TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5

Not for the first time, I found myself at the breakfast table in the apartment I shared with my parents, forced to tell a lie. Okay, really it was a lie of omission, but that still meant I was being less than truthful with my folks.

But Makoto, you might tell me. Your parents gave you the gift of life. Why wouldn't you be honest with them when it matters most?

However, I had to begrudgingly agree with my bully. Sometimes things just didn't make sense, no matter how hard you tried to synthesize the information you got.

"Makoto," my mother said, "please pass the Kalos toast."

I did as I was told, and then my mom took another slice from the platter. She then covered it with a variety of berries.

"How was the festival last night?" my dad asked me in between bites of his sausage. "Did you make any new friends?"

I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was supposed to answer this question in the affirmative. My parents expected me to be social at the festival, as well as any other major event I went to, and if I wasn't, I would have failed them. At least, that's how I saw it.

"Yeah, I did," I lied. "His name's Clint."

Now, maybe Clint would end up a friend of mine. It depended on just how useful the mask ended up being. But only time would tell.

"That's nice" my mother told me as she sliced her Kalos toast. "So where does he live?"

"Uh…" I muttered. "I don't know. Didn't ask him."

"That's fair," my mom replied. "Some people don't like giving out information like that right away. And there's nothing wrong with that - people guard their identities so much nowadays."

"True" my dad agreed, gulping down another bit of sausage. "How odd is it that even though we live among more people than ever before, we are also more anonymous than ever before?"

I did not have any patience for these philosophical ramblings. I took a swig of almond milk, steeling myself for whatever the next question might be.

"So Makoto," my mom began, "did you buy anything at the festival?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Pardon me?"

"You know what it means to buy something, don't you?" my dad enquired, raising one of his eyebrows. "It means to exchange -".

"I know, Dad! Arceus, you don't need to baby me like that. I'm not the airhead so many expect me to be!"

"But my question still remains," my mother continued. "What did you buy?"

"Uh…a couple notebooks, some mechanical pencils, and a calculator" I responded in little more than a whisper.

This was a lie. All one of my parents would need to do is search through my backpack, and it wasn't a particularly large one either. Within seconds, they would know that the items I specified were absent, and then they'd have even more questions. Questions, moreover, that I had no desire to answer.

"That's good," my mom replied. "It's always important to be a diligent student, and I see that as evidence that you're doing exactly that. I'm proud of you, Makoto."

It should have been gratifying to hear those words from my mother, the woman who gave me life, but they actually felt like a leaden weight in my chest that would keep my heart from beating. What if she knew that those words of praise were based on a falsehood?

"I should get going," I told my parents. "The subway won't wait for me if I'm late. You know how it is here - they're always on time."

"True" my father told me. "Just remember everything that's in your bag. And stay out of trouble, you hear me?"

"Right!" I exclaimed, swinging my navy blue backpack over my shoulders, grabbing the Pokeball that contained Jeff, and heading out the door.

It was still fairly early in the morning, so the streets weren't that crowded yet. It's all relative, of course - once traffic picks up, Pastoria City could become quite chaotic. It wasn't nearly as insane as Jubilife, though.

My apartment complex was near the local subway station, and I descended the steps without a word. Jeff took a little more time on the stairs, though - his feet were not suited to the task.

"Why can't you keep me in my Pokeball for things like this? Stairs are my worst nightmare!"

"Because," I told him, "I'd rather have you out here. Isn't it so pleasant hanging out with me?"

"It is," Jeff responded curtly, "except when you make me go down the stairs. Last thing I want is to fall and break my neck."

"That's not going to happen," I assured my Psyduck. "I've got you. You can hold my hand if you want."

Jeff looked horrified by the suggestion, and I swiftly dropped that idea. Soon enough, we were on the train.

The whole way, I was acutely aware that I'd left my Furret mask back at home. This didn't seem too important, of course - it was just a carnival mask after all, and there was no need to panic. If it held some supernatural power, my parents would probably never be able to awaken it.

Of course, I hadn't told them about the mask either. They'd likely be mildly surprised to find it in my room, and they'd have a few questions for their son, but beyond that, it wouldn't be a very big issue. It only cost me 20 Poke!

You might think that, Makoto. But you don't know the real cost.

The "real cost" is that Clint had to spend the time crafting it. But that's his job. He's willing to do that if you and others will pay for the masks. That's how our society functions, for better or worse.

The ride to Pastoria High was largely uneventful. That is, until an announcement came over the sound system. (Normally, this sound system is used to mention which stop is next on the line so that passengers know when to disembark from the train.)

But this announcement was different. The beep was similar to that of an ambulance's siren, not something I was used to hearing on the metro.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the disembodied female tone announced, "I have a very important announcement to make.

"As a result of an incident on the Magenta Line, trains heading to the Academic District are going to be delayed, including this one, by up to three to five minutes. We apologize for the inconvenience."

The passengers around me, most of whom had been glued to their phones prior to the announcement, were now rapt to attention.

"A delay?" a young man bellowed, balling his fists. "By three to five minutes?"

"Hey, calm down, kid" a middle-aged woman chastised him. "The most important thing is that whoever the incident happened to is okay. If it means we have to take a few more minutes to arrive, then so be it."

Pastoria City's subway was normally renowned for its punctuality. If a train was delayed by more than a few minutes, it would be a scandal of immense proportions, and it would remain in the news for potentially several weeks. Today's delay, even, would get at least a passing mention in the nightly news broadcast.

All of that is to say: I understood why the young man was upset. I really did. And I thanked Arceus above that I'd allowed myself some extra time to arrive at school, because I would need it today.

Well, we arrived at the Academic District's station after a delay of a few minutes. No big deal. At least, I didn't think it was a big deal.

As I strode confidently up the path leading through the courtyard to one of Pastoria High's main academic buildings, my Psyduck did not appear nearly so nonchalant. His paws were over his eyes.

"Jeff, you shouldn't cover your eyes. You need to see where you're going, at least."

I could still hear him squirm to no small degree, though. Something was bugging Jeff, and as the good trainer that I was, I refused to rest until I found out what it was.

"Hey, Mutsamudu!" came a bellowing call.

For a moment, my heart froze. Time seemed to stop as I recalled that the voice sounded almost exactly like that of Corey McBride. He was ready to take his vengeance on me for humiliating him at last night's festival.

Is this going to be a schoolyard brawl? Are we going to fight for supremacy, or however that saying goes?

However, it was not my longtime bully who accosted me in the yard that day. Rather, it was someone who pretended to be on your side most of the time, even when this was far from the truth in actuality.

"Oh, hello. Principal Lenwood?"

Asher Lenwood, a somewhat large man with a mop of black yet graying hair, was the dean of students at Pastoria High. He stood before me, extending his right hand.

"Eh, I'd rather not shake it," I mumbled. "A bit of a germaphobe, I am."

The dean of students narrowed his eyes. "You are in no position to be making demands of me, Mr. Mutsamudu. I am your superior, after all."

"I won't forget that" I promised, shaking his hand. "Is there any reason you wanted to talk to me, though? It's the first day of school."

"I am well aware of that," Principal Lenwood responded, "but you're already in a heap of trouble, young man."

"What? Why?" I enquired.

"Don't play dumb with me, Mr. Mutsamudu. You've seen the news, and who else could it be?"

That's when I realized: Of course. He's talking about the levitation incident.

"Come with me. We're heading to my office for your interview."

Reluctantly, I followed the dean of students across the common green and into the school's office building. I counted myself lucky to have only visited said office a handful of times, because it wasn't a place you wanted to end up.

As soon as I entered the office and sat down, I remembered exactly what all of Pastoria High's students dreaded about the room. It wasn't just the imposing presence of Principal Lenwood, though that was obviously a factor.

The room was also decorated in a very strange manner. Right behind the bulky form of the dean of students, there were two vinyl records taped to the wall. One was for punk rock quartet Billy Talonflame, while the other was for rapper Lil' Meningitis. (I did not ask why he enjoyed musicians with such ridiculous stage names. He'd probably lash out at me if I did.)

"So, Mr. Mutsamudu" Principal Lenwood began. "I presume you know why you are here today? You know why I've pulled you away from classes this fine morning?"

"I don't" I said automatically. Deny, deny, deny. That was my only hope to escape the punishment that would be heading my way if I was caught.

"Pardon me?" the dean of students enquired.

I shook my head again. "I have no idea."

Principal Lenwood raised an eyebrow. "So you have no idea why you are here today?"

"Nope. Whatever happened - that's news to me. So please enlighten me, Principal."

The dean of students still appeared to have a bad stench under his nose. Maybe that was my imagination, but that's exactly what his facial expression suggested. Not that it mattered, of course - I was in hot water, and I knew it.

"An eyewitness testimony stated that Corey McBride was lifted off his feet and flipped upside down at the Scholastic Festival last night" Principal Lenwood stated simply.

"Really?" I asked. "That's news to me."

The dean of students raised an eyebrow yet again. "You didn't hear about that? It's in the school paper - first thing on the front page, on the first day too. Are you sure this is the first you've heard?"

"Why would I lie to you, Principal?"

"Well, look at it this way, Mr. Mutsamudu: There would be no point in lying if you were innocent."

Although my Psyduck had indeed been the culprit, I still felt some degree of righteous anger toward the dean of students. Of course, it was better not to let it show, because that would only make me look guiltier.

"What makes you think I had anything to do with it?" I enquired, trying to make it sound like a genuine question and not an attempt at deflection.

"Well, look at it this way, Mr. Mutsamudu" Principal Lenwood responded. "The description given by the eyewitness, who didn't appear to know your name, gave a description that fit you roughly to a T. Besides, based on what I've witnessed at school, you would seem to have the motive to do something like this."

I felt my spine stiffen as I responded thusly: "What reason would I have to get myself in trouble?"

"People don't always behave rationally, Mr. Mutsamudu, and I think it's okay to admit that" the dean of students replied. "But the fact remains that you and Mr. McBride have had…disagreements recently, and it isn't unthinkable that you would want to take revenge."

"Disagreements? He's bullied me for years!" I'd been holding back the outburst, but it burst forward like a torrential rainstorm, or a mighty, raging river held back by a dam.

I was in trouble before. I was in worse trouble now.

"Nonetheless, young man, that only proves my point further. A motive has been established, has it not?"

Before I could object, Principal Lenwood jabbed his right pointer finger right at my face.

"Look. I cannot prove definitively that it was you, just like you can't prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wasn't you. The eyewitness did not have the presence of mind to photograph the incident."

"But I can't make anyone levitate," I protested. On some level, I knew I was digging my metaphorical grave deeper, but I did not care. Damage control could be done later.

"That's what they all say" the dean of students snarled. "But you have a Psyduck as your Pokemon partner, and that species can easily make levitation occur. And that's something you want to be very careful with, Mr. Mutsamudu."

"So you're going to throw me in detention?" I hypothesized. "Based on something I didn't do?"

Principal Lenwood shrugged. "Is that what you want? Why would you want that?"

I was a bit taken aback, honestly.

"Well, that's not what I want, Principal. But if you really think I did it -".

"Just get out of my office, please!" the dean of students boomed, banging a fist on his desk. "I don't want to see you unless you're in trouble, and I don't want you to get in trouble!"

I blinked several times to make sure my ears were not deceiving me. Did he really just let me go with no consequences?

Still, I wasn't going to complain. I picked up my backpack, trying not to do so either too quickly or too slowly. The best way to not look guilty was simply to act natural, like I would if I hadn't just endured a harsh lecture from the dean of students.

Just before I left earshot of Principal Lenwood, I heard him mutter the following sentence, quietly enough that I almost doubted it was meant for me: "This can't happen again."

DA Woods: So you left the principal's office that day without admitting anything?

Mr. Mutsamudu: Of course I did. What was I supposed to do? He wanted me out of his sight.

DA Woods: Or was that merely an excuse to evade accountability for your actions? Has that become a pattern?

Mr. Mutsamudu: A pattern? I don't think so. It's just something that happened. If I didn't have to be punished, why would I go through that? They've got some pretty strict punishments at Pastoria High.

DA Woods: But you were able to lie so easily to the dean of students. If you could sit before him and tell a falsehood, what reason do I have to suppose that your words are true right now?

Mr. Mutsamudu: Because I'm under oath, aren't I?

DA Woods: Of course, but people lie under oath all the time. It might be a serious offense, but people commit crimes despite the fact that they're against the law. That's why they're called crimes.

Mr. Mutsamudu: Well, I like to walk on the straight and narrow.

DA Woods: How can you honestly expect me to believe that when you lied in a situation with far lower stakes?

Mr. Mutsamudu: Because those were lower stakes. I wouldn't get in as much trouble for lying then. Besides, this is just going to trap us in a circle. Can we move on?

DA Woods: Yes, let's.

The class periods were just the same as they always were on the first day of school. We were given a syllabus for each course so that we'd know what to expect, and there was little in the way of actual content.

Moreover, the beautiful blue skies outside the buildings made me even more cognizant of just how much I was missing out on. It was what those in the skiing hobby referred to as a "bluebird day", without a cloud in sight. Moreover, the temperatures were just perfect for this time of year.

But of course, we were trapped inside. As I shuffled from class to class, I could do nothing but savor those few moments when I had fresh air to breathe, a breeze against my face, and class a few minutes later.

Eventually, it was time for lunch, and we all lined up in the cafeteria to receive our meals. Everyone got the same lunch no matter what, so there was absolutely no suspense as I waited for my turn to receive my portion of food.

I received my tray. Today lunch consisted of chicken satay (complete with peanut sauce) and chive dumplings, with an apple apiece on the side. As far as school lunches went, I'd seen a lot worse. Maybe things were looking up, albeit only slightly. (We were also allowed to bring our food outside into the courtyard, so I took advantage of this opportunity to soak up some Vitamin D.)

So I sat beneath a pine tree and began to eat, savoring the way the peanut sauce mixed perfectly with the chewiness of the chicken. I didn't look up from my meal until…

"Hey, Mutsamudu, come over here!"

That's not Corey. But he is one of the designated "cool boys" at Pastoria High, a rank I could never hope to achieve.

It soon became clear that I was being called by Doug Lindsey, as evidenced by his deep voice. But I had to pinch myself to be sure it was real, because Doug never approached those who were lower on the pecking order than himself!

Even so, no reason to turn it down. It might be a trap, but such an opportunity was worth an ounce of humiliation (even if I ended up with a little more than an ounce.)

"What's going on?" I enquired, trying not to sound dumbfounded.

"What's going on?" Doug repeated. "Colin, Tiny Tim - this guy feels the need to ask me what's going on."

"Well," I said with a gulp, "I'm just wondering why you would call me over like this. It's not every day that another person initiates an interaction with me."

(Indeed, on the rare occasions when I approached someone first to talk to them, it invariably ended with a heavily awkward Makoto stumbling away from the encounter. That's why I risked it less and less as time crawled on.)

"Tell him, Colin" Doug commanded one of the other boys on either side of him.

"Well," Colin Grady announced, "there's this girl on the equestrian team. I see her every time I go to practice, because she never misses a session."

"Never ever?" Doug asked.

"Never ever" Colin confirmed. "Anyway, she's really smoking hot, and I'm starting to wonder if I should ask her out on a date."

"What's her name?" the boy referred to as "Tiny Tim" wondered aloud.

Colin swiveled in Tim's direction. "Why would you need to know that?"

"Because it's kind of rude to gossip like that. Talking about a girl behind her back - it's just not polite, is it?"

"With all due respect, Tiny Tim", Colin responded, "I'm not talking trash about that girl. In fact, I'm singing her praises. She makes me want to sing. Every time I see her, I fall in love with her more."

Girls. Love. Dating? This is a world I've never visited. And I'm not sure I want to.

Psyduck was in his Pokeball right now, but if he'd been outside of it, I imagine his mental circuits would have been going haywire. It must have been quite something to behold - it was an incredible sight even for me. Especially for me.

"I don't get it," I said. "What's so special about her?"

"Why are you dissing my girl like that?" Colin shot back at me.

"I'm not dissing her," I protested. "I'm just saying, why are you talking so much about her? I don't know who she is, so enlighten me."

"Well, it's quite simple, really," Doug muttered. "Colin is head over heels for her, and once a girl has him in her mental embrace, she does not let go."

"Her name is just so perfect, though!" Colin exclaimed. "Hayley Hawkeye. Isn't it so badass?"

I did not know how to respond, so I didn't say a word. To use a "tennis" analogy like my social coaches had constantly reminded me to, I kept the ball on Colin's side of the "court."

"You shouldn't judge someone just by their name, though," Tim pointed out. "What if she turns out to be a jerk?"

My thoughts exactly, Tim!

"Well," Colin replied, "she's smoking hot. She's the best-looking girl I've ever seen, and I've seen plenty of girly magazines. But she's not in the centerfold of any of them."

"Why would she be, Colin?" Doug pointed out. "She's only eighteen."

"Well, the world's missing out on her beauty in that case" Colin muttered. "But it's not just her looks - her personality is just…". (Colin made the "OK" symbol with his right hand and emitted a sound associated with taking a long drink of water when you've been very thirsty.)

"What makes her so cool?" I asked, basically echoing one of my questions from earlier. But I didn't care too much, simply because I wanted an answer.

"I dare you to ask her out, Makoto," Colin challenged me.

I gasped. "Ask her out? Me?"
Colin narrowed his eyes. "Do you need me to repeat the question? I thought you would understand the first time I said it."

"Well, of course I understand," I said. "But why me? Why should I be the one to do it?"

"Because if you don't," Doug pointed out, "you might regret it for the rest of your life. You know what they say - you miss all the shots you don't take."

"But it's not just about missing a shot," I muttered. "If I ask her out and she rejects me…" I stiffened up at that. Perish the thought!

Colin jabbed a finger at me as he said this:

"Again, Makoto, this world favors the bold. If you're not bold enough to make the first move, how will you be sufficiently courageous for anything in life? Did you hear about what happened to Corey McBride?"

I frowned, my heart skipping a beat. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It doesn't" Doug said with a snort. "He's just testing you, to make sure you're on top of things, you know?"

"Friends shouldn't have to test one another like that" Tim mumbled.

"Maybe they don't," Colin responded. "But maybe we want to. Ever thought of that? Anyway, that's enough. Makoto, I'll text you a picture of that girl, and you can ask her for a date the next time you see her."

"I'll just be a friend, thanks" I whispered, scooting a few inches further away from Doug, Colin, and Tim.

"If you're going to connect with such a hot girl, wouldn't you want to go all the way? Why stop at friendship when you can achieve so much more?" That was Doug talking, and it grew clear that he'd taken Colin's side.

I was cornered here, unless I managed to extricate myself from the situation. I just had to think of a good excuse…

"My next class is starting soon," I said. "I'd better get ready."

None of the other three boys protested, and I had soon entered one of the nearby buildings. This was, in fact, the building containing my next class (which happened to be History of Sinnoh, for what it's worth.)

Just as I sat down in one of the hallway's armchairs, I felt my phone ping me.

That's weird, I wondered. Is it my mother reminding me to ch…no, she wouldn't. That's ridiculous.

I used a face ID to unlock my device, upon which I found that the text was actually from one Colin Grady. Of course, I thought bitterly, there's the phone book. He knew exactly where to reach me.

Do I open the picture here? I can't be seen lusting after another student in the middle of the hallway. But who's going to see me?

Eventually, I elected to do so, and I found a picture of a girl.

I hated to use the same terminology as Colin, but the girl in the photo (presumably Hayley Hawkeye) was absolutely conventionally attractive. She was tall and skinny (thought not unhealthily so) and wore a pink-and-white tracksuit, with blonde hair and blue eyes just like mine. Additionally, she was mounted on a Rapidash, holding the reins loosely in a pose that betrayed confidence that her mount wouldn't buck her.

To be fair, I only risked about a five-second glance at the photo, swiftly closing that text message immediately afterward. But it did not matter that my look had been so brief, because without meaning to, I had memorized every feature of her face.

And then I thought of something else. Something that should have been so trivial that I dismissed it out of hand. After all, it had only been 20 Poke.

Why would the mask impress her? It's just a fucking MASK.

As though trolling me for being such a noob, I practically heard the voice of Arceus just out of earshot: Oh, you sweet, sweet summer child.