. That’d be bragging rights.”
I smile. I draw a cloud in the dirt and add legs to it. “You think so? Is that really bragging rights? Sounds like a person who just likes wooloo too much.”
“With good reason! Wooloo are great!” Snowball looks up and bleats at Hop; Gloria bleats at Snowball; Snowball talks back, and I hitch the crook of my staff around Gloria’s hindquarter when she charges.
“Be nice, Gloria!”
I pull her back to me, and Hop laughs. “She’s got a lot of fight in her, that’s all! That’ll be good spirit to have out on the gym track. But yeah, it’s TOTALLY bragging rights! People don’t walk into the gym challenge without coverage! Even with a single type license, you can go really far with covering your weaknesses by building your team up proper.” Hop cranes his neck abruptly, and I watch his eyes narrow at his scorbunny. The rabbit is full of so much energy it hasn’t stopped running since it was let out, but it must swerve back within the bounds Hop set because he relaxes again.
“I’m just saying,” Hop says, and he plops next to the fire. “It’s totally bragging rights to beat a gym with a team of all one pokemon species.” He snickers. “Man, imagine the look on Lee’s face when he finds out you’re trying to take a herd of sheep on this thing!”
I finish drawing my wooloo in the dirt. I knock Gloria’s front and gesture to it with my staff. “Hey look. It’s you.” She bleats, and she pounds her hooves in the dirt. She draws something, and I judge by the very bad stick figure that—“Oh is that me? Oh you shouldn’t have, Gloria! It’s beautiful! You. Are. An. ARTIST.”
She hikes up her chin as if she’s outdone me, and I let her believe it. I shiver against a chill wind as the evening sets deep, and I ask, “What if I trounced the first TWO gyms with my herd?” He looks at me in shock, and I wiggle my brows with a shark-like grin. “Look, wooloo evolve early, right? I think a bunch of dubwool could last against the second gym too, right?”
Hop laughs with impish delight. “PLEASE crush Nessa with a bunch of sheep. I’m BEGGING you. She would FREAK. Have you seen the way she loses?”
I smile, thinking of her hair-rending freak outs. “That might be cruel. She’d never live it down.” Look, I want her to like me, not resent me.
“But it’d be so fun to watch.” Hop pulls out his rotom phone, tapping away as he pulls up the live stream of Leon and Raihan’s exhibition match. “I bet you could do it. You’d probably have to find some coverage for Kabu though, I hear he’s killer. They call him The Firewall for a reason,” and he grins while he says that terrible pun.
We settle by our campfire, our sheep behind us to block the wind and act as cushions. Hop returns his haywire scorbunny, as the exhibition match winds up to start. I pull yarn from my pack and ask Hop, “Hey, want me to make you a scarf?”
“Whoa! Really?” He sits up straight, looking at the yarn I’ve got stuffed in my pack. “Yeah I want a scarf! Can it have a wooloo on it?”
“Sure thing,” I tell him. I rifle in the pack. “What color do you want it to be?”
“Red!”
I think of his admiration of his brother. “You want gold edges on it too?”
“Absolutely!”
I settle down to crochet his scarf while we watch the exhibition match. You know how almost all of the girls of the region have a crush on the Unbeatable Champion? With good reason, for sure. But I was never the girl with a poster of Leon Wright in my room. Unfortunately, my tastes ran . . . Mh, darker, you could say. And taller.
Raihan Garrick is just as pretty as he’s always been, but unfortunately, he’s grown up from a sweet boy who learned from his losses to a stuck-on-himself superstar. Even in battle, he can’t put that phone down. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone more self-absorbed.
If I don’t like Leon because his head is full of cotton, I can’t stand Raihan because his head is full of himself. I took his poster off my wall years ago. It’s helpful to get over childhood crushes, especially celebrity crushes.
(We’re not going to talk about who currently decorates my wall, nope, I am over celebrity crushes, I swear.)
Hop’s so enthusiastic about the battle it’s hard to see the screen sometimes when he jerks it. Still, we both know Leon’s not going to lose. This will mark Raihan’s tenth battle losing to him.
When Leon backs this battle into a corner, the camera pans in close on Raihan’s fierce snarl. I frown in annoyance.
How come it’s always the jerks who are so pretty? I sympathize with the endless girls and boys that are in love with Leon. Better a dumb himbo with a good heart to crush on instead of an egocentric ladies man.
I feel vindicated when Raihan loses. Serves the idiot right.
***
Hop wants to stay in the wild area longer than I do, so we split apart halfway through the week. It’s a relief, honestly, because I like Hop, but he and his scorbunny are too much energy for me. I make it to Motostoke City two days before the opening ceremony. The city glitters with lights and bustles with activity, but when I taste the smog on the air, it’s definitely the part I don’t miss.
I stay in the Pokemon Center a night, having friendly battles with a few trainers that want to practice. Things are touch and miss with my herd—seems like others trained a bit harder in the wild area than I did—but people are friendly and like Gloria and Dawson. They ask me what other kind of pokemon I’m going to catch, and I tell them I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to keep an eye out for what kinds of pokemon would flesh my team out better if I plan on going far.
The next day, I pull my endorsement letter out of my pack. There’s a small schedule included: check in at the Budew Drop Inn, when to meet in the Motostoke Stadium locker rooms, release for break and to prepare for the formal dining and meeting event. Supposedly, it’s a chance to meet and greet with the gym leaders and your fellow trainers, and if you’re gunning to topple a gym leader, a place to network. I’m just hoping to leave it with some more friends. What would a pokemon journey be without some friends, right?
So I spend my day shopping the Motosoke boutiques. I’m so short it’s hard to find dresses that flatter me. My old prom dress doesn’t fit anymore—my butt’s too big for it—so I’m on the hunt for a new one. My old sparkly gray sandals will service just fine for shoes. I’m set on something that will flatter my butt since I don’t dress up often, but unluckily, that doesn’t seem to be the style anymore. Most of the skirts are short, flared ones that I’m sure I’ll flash people in.
I end up picking a blush pink dress. Floor length, lace, a touch deeper v-neck than I’d like, but you know what? It’s cute, I’m not going to trip in it, and it’s comfortable. The only way it could possibly be improved is with pockets.
Registration for the gym challenge is surprisingly easy. I show them the letter, fill out some paperwork (mostly disclaimers on pokemon death still being possible in such a grueling challenge) and receive my dynamax band. They size it for my tiny wrist too.
I try to pick 831 as my jersey number before I remember Milo owns the number. I bite my lip in annoyance and pick 832 instead. Fine, I can’t have wooloo’s pokedex number as my jersey number, so dubwool will have to do. I spend the rest of my day doing my nails, crocheting Hop’s scarf, and stressing over the opening ceremony.
I mean, how bad could it be? Mill around, eat rich people food, and they’ll probably have wine or champagne. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fun.
“Fight so dirty but your love so sweet
Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Late night devil put your hands on me
And never, never, never ever let go”
Teeth __ 5 Seconds of Summer
Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Late night devil put your hands on me
And never, never, never ever let go”
Teeth __ 5 Seconds of Summer
I’m viscerally reminded I haven’t been in the spotlight in ten years. Stepping out onto the pitch? In the bright white floodlights that blind you? In front of hundreds of thousands of cheering people? I hear the strains of, Just a small town girl! Living in a lonely world! when I stand out there in that ugly matching gym uniform with everyone else. Without my shepherd’s staff, I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I end up fiddling with my shorts, trying to disappear from the cameras.
The day is a dreary, Galarian rainy day. The domed top of the arena is closed up.
Standing on the pitch added ten years of life to Hop. It drained ten years from me. Maybe gym battling was a mistake, you know? At max, I live with two people in my life, and that’s my grandparents. I’m not used to the attention.
So because I’m already a mess of nerves, when I enter a sparkly ballroom with finger foods and drinks lining the walls and a bunch of strangers, my first thought is, Oh no. Almost all the girls are wearing short dresses. I’m wearing a floor length. This was formal, right? Formal means floor length, we’re in a ballroom, why did no one tell me I was supposed to wear a short prom-like dress?
I stay close to the sides, away from the well-dressed masses and praying my short height hides me. I nibble at a chocolate cupcake in the corner, and I wish I had my staff. I bet I could herd these people out of my way just like they’re sheep. Instead, I stare at the pillars holding up the room, the extravagantly painted ceiling, and crystal chandeliers. The more I people watch, the more I realize I’m the only girl not wearing heels. I’m the only one not decked out in make up. The other girls are jangling with jewelry—I’m wearing the single tear-drop pearl necklace and earrings I got for my sixteenth birthday.
Oh no. I do not belong here. How am I both overdressed in a floor length gown and under-dressed without proper makeup and heels? What am I doing here? I have no idea how any of this works. Where’s Hop? He’s the only one I know. I stand on my toes and crane my head. It’s impossible for me to see anything around people, but it’s easy to tell where people are flocking: Raihan’s got a slew of fans around him, all clucking like pigeons as he takes selfies and pictures with them. Two-faced jerk. I assume Hop is buried in the flock of girls and boys crowding around Leon, but it’s impossible to tell.
Fine. All alone with a cupcake wrapper and I don’t know where the nearest trash can is. Shit. I’m an idiot. Maybe I should go home now—
“Bonnie? That you?”
My savior is only a few inches taller than me, but twice as wide. I deflate when I see Milo approach, and he’s got a broad, sweet smile on his face and two glasses of something white and sparky in his hands.
“Milo,” I say. He proffers the drink to me, so I take it from him. Then we shake hands, and my gods his palm is massive and swallows my hand whole.
“Nervous?” he says amicably. “I’m the same in a place packed with folks like this. That’ll help relax you.” His gaze softens as he looks me up and down. “Well, don’t you look pretty as a peach. Don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress before.”
“It’s new,” I say. I turn the glass in my hands and watch the liquid swirl. I’m painfully aware of hunching my shoulders, so I try to smooth them out. “I don’t own too many dresses, so it’s nice to have a reason to dress up.” I take a nervous sip, looking at the way his arms are nearly bursting from his suit coat. Okay, so Mamaw is right. Milo has filled out very nicely, and he’s still as nice as ever. He hasn’t changed at all. Maybe she’s right, I should just marry him and settle down herding wooloo with him.
“You look nice too,” I offer.
His face pinches up with delight. “Thank you! Like you said, it’s good to have a reason to dress up,” and he tips a stylish hat to me. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says, and he drops his pitch, leaning in, “but I sneaked out of wearing a tie with the scarf.”
My eyes alight on his green ascot with little applin embroidered into it. “Your secret’s safe with me, just as long as you don’t tell anyone I’m wearing flats.”
Milo laughs, and it’s warm, boisterous laughter that fills the room. Heads turn, and I flush, suddenly wondering if my dress is cut too low. “Are you excited about the gym challenge?” he asks me. “You looked like a wooloo in headlights out on the pitch.”
My thoughts turn inward to my knotted stomach. “I’m starting to regret this already, honestly,” I tell him.
“Oh no you don’t,” he says. “You done bowed out twice before, Bonnie! I know you’re good enough for this.” He gives me a shrewd smile, and he lifts his brow. “What, my endorsement wasn’t good enough for you? Only the Champion actually gets you out on the pitch?”
I flush and pat my straightened hair down, making sure it’s still tucked in it’s low braid. “That’s not it at all, Milo. Papaw went down in his back that year. I needed to stay home and help on the farm.”
“I understand,” Milo says, and I hear in his voice that he does. I drink on my wine, thankful that at least someone here can understand something about the farm life. “I think this is your year, though,” he says to me. He smiles, tiny nose wrinkling up and freckles sprayed across his face. “Leon doesn’t give out endorsements lightly, so for him to give you one when he already gave one to Hop is a big deal. I won’t have you backing out this time. If something happens out at the farm this year, I’ll make sure to go down there and help out personally if it keeps you on the gym track.”
Yes, yes I’m blushing very hot now. I wave my free hand and shake my head, blurting, “Milo, you don’t have to—”
“You have a friend, Milo?” I look over, and oh gods, there she is. Nessa, gym leader, supermodel—my current crush, please don’t look at the poster on my wall—and she’s towering over me in a pair of sparkling pumps and an equally sparkling dress, looking like the little mermaid stepped onto land. She smiles. I blink stars from my eyes. “Hello,” she says. “My name is Nessa Lulina. Oh!” I see acknowledgment rise in her eyes. “I know you! You’re Bonnie Howard! Milo endorsed you! How many years ago was that, Milo?”
I take her hand, trembling so hard I’m going to spill my wine. Milo tells her, “Oh, that was five years ago now. I thought we’d never get her out on the gym circuit!”
“You’ll have to thank Leon for that,” Nessa says with a wink. Milo frowns.
“Not on your life! I endorsed Bonnie first. Turffield Gym has endorsed her TWICE and now he’s come to steal the glory of who my family has had confidence in all this time? No, I’ll support this wildflower, but I’m not letting Leon take all the prestige for endorsing this year’s winner.”
I choke on my wine. It snorts up through my nose, and I hunch over, coughing, because he can’t just call me a WILDFLOWER and insinuate I’m going to win, all in the same breath!
It’s Milo who quickly has his hand on my shoulder and his handkerchief at my face. I grab it, trying to stop choking on liquid and making a fool of myself. My face is burning by the time I fold up the handkerchief and hand it back to Milo, mumbling, “Sorry.”
“You alright?”
I nod, and Nessa smiles, saying, “Well, if Milo has endorsed you before, and Leon too, I’ll have to keep an eye out for you.” Her head turns when more trainers gather, drawn to her like a moth to flame. “Sorry, excuse me,” and she fluidly turns from us.
Before Milo is accosted, he turns his head up, hearing the music strains start up again. His face lights up. “Oh, I know this dance,” he says. He holds his arm out to me. “Care to dance?”
My face heats up again. “Sorry,” I stammer and lie, “I don’t know this one.”
“Shame,” he says. His attention catches over my shoulder, and he gives an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to save a dance for me, Bonnie.”
“Sure.”
He nudges me as he passes. “And hey? Go make some friends, or I’ll have to hold your hand all night.”
THAT is unacceptable, so I blurt, “Of course!” and make off before he can make good on that promise.
It doesn’t take long to integrate properly with the party. My eyes land on a group of girls. I edge closer to them, wondering how I’m going to break the ice, when one of them sees me. Her eyes widen.
“Oh my gosh! You guys, I think that’s her!” I freeze, cupcake wrapper and wine in hand. They release an assortment of gasps and come to meet me halfway. The first girl asks, “You’re Bonnie Howard, right? You’re the other one Champion Leon endorsed?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “That’s me.”
“Oh my gosh, you have to tell us about him!” The girls crowd around me, and I shrink, feeling even smaller than before. “How did you get him to endorse you?”
“What’s he like?”
“You’ve really gotten to meet him one-on-one?”
I shuffle my feet. My toes curl under the edge of my skirt, and I take a big drink, trying to trust Milo that it’s going to soothe my nerves. “I mean, he’s . . . He’s fine—” One of them whispers, “Yeah he’s fine,” and sends the girls into a tizzy of giggles. “I mean, he’s decent. He’s . . . tall.”
I wince at my dumb answers. I’m painfully aware of my drawl compared to their polished accents. I feel like a hick. Maybe I am.
“But he endorsed you, right?” One of the taller girls with brunette hair has her eyes on me. She’s sizing me up. “I have to keep a close eye on my competition. How did you do it? What types are you using?”
“Uh, normal and grass.”
“Huh,” she says, and I hear a huff to my side. My spine stiffens. Of course people think grass types are easily mowed and normal types are boring and crack under a single fighting type attack. Just because they’re common doesn’t mean they aren’t strong. “What made him endorse you? I haven’t heard anything about you.”
“I uh . . . I fought off some thievul with my wooloo.”
“Oh!” They seem more interested in that. “You beat evolved pokemon with some sheep?”
“I see how that could make a big impression,” the blonde mumbles.
“What’s your team right now?”
A small smile plays at my lips. “I’m uh, I’m using my wooloo right now.”
“That’s it?” The girl sizing me up frowns with disinterest. “That doesn’t seem so smart. See, I’m training fighting and ghost types.” She smiles and hikes her chin up. “Stow-On-Side’s types will put a stop to some silly sheep.”
“If she gets that far,” the black-haired girl says, and they all have a laugh at my expense.
My cheeks flush. Suddenly, my shoulders are squared and I’m glaring. “My sheep aren’t silly,” I snap. “If the Unbeatable Champion Leon was impressed with them, what makes you think I can’t take this entire gym track with them?”
“Oh yeah right,” the tall brunette says. “Come ON, you won’t even get past Nessa with a bunch of sheep. I don’t care how great you think they are. Any decent trainer knows to vary their team. You won’t last long like that.”
“Ah, there you are!”
The girls all turn with gasps, and I look up—and up. Oh gods. Oh no. There, in all his towering glory, is Raihan. Lax, easy smile, phone in hand, and the man didn’t even bother to wear a tie or scarf. He’s got the top two buttons of a rust-colored shirt popped open, showing off a sliver of dark skin.
For one moment, I hold my breath, bottling up every fancying thought I think of him. I tell myself, he’s too full of himself. Too tall. You can’t even kiss someone that tall. He’s a narcissist, hold it together.
He flips through his phone, and smiles. “Bonnie Howard, right? Leon endorsed you.”
Deep breaths girl. He’s not that pretty. (He IS that pretty.) “Yes, sir,” I say.
The girls around me are gossiping in whispers. Raihan puts his out his hand and says, “Come on, let’s dance.”
Um, NO. “Sorry, I don’t know this one,” I say quickly, but he waves his hand.
“Don’t worry, I’ll lead you. Can’t let Lee’s other chosen trainer wall flower all night.”
I hold up the empty wine glass and cupcake wrapper. “Sorry, I really can’t,” I blurt. I don’t WANT this man rescuing me some bully girls. I can handle myself.
“I’ll dance with you, Raihan!” one of the braver girls cuts in.
He waves his hand. “Thanks, but I’m here to check out the girl Lee endorsed.” He rescues the cup and wrapper from my hand before I can protest, and he hands them off to someone—have there been waiters this whole time? Or do people just materialize for him? He takes my arm, saying, “Just a quick dance. Come on, Miss Howard.”
There’s this moment where I’m half convinced I’m going to dig in my heels and refuse. But honestly, I don’t want to be swarmed again by those uppity city girls, and Raihan seems to be on his best behavior, so I acquiesce. Raihan pulls me out on the dance floor, puts his hand on the small of my back—holy gods his hands are huge too—and takes my free hand. I reach up, up, and I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about stepping on my feet,” he tells me. Dark eyes like melted chocolate settle on me. “The dance is just a small formality. I danced with Hop too. Wanted to get an uninterrupted chance to talk to one of Lee’s up and promising ones. He really knows how to pick ‘em, you know?”
His eyes are raking up and down me. My face is hot, and I set my jaw, not liking the way he’s looking at me. “It’s a surprise he picked me as well,” I tell him, staring firmly ahead. My line of sight is low on his chest. I stare at his top closed button. He looks good in his suit, but the cuffs are a touch too short. I look down, and so are the ankles. The fool’s outgrown his suit and hasn’t bothered to buy a new one. Tacky idiot.
Raihan chuckles. “Oh, I doubt it.” He pulls me along, and one of his fingers unfurls from my hand. I scowl when I catch him—hand still attached to mine!—scrolling on his phone. “You’ve got quite the track record, Miss Howard. Third time endorsed? We’re definitely missing something special here.” He grins wolfishly down on me, and I catch a flash of fangs that makes my heart jump. “I don’t think he picked you just because you’re a pint-sized stunner.”
His eyes flick down and up me again. I am massively regretting this v-neck dress that’s dipping even lower than Raihan’s unbuttoned shirt. I feel like the girls are on display, and I realize, being sexy is only nice until you’ve got some jerk ogling you.
The fangs are just part of his ensemble as a dragon themed gym leader. Stop freaking out. They’re fake. I bet if I reached up and pulled, I’d have a plastic cap in my hands.
“Can you NOT look at me like I’m a piece of meat?” I state as coolly as I can.
His insufferable grin widens. “When you’re pretty enough to eat? You’re snack-sized prey around here, Miss Howard. Hop told me you’re coming onto this gym track with nothing but a team of wooloo. That’s asking bigger predators to dine on you.”
He lords over me with his height, flashing fangs like he’s going to bite me right here and now. I hike my chin up and snap, “You know, you’re not the first braggart around here to act like you’re better than my wooloo. I’ll take this entire gym track with my sheep if that means I get the chance to beat you down to size.”
I mean to insult him, but he just laughs. My face burns in embarrassment and anger. “Miss Howard,” he says, “if you manage to even make it past Kabu with nothing but wooloo, I’ll consider my words eaten. Let’s face it, you’re a talented trainer, but you know it’s not possible to take this gym circuit with only one kind of pokemon.”
He swirls me across the dance floor, and I hear him laugh under his breath about me not being able to dance. I purposefully step on his toes. “Then I think you highly underestimate me, Mr. Garrick. The Champion endorsed me because he thinks I can make it to the top, and that means flattening your pathetic dragons underfoot.”
I see his eyes flash at that challenge. His hand tightens on my waist and on my hand, and I realize, I have the infamous Raihan’s full attention. His rotom phone is hovering behind his shoulder, forgotten. His lip curls.
“It’ll be a pity I won’t even get the chance to let my dragons sink their teeth into those sheep of yours.”
“Your dragons are weak. Their teeth are dull. Or do you not have a 0-10 losing streak against the Champion, currently?”
“You’re rather uppity for such a bitty thing, aren’t you? I’d like to see you take down Leon.”
“I will. That’s what he endorsed me to do.” I lift a brow at him. “And I’ll beat Melony too, something you can’t seem to do.”
His hands clench enough to pop my fingers. He yanks me closer, fingers biting into my back and hip, and he bends over, glowering down on me. “The day you can defeat a team of fighting types with those sheep of yours,” he snarls, “is the day you get to talk to me about type disadvantages! I’m the top gym leader in this region for a reason, Miss Howard!”
“You don’t act like it,” I snap. I refuse to back away from his proximity. I know he’s using his height as an intimidation tactic, so I keep my spine as straight as possible. “You’re an egomaniac, Mr. Garrick. You’re so conceited and concerned with yourself that your talent is slipping. Glued to your phone instead of the battle. Ha!” I sniff my nose up. “It’s no wonder you keep losing.”
“I invite you to make your best team and come to my gym,” Raihan sneers. He bends down so we’re nose-to-nose, and I refuse to give quarter and back away like he wants me to. “It’ll be a pleasure to prove to you why I earned the position I have.”
My tongue is quick on another retort, but the strains of the song have stopped, and someone clears their throat. Both mine and Raihan’s head snap towards the newcomer.
I recognize Kabu from watching his battles. He’s shorter than I expected—still taller than me—and lines full of the wisdom of years. His position as the Motostoke Gym Leader has been untouched for almost a quarter of a century now. He’s a cornerstone of the gym challenge.
He lifts a mild brow at us. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks. There’s something in his tone I can’t read well, but he cuts his eyes to Raihan.
Raihan lets go. I throw his hands off and step back. “No, you’re not interrupting a thing,” Raihan says. He rocks back on his heels and grabs his phone, typing fast. He lifts his voice, making sure to catch people’s attention. “Was just checking out the other one the Champion endorsed!” He smirks at me, fang bared when he announces, “Looks like Hop is the Wright choice this year!”
My fists knuckle up. Whatever Kabu attempts to say is drowned out by me shouting, “Talk all the smack you want, Mr. Garrick! But when I make it to your gym, I’ll defang your dragons. Then we’ll see who’s predator and who’s prey!”
He’s still gloating down on me, and I’ve had it up to here with him. I lift my foot and stamp down on his toes with all my might. Even without heels, the force of it is enough to make him swear. I whirl and stomp off, hitching my skirts up to stalk out of this ballroom.
Stupid ball. Stupid stuck up girls. Stupid, goddamn, holier-than-thou Raihan! I’ll take my herd of wooloo to the top if it’s the last thing I do!
***
I flounce all the way through Motostoke Gym and to the front doors before I realize it’s pouring rain.
The night is black and the rain is heavy. I’m pissed as I consider how far it would be to the hotel next door. I’m going to be sopping wet. I wasted all that time this morning straightening my hair for this hairdo and it’s going to be undone by the rain. It’s not fair. I stand there, vibrating in anger, willing the rain to stop with my will alone.
It doesn’t stop raining, of course. Stupid, rainy Galar.
“Mind if I join you?”
I jump when Milo hesitantly walks up with me. I huff and let the anger drain from me. It’s not use getting bent out of shape over one jerk. Especially if I can make him eat his words later.
I’m just . . . Not sure how to do that with a herd of wooloo yet.
“Sure,” I say. I chafe my arms when he steps up next to me. There’s a moment where he hesitates to say anything. He rubs his hands on his thighs.
“I’m sorry about Raihan. He’s not usually so bad.” I snort a dismissive noise through my nose. Milo gently smiles. “Really, he’s not. What did you do, insult his dragons?”
It’s here that I flush guiltily. “Among other things,” I mumble to the floor. I know he was judgmental of me first, but Mamaw always said to heap the burning coals on their heads, not give them the satisfaction. I think of Raihan’s smug smirk, and I hate that I clearly gave him the satisfaction.
I hang my head. “He insulted my herd. I got mad.”
There’s a pause. “So the talk at the party was right? You’re going to take your wooloo on the gym challenge?”
I don’t like his tone. I cut my eyes to him, asking, “What, you don’t believe I can do it either?”
Milo hesitates, and I think that tells me all I need to know, but he says, “It’s gutsy and confident, and I like it. You’d definitely be the first person to do this with not just one type, but one kind of pokemon.”
I smile wryly at him. “Thanks.” I twiddle my thumbs. Milo clears his throat.
“You’re leaving the party already? I think Leon was wanting to see you.”
My shoulders cave. I shuffle on my feet. “They’re already making fun of me for the wooloo thing, aren’t they?”
“Not everyone.” I snort, and he gives a soft laugh. “Really, Bonnie, not everyone in there is so bad. I’ve met some real sweet gym goers. Marnie in particular looks like she’s going to go far.” He jerks a thumb back towards the party that’s not even half over. “Sure you don’t want to give it a go in there? You can use me as a shield if anyone’s being mean.”
He’s right. I should go back in there. I should go see Leon and thank him in person for endorsing me. I shouldn’t leave Hop hanging after he was so excited tonight. I should REALLY make a friend, but after I made a fool of myself in there? Making a scene? I’ve made a laughingstock of myself. Some hot-headed nobody using a herd of wooloo that the Champion endorsed. What am I doing? I’m making a fool of Leon’s reputation and his faith in me.
Maybe I should take this seriously. Leave my sheep at home instead of pursuing this out of spite.
“I think I’m just going to go back to the hotel,” I finally mumble to Milo. I look out at the rain. It hasn’t let up.
“Any reason you hesitated in the first place?”
I grimace. “Rain. It’s going to ruin my hair. I put a lot of work into it this morning.” Romantic tucks aren’t for extremely nappy hair like mine. I spent hours straightening my curls flat. One step into the wet, and my hard work is gone. I can’t believe I’m vain enough to whine about this when I accused Raihan of the same thing.
Milo hums in thought. “Hold on a second.”
He pulls off his ascot, and I stammer when he approaches, but Milo just hushes me. He wraps my hair up like he’s done this before, making sure every strand is hidden under the scarf, and he ties it below my chin. I hold my breath like an idiot, throat jumping when his coarse fingers brush my neck.
“Milo, you don’t have to—”
“Sure I do. Can’t let a fellow farmer ruin her hair, can I?” He takes the hat off his head and fits it on mine, and then, he smiles. “There we go,” he says. “Hair is protected!”
I flush, and I look at the floor. My toes curl in my sandals. “Shouldn’t you be in there? Isn’t it a gym leader requirement?”
“I can come back and fulfill all my gym leader requirements,” Milo says. “Gotta make sure the future Champion makes it back to her hotel safely, right? Especially if you’ve had a sour night.”
I peek up at him. His hair is creased from wearing his hat, and I can’t help the smile that sneaks to my face. “Looks like someone else’s hair could use some work.”
“Who, me? Naw, this is fine.” He fluffs it up with his fingers, sending red curls flying everywhere. My stomach flips.
Okay Mamaw, you can be a little bit right.
He takes my hand and tugs me toward the exit. The doors whiz open and the din of the rain fills the empty entry hall. At the last second, I hear him hum again, and he shrugs out of his jacket—
“Milo, NO, you’ve done enough to—”
“And what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer my coat to a lady?” I can’t do too much to fight him. I slip into a suit coat that dwarfs my slim frame. You could fit three of me in this thing. It smells like hay, musky closet, and some sort of sweet smelling cologne I can’t place.
I button the front buttons and clench the lapels closed. Milo takes my hand again and grins. His nose scrunches up with the motion. “You ready?”
“Ready.”
“Let’s go!”
I squeal when the first sheet of raindrops dump over me, but Milo and I go running through the rain. The hotel is just next door, but we have to cover a huge parking lot, the turf cutting a marker between the buildings, and the hotel parking lot. By the time we make it to the awning of the hotel, even if it’s barely a couple minute’s run, we’re soaking wet and laughing.
“The hair?” he asks. I take off his hat and untie the ascot. Milo grins. “Intact! Mission accomplished, ma’am.”
I give him the items back, and as he puts his hat back on, I stare at his chest because. Oh my. The rain and that white button up is a criminal combination. How the hell did he pour into that shirt in the first place?
My face blushes hot again. I look at the soaked hem of my skirt. “Um, this is yours too,” I say to him. I shrug out of his coat, shivering because now I’m wet and cold.
“Thanks.” He pulls it on even though it’s wet too and not going to protect him at all from the elements. He brushes dripping, red curls from his face and smiles at me. “So I’ll see you at my gym soon with those wooloo, right?”
After people belittling my sheep, my heart feels buoyant at his words. “Sure will,” I say.
“You better train up hard. First time dynamaxing can be scary, so it’s good to practice in the wild area.” I take his advice to heart. “I’ll be rooting for you, Bonnie.”
“Thank you.” When he turns, I jump. “Oh, Milo!” He looks back. I chafe my cold arms and add, “Can you tell Leon and Hop I’m sorry I bailed? I know they wanted me there.”
“No problem.” He smiles again. “You have a good night, Bonnie.”
“You too, Milo.”
He disappears into the rain, hustling back to the party even though he’s going to be drenched from head to toe now. I sigh. When I can’t see him anymore, I squeeze rainwater from my skirts and resolve to take a hot shower so I don’t catch a cold.
I reach up and touch my hair. It’s really dry and still straight and holding. I’ll have to get a shower cap so I don’t ruin my hard work and Milo sacrificing his clothes.
If you can believe it, this basically spawned as a "romance that hot Raihan for fun" fic thanks to 5sos's Teeth but then MILO came in and RUINED EVERYTHING. (Thank you, Milo.)
Also, I curbstomped Hop in-game and was VERY thankful for the ability Run Away in the wild area, woof.
TEAM WOOLOO:
Dottie: Hardy. Highly curious. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Atticus: Relaxed. Quick to flee. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Dawson: Adamant. Takes plenty of siestas. Fluffy.
Gloria: Impish. Impetuous and silly. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Henrietta: Careful. Has a sturdy body. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Blanche: Brave. Is mischievous. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Also, I curbstomped Hop in-game and was VERY thankful for the ability Run Away in the wild area, woof.
TEAM WOOLOO:
Dottie: Hardy. Highly curious. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Atticus: Relaxed. Quick to flee. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Dawson: Adamant. Takes plenty of siestas. Fluffy.
Gloria: Impish. Impetuous and silly. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Henrietta: Careful. Has a sturdy body. Run Away. (Steadfast)
Blanche: Brave. Is mischievous. Run Away. (Steadfast)
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Sweet, charming Milo and stupid, sexy Raihan. I love it. They're such a stark contrast to each other, it's actually pretty funny that this is the triangle. 
