The nerve; the absolute nerve. Who did that guy think he was? Take life seriously–what was that even supposed to mean? Who shoved a leek up his butt? 

 

Henry punted a stray pinecone into the racing rapids. The journey back to Campus felt longer without Chester’s antics to keep him distracted. He couldn’t believe they went on without him. Misplaced expectations told him Forge would be the definition of an upstanding gent.

 

Boy was he wrong.

 

At the very least, the guy didn’t have to be so rude about it. A simple “Sorry, but we won’t be considering you further” or something would have been leagues more tactful than “Kiss the dirt and get lost.”

 

Ok, so, maybe he didn’t actually say that, but that’s how Henry heard it, and he would remember it as such throughout the rest of his brooding night.

 

An afternoon, wasted. Though he figured the silver lining was his Track situation being resolved before Moonrise. He could sleep easy on that.

 

But Forge gave him something new to toss and turn over; another grievance to wrack his mind and soil his transcendence into the realm of dreams; at a time when sleep was all he craved, nonetheless.

 

Henry shuffled through the Gates. The Lady Guard on duty tipped her hat to him; he paid her no formalities.

 

His head only bobbed towards one goal now, and that was his bed.

 

The dorms were quiet. It wasn’t too late into the night, so the Campus was still sprawling with students doing whatever it was they wanted to do on their eve of the new tomorrow. Henry wondered if Percy would be back in their room already. He probably managed to snag his club, too. If only Henry could be more like him–a man with a plan.

 

Everybody’s got a plan till life socks ‘em in the jaw. That’s why adaptation is more important than planning. The Miltank know it; the Flaffy know it; the Tauros know it. That’s why they survive on their instincts, and not their intellect.

 

Dad said that once and once only. It was a cold night, just before the first frost of Winter. Henry was helping him cover up the windows to the barn. “Why don’t we just keep them like this all year?” naively, he had asked that question, using logic in a world run by a man who only knew his hands. Sternly, his father gave him that answer, using reason to justify his impulsive nature.

 

To err is to be the wind, and Henry’s father was very much the wind; a characteristic not passed through the genes–not to him, anyway. 

 

But such woes didn’t matter; nothing mattered once the sun went down, a rare piece of Mother’s wisdoms. “When the sun comes back up, the day will begin a new. So treat the night as its own thing. Don’t carry your tripe to bed, lest you filthy your sheets, run off your Mareeps, and spoil your sleeps.”

 

And “sleeps” were the last thing Henry wanted to spoil.

 

Though, sometimes the cruel whimsies of fate aren’t up to any one person. Rather, they are a cosmic effort from the universe, exercised to bring about a certain result. Henry wondered, as Amber loitered against his door, exactly what “result” the universe hoped to achieve by assaulting him with her two times, in one day, on no sleep.

 

“Ew, what happened to you? Mud bath?”

 

“Yes, actually...” Henry scratched at a crusty scab of filth clinging to his cheek.

 

Amber pointed down the hall, to a corner marked by golden plaques. “You know bathrooms are down that way? Showers too.”

 

Henry peeled at the bags under his eyes. This was the last thing he needed right now. Still, he didn’t want to be rude. He just needed to be patient; just be patient with her. 

 

“Well, I can’t exactly bathe without the clothes from my room, now can I?”

 

Amber twisted her nose. Surely she was smelling her own rotten attitude. “What’s up with all the hostility? You’re the one who looks like he was assaulted by a mafia of Quagsire, not me.”

 

Henry bit his lower lip, choking to swallow profanities not even his sister would utter–and she had the mouth of a sailor. “Why—why are you blocking my door…?”

 

Amber removed her book-stomping heel from the door, stepping forward on the defensive. “I’m not ‘blocking’ anything! I was waiting for you or your annoying roommate to come back and this is where I chose to stand!”

 

Henry chomped his lip, digging his teeth into the supple soft of his flesh. Now who was spitting unnecessary hostilities?

 

He pointed at Amber with all ten fingers on all two hands, using their metaphysical strength to draw her a path from the door to the spot a mere step right of it–where she should have been standing.

 

She leered him down, but there would be no Defense drops tonight–not on this level of fatigue. She huffed a breath and side-stepped to the right. “There, happy.”

 

“Not even close.”

 

Henry swung his door open. Percy was nowhere in sight; not a single one of his books was shifted. He stomped to his side of the room and retrieved the one pair of clothes he lugged along from home. 

 

He couldn’t help but notice Amber still lingering by his doorway–a painful Sticky Barb in his side. Or would she be more akin to a Poison Barb?

 

“If you have something to say, just say it and be done with it.”

 

“What is your problem? I am trying to be friendly!”

 

“This!? This isn’t ‘friendly!’ This is harassment! Maybe if you weren’t so anti-social you’d be able to recognize that! Don’t you have a whole Laboratory to sully with your bad mood? Go rain over there!”

 

Henry was a fuming mess. He was a Camerupt released of his Eruption, and it didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel good to hear the ringing in his ears, the deafening silence his yelling wrought in its wake. It didn’t feel good to see Amber’s face contort in offense.

 

“JERK!!!” A reasonable rebuttal. And the fierce Mega Kick she delivered to the door frame was warranted as well.

 

It didn’t feel good to cave to anger. There’s nothin’ a man can’t shout over that he can’t speak over. After one childhood fit–and one too many, as far as his father was concerned–he gifted Henry that piece of wisdom and led by example every time the wrong bloke crossed him. Every time, Dad would never cave; every time, he’d use his words to blow away the fumes. Dad was the wind; Dad was a strong man.

 

And Henry…he couldn’t even catch an Oddish.

 

He threw his body into the pristine fabric of his sheets, sprinkling crusty brown failure over their white. He wished Amber wasn’t always so quick to zoom off–seriously, did the girl know Extreme Speed? 

 

His tongue cursed the wild world of emotions all the preppy kids in the Institute seemed accustomed to. Back in Tinton, most spats were resolved by morning–with a nice loaf of bread, freshly made by sorry hands.

 

Henry didn’t have a gristmill or an oven on standby, but he did have legs. Metaphorically, he could still trudge up the hill to his proverbial neighbor’s door, knock real hard, and offer his apologies.

 

Not like he could sleep with Dad hanging over him anyway…

 

So, he began the walk of shame to the Professor’s Lab. While his peers hooed and hoorahed, frolicking in the fields of commerce o’ plenty along the cobble path, Henry dragged his feet, resenting their fun. How smoothly had their days gone? He bet their Tracks were instant decisions; he guaranteed their Clubs welcomed them with open arms.

 

“ —No, I’m not doing it anymore! I’m telling you, Professor, they’re all jerks! I don’t want to talk to anybody here!”

 

It wasn’t exactly a “skill” to follow the voices this time. That could only be a howling inferno raging at the end of the hallway–a calamity named “Amber.”

 

“Ok, Amber, just listen to me and breathe, ok?”

 

“No! You told me to try and join a club with that jerk and I did! But he’s a total flip and a spazz–he got all aggressive with me for no reason!”

 

“Now I’m sure there was a reason, but that doesn’t matter–you need to practice patience and understanding with peopl–”

 

“No! Punt that! What I need, is for you to get off my case about this stuff–it doesn’t matter to me! I’m here—to get my plaque—and nothing else!”

 

“Amber…” 

 

Henry tapped on the door, making his presence known. “Sorry to intrude…”

 

That blistering wrath fell on him–to its right, a poor bystander. “Well, talk about good timi–”

 

“LEAVE! NOW! You are not welcome here!”

 

Professor Sequoia placed a hand on Amber’s shoulder. “Now, Amber, let’s calm down. Everyone is welcome here.”

 

Amber swatted it away. “You’re taking his side?!”

 

“I’m not taking anybody’s side, because there are no sides. Let’s be mature about this, ok?” Professor Sequoia turned her attention to Henry. “Henry, how’d ya like that Track I recommended~?”

 

Her change of topic was appreciated. It actually managed to perk Henry up a bit. “Oh, yeah! I guess I should have told you! I didn’t know you were married, Professor!?”

 

Professor Sequoia burned a luminous crimson. “Guess that Skitty’s out of the bag~”

 

Henry managed a puff of laughter. “He said Delcatty~”

 

“I’m sure he did! You be nice to him, ok? He was really nervous about his first year here!” The Professor grabbed Amber’s shoulder again; like a cooling coal, she seemed safe enough to touch now. “Well, what about clubs? Surely that was a far easier task?”

 

Henry scuffed at the floor with his boot. “It almost was…”

 

“Care to share? In my household, talking about our problems is the fastest way to fixing them~”

 

Henry exchanged a glance with Amber. She gave him the shoulder–talk about unnecessary drama. Still, he at least owed her an apology. And the Professor was far too welcoming to deny. He took his place at the blacktop.

 

“I tried to join the Gladiators Club today…but…their Captain said a bunch of stuff that basically amounted to a ‘no’...Guess my spirits are a little low from that…but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you…Sorry, Amber. I hope you can accept my apology.”

 

Amber blew a scoff, refusing to look Henry in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess, whatever…” And that was fine. He didn’t feel he deserved the respect.

 

“See~” Professor Sequoia gave Amber two soft pats on the back. “There’s always a reason~ It’s only logical!” 

She took to pacing around the table, not towards any destination in particular–simply pacing. “Sounds pretty rough, Henry; I’m sorry things didn’t go too well, but I can’t say I’m surprised. That Club’s become quite the tight ship after Forge Ambrose became its Captain~”

 

“That guy’s a real piece of work…” Amber interjected, still refusing to meet Henry’s sight. “Thinks he’s hot stuff because he won last year’s Teapot. My sister said he was one of–if not the–most infuriatingly arrogant Freshmen of that batch. Never came to any events; never attended any ceremonies; the only time he ever participated was in that tournament. A real piece of work.”

 

“What’s a Teapot?” Asked Henry, familiar with the cookware, but he assumed this was not the context.

 

“It’s just some stupid meathead competition between a bunch of stupid meatheads and a load of barbaric battling where only the Pokémon suffer.”

 

“Aaaand,” Professor Sequoia stepped back in, “It’s a school event, which means you WILL be attending this year~”

 

“You can’t make me…” Amber grumbled under her breath.

 

So the school hosted some manner of tournament? All the more reason for Henry to mope about his lost opportunity.

 

“Turn that frown, Henry!” cheered the Professor, “Because I have a way better club for you to join! The best part? You’ll both be in it together—Whippeeee!!!”

 

“Auck!” Amber wretched, “How is that better?”

 

“You do?” At this point, Henry was desperate for anything; anything to help him sleep better.

 

The Professor smiled and rolled out her chalkboard. She erased every scribble, every curly-tailed letter from its face–wiping the slate clean. She stabbed with a smidge of chalk, striking with piercing power every stroke, every dotted “I”.

 

When she was done, she stepped aside. “I think I’m ready to reeeally start cracking this Chromata Variant thing wiiiide open! And I’ll need some ‘younger hands’ in their primes to help me!”

 

Luminous Lovelies. So the board read; so the Professor pointed out with her nub of chalk. 

 

“So that’s you two! Welcome aboard~”