MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 202X

Of course I knew what festival DA Woods was talking about. Even with the sheer number of such events that could be described as festivals that were held every year in Pastoria City, there could be no doubt about it.

Nearly a year later, when I sat before a vindictive district attorney trying to explain myself, I would look back on the night of the Scholastic Festival as "when it all began." In my mind, there was a clear demarcation between the land of Before and the land of After, and that dividing line was September 4. (Later, I would call that day September 4 just like many countries name a traumatic day in their history by its calendar date. I found it rather fitting.)

So, before we get to the hard part, it's probably best to talk about the parts of that evening that were not so traumatic. One might consider this an attempt to "butter myself up", much like those delicious soft pretzels sold all over Pastoria City that were my perennial weakness.

The Scholastic Festival, as corny as that name may sound, is held annually on the evening before classes start in Pastoria City's public schools. You see, I come from a place that places a high value on wit and learning, and most residents take pride in their education, with some notable exceptions. Students at these schools were not required to attend the event, but peer pressure meant that the vast majority of them did anyway. And peer pressure, as I would soon find out, can be a very powerful thing indeed.

Every year, the festival takes place at the Temple of Entei. It's a wonderfully grand structure that spreads out over quite a few acres. Some may call the souvenir shops located on either side of the main "street" a tourist trap - others might talk about it as the number one experience all travelers to Pastoria should have at least once. Perhaps both of those things are true.

The decision to host the event at the Temple of Entei, of course, was a highly controversial one, and it remains so to the present day. Those far more reasonable than myself would often argue that it made little sense for a festival celebrating brains to take place at a temple devoted to a Legendary Pokemon known for nothing but brawn. But it doesn't matter, not to the concerned parents who take their kids here to buy good-luck charms that might aid them in the academic year to come.

And in the midst of it all, there was me. An incoming high school senior who wasn't particularly tall, neither skinny nor plump, with a mop of blonde hair and a striped T-shirt. Who was I, exactly?

"Come on, Jeff! Let's enjoy tonight!" I exclaimed, trying to inject enthusiasm into my voice that just wasn't there.

My Pokemon partner, whom I'd received as a gift when I was ten just like any other trainer, stood beside me, awkwardly on the concrete. He was just like me in many ways - shy, clumsy, and prone to hyperfixations, intense interests that some might consider odd. Kindred spirits, my mother had called us - we'd quickly become nearly inseparable.

Jeff squirmed. His long beak slanted toward the ground in front of him, and while I might not have been the best at reading emotions, I knew exactly what he betrayed here. It was exactly the way I felt.

"It'll be okay, Jeff. We'll have a very pleasant evening here at the Scholastic Festival. We'll talk to some of my human friends, and then we'll head home and get ready for school tomorrow."

Again, make no mistake about it: This was as much for my own benefit as for my Psyduck's. I wasn't necessarily "quaking in my boots" at the prospect of spending time here, but my stomach was growling. (During puberty I'd grown quite familiar with the growl associated with the need for food. This was nothing like that.)

My Psyduck partner shifted awkwardly on the pavement, and I realized that he was positively petrified. This went well beyond what some might call "social jitters" - Jeff really did not want to be here. Moreover, he didn't even want to use his words to articulate what, exactly, scared him.

By now, the sun had just slipped behind the sparse array of skyscrapers in the distance, and some of the temple's lights had turned on. The area was abundantly decorated for this special occasion, with various stands set up selling everything from food, to items akin to Christmas crackers, to items that would be more immediately relevant for a student like mechanical pencils and notebooks.

"Hey, Mutsamudu!"

I knew exactly whom that voice emanated from. It wasn't good news, and I felt tempted to run pell-mell in the opposite direction. No amount of speed would be too much to avoid being confronted by this guy.

No. This could be a new school-year resolution: Standing up to those who are determined to torment me to the point of tears. There will not be tears tonight.

"Oh, great. It's you again" I muttered. "What do you want, McBride?"

"I just want to talk for a bit," Corey McBride announced, stepping out from behind one of the temple's stands where a woman was selling good-luck charms. "Is that a crime?"

"Forgive me," I snarled, "but considering the way you treat me most of the time, you'll understand why I'm far from eager to have a conversation right now. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay, Mutsamudu!" Corey bellowed. "Besides, why is your last name so hard to pronounce?"

"That's a 'you' problem, not a 'me' problem" I told him. "There are plenty of guides on how to pronounce my name - you just haven't looked hard enough."

Jeff had his paws on his ears now, as though trying his best to block sound out. Of course, having been his partner for a good eight years now, I knew exactly what this meant.

He's focusing!

"What I'll never understand, McBride," I began, "is why you put so much effort into cheating on the tests. Wouldn't it be really stressful to get caught?"

This was true. Corey and his gang were known throughout the school for using less-than-legitimate means to gain an advantage on any assignments they could. It occurred so frequently that the authorities had basically given up any effort to stop it. They didn't even bother to give him more than a slap on the wrist, and even that was an exception, not a rule.

"Some things just don't make sense to you, Mutsamudu," Corey snapped. "Like why some people just don't like studying!"

I winked at my Psyduck. "You know what to do, Jeff."

"Hold up, bro, what are you doing?"

A split second after Corey had finished that question, an invisible hand yanked him by the ankle, and he was hoisted ten feet into the air. Right away, his face blushed, though whether that was from embarrassment or the blood rushing to his head, I couldn't have told you.

"Treat the world with more respect, McBride" I announced in a tone I rarely heard myself use. "Because if you refuse to do so, don't be surprised when it refuses to go along with how you would prefer things!"

"Get me down, Mutsamudu! Aren't you afraid you'll get suspended?"

"I don't care," I muttered. "It's self-defense, the way I see it. You'll get what you deserve."

"Still, you don't want people to notice!" Corey exclaimed frantically.

Quite frankly, I think the ship's already sailed on that front.

Indeed, a small crowd had gathered around us. Being that I was the designated "loner" at school, I barely recognized any of their faces. Most of their mouths were fully agape, utterly in awe at the scene transpiring ten feet above them.

"Let me down!" Corey begged me again. And there was something satisfying about hearing my longtime bully beg me for mercy, I will admit.

"I will if you say please" I insisted. "Just because you're hovering in midair doesn't mean that manners are unimportant."

"Okay, please!" Corey yelled. "Whatever you want! Just get me down! And please do not drop me headfirst."

"That can be arranged" I said, gesturing to Jeff so that he'd get the message.

Seconds later, Corey dropped to his knees on the ground, clutching his probably aching head. He didn't look thrilled, and I expected him to fly into a rage at any moment.

To my surprise, this rage did not come. Instead, as soon as Corey had his bearings back, he turned tail and began briskly striding deeper into the festival. Maybe he would tattle on me, maybe he wouldn't, but either way…

"We should probably get out of here, Jeff," I told my Psyduck. "It's just not wise to stick around after something like that."

DA Woods: So upon letting Corey McBride down from his "flight", shall we say, you fled the scene?

Mr. Mutsamudu: I wouldn't say I "fled." That word implies I was frantic - I was anything but.

DA Woods: But if you thought what you were doing was right, why did you feel the need to leave the festival? My impression was that you quite enjoyed it.

Mr. Mutsamudu: I've been there every year since I can remember. I could skip some of it this year and not feel like I've missed anything.

DA Woods: Fair enough. But I wonder…why did you levitate Corey McBride? Did you get any pleasure from humiliating him?

Mr. Mutsamudu: He'd been my bully for all of high school. That day he just pushed me too far. He should have known better.

DA Woods: I would caution you against making statements like that, Mr. Mutsamudu. If this case goes to trial, nobody will trust your word if you act so vindictive.

Mr. Mutsamudu: You're one to talk.

After that, Jeff and I made our way to a forested park not far from the festival. Within it, there was a shrine dedicated to Lugia, as well as numerous barrels of some form of alcohol. (My brain was my greatest asset, so I refused to drink any.)

Contrary to what I'd later tell Brett Woods during my testimony, I kept looking over my shoulder. At any moment, I half-expected flashing lights to appear behind me, and my wrists cuffed behind my back. Then, like in so many crime shows, I'd be read my rights, blah blah blah. And I'd be carted off to the local police precinct, get a mugshot that would show up in tomorrow's paper…we all know the routine by now, don't we?

None of that happened, though, and after a while I allowed myself to relax. It was rather paradoxical that this shrine, dedicated to a Legendary Pokemon known sometimes as the Earthshaker, was quite a peaceful place to be. But as Corey might say, some things just don't make sense.

"We're safe here," I told Jeff. "Lugia is going to watch over us until we're ready to leave its shrine."

Of course, was this really true? I had my doubts. But, since the Psyduck had helped me so much, I figured I might as well return the favor whenever I could. If that meant calming him down now, so be it.

"Where are we going now?" Jeff asked.

Truth be told, I hadn't given that much thought. It struck me then that holing up on the grounds of the Temple of Lugia would only do us so much good once we left and were surrounded by a mob of reporters - and again, that's if the old stories were true.

If.

"We'll hang out here for a while. And then we'll take the subway back home. As far as Mom or Dad will ever know, I will have spent the entire evening at the Scholastic Festival. They'll never be any the wiser."

The evening air was getting chilly, so I proposed that we wait inside one of the temple's buildings. Some of them were open to the public, after all.

Along the path leading to said building, however, it happened. The event that would change my life - now, and I think forever.

"Oh hello, young man."

I shivered again, though this time it wasn't from the decreasing temperatures. Rather, it was a sixth sense that told me not all was as it had seemed. We weren't alone here, though that should have been obvious by now.

I'm pretty sure this guy wasn't here a few seconds ago. Or maybe he was and I just didn't notice - Arceus knows I can get caught up in my own mind sometimes.

Well, against my own better judgment, I turned in the man's direction. Once I saw him, though, I found it hard to believe I'd feared him so much.

He was probably on the wrong side of middle age, judging by his thinning white hair and the sparse network of wrinkles that coursed their way across his face. The man was slightly taller than average, and he was breathing heavily, huffing and puffing every few seconds.

"Must have been tough getting here," I said blankly.

I noticed then that the man stood next to an apparatus that was a similar size and shape to those balloon carts you'll often see at a carnival. Despite his evident shortness of breath, the man was smiling brightly.

"Oh, I've done tougher" the man told me, gesturing at the items attached to the cart. And that's when I noticed that his wares were another item that would fit right at home in a carnival: Masks of different creatures in a veritable rainbow of colors.

Masks of different Pokemon.

"Did you run all the way up here? Is that why you're breathing so heavily?"

The man narrowed his eyes. In a tone that sounded like an exaggerated cowboy accent, he said: "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Fair enough" I mumbled. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," the man told me. "My name is Clint. Clint Cargile. What can I get you today?"

"Uh…" I began, the first drops of sweat forming in my palms. "You sell masks, it looks like? Carnival masks?"

"Why, yes!" Clint announced in a gratuitously grandiose fashion. "These masks aren't just for the carnival, though! You can wear them whenever you like!"

"Well, of course I can wear it when I want to," I muttered. "I just might get odd looks when I do."

"Don't you already get those looks, young man?"

"I have a name, you know" I said automatically. And, though it probably wasn't wise to give my full name to a complete stranger, he had given me his, so here went nothing.

"I'm Makoto Mutsamudu" I finished. "But why do you think I get looked at funny all the time?"

"Sometimes I just know things," Clint answered. "Things, Makoto, that you just don't understand. There's more."

I shrugged. "Continue."

"I'm sure there's something you want here. Maybe you want to impress that special someone in your life, or maybe you just want to have a mask on hand for the next carnival. In that case, I'll give you one of these for only twenty Poke."

"Twenty?", I exclaimed, because I would have expected a price at least twice that.

Clint smiled. "Today's a special day, one everyone in Pastoria City loves to celebrate. Of course, when you get to be my age, it's just another day. Unless you're a teacher."

If I'd been paying more attention to my surroundings, I would have been acutely aware that Jeff was squirming yet again, shaking one of his legs in order to stimulate his senses or whatever. Hopefully it wouldn't end with this mask salesman floating in midair, or else there'd be twice as many questions. (And there were already a lot!)

But at that moment, I think I just wanted an excuse to part with some money, to say that I had something to show for my night out. So I handed Clint the cash.

"So what mask would you like?" he enquired. "The top row is all Eeveelutions, but let's be honest, those are overused. And then Zoroark and Lucario, as well as their pre-evolved forms, are on the fourth row from the top. But again, they're kind of overrated, though some may disagree."

It didn't take long for me to realize that Clint was a pretty big nerd about masks. Then again, aren't we all nerds about something?

I'm going to break the mold somehow. I swear that much.

"I'll take that one in the lower left corner," I said. "Furret, right?"

There was no particular reason why that came to my mind first. I guess I just loved those cute, beady brown eyes and thought they'd look good on me.

Clint handed me the mask, and then held up a hand like a stop sign. "Don't put it on yet" he explained.

"Why not?" I asked. "Shouldn't I want to, I dunno, make sure it fits?"

"It's just not wise to don one of my masks without knowing what it means. There's always more than meets the eye."

"You could say that about a lot of things," I muttered.

"Indeed you could. But let me tell you something, Makoto: These masks can work miracles. You can literally move mountains with some of them."

"What do you mean? They're just carnival masks."

By now, Jeff was doing a dance that roughly approximated a hybrid between a rain dance and one done when someone really needs to urinate. I was only vaguely aware of this, of course.

"They are carnival masks, yes, but they are so much more. Makoto, are you unsatisfied with your purchase?"

"Uh, no" I said.

"Of course not!" Clint replied, clapping despite being out of breath. "That's because the customer is always right! And if I cannot please my customers, I have failed!"

"Plus," I told him, "I only paid 20 Poke for this. It's not that big a loss if I decide I don't like it later on."

"That's the spirit! I told you you'd be happy with your purchase!"

By now the sky was almost completely dark, and I was starting to get anxious. Of course, there's not much crime in Pastoria City (or at least, that's what I believed at the time.) But there are still areas where you'd rather not be after astronomical dusk.

"I should get going," I told Clint. "Thanks."

"No, thank you for supporting my business, Makoto. You paid me for it, after all."

"It was only 20 Poke, remember?"

Now, remember how many times it was said that things aren't always as they seem?

Well, consider this: I kept insisting that I hadn't paid much for the mask. And that was true; on the surface, it only cost twenty Poke. And that's a steal compared to many fancier carnival masks.

However, in reality, it carried a much higher price. That price just wouldn't be paid exclusively in Poke.