Desolate [Pokémon Arven x Protagonist]

The Director's Announcement

I found her talking to a group of other girls. "Lugosi!" She greeted. "I didn't see you get anything."

I didn't know if I should tell her about Arven. He seemed to loathe her presence when we were at the lighthouse. "A friend shared a bite of their meal," I half lied. "I wasn't that hungry anyway. I ate breakfast at home."

"That's alright! We could eat together later at lunch or dinner." I nodded. "Classes do start tomorrow," she explained. "Today's just preparation. If I remember right, Director Clavell will call down all the new students for a short presentation, so don't fall asleep too early."

"Alright, Nemona. See you later!" I retraced my steps back to the elevator and recited my friend's words to find my dorm room. It was pretty easy to locate it with her silly rhymes. I opened my door with a scan of my ID and shut it behind me, silence engulfing the room. I opened the orange blinds to let the light in and released my two teammates to fill the unsettling quiet. Koraidon stretched and Quaxly waddled around excitedly, exploring its new trainer's home. I remember what Nemona told me, and I took out my rotom phone to scan it. The phone was able to identify it while it was peeking its head into the bathroom.

"Quaxly, the duckling Pokémon, is a pure water-type Pokémon," the rotom recited. A paragraph with general facts appeared below it along with a list of more specific facts about my particular quaxly.

"You're a male and level 14," I read aloud. The quaxly nodded excitedly. Of course, he knew about that, but he couldn't exactly communicate it to me. "I'm glad I could stop calling you 'it'. It was starting to feel like I considered you other than a companion." Pokémon were often considered as pets, but when it came to battling and strategizing with your team and learning about their moves and weaknesses, they became more like friends. "Level 14," I mumbled again. What level did Nemona say he would evolve? 16? The director was very lenient on what level starters he gave us. I was guessing that a child's first battle would be extra difficult, and an easy evolution would be very motivational.

I turned my attention to the desk with a laptop on it. I sat on the swivel chair and opened it up. The password hint told me to use my student ID number, and that got me in. The home screen was blank save for the recycling bin, a search browser, and what looked to be a spreadsheet titled Schedule. Out of curiosity, I clicked on it, only to be greeted by, unsurprisingly, a copy of my semester's schedule. I didn't know what I was expecting. It felt like my entire life was filled with unexpected results. When I did the laundry when I was told, I was beat. When I did the dishes when I was told, I was beat. When I did what I was supposed to do, I was always punished for it. The one time I didn't listen, when... my dad... died, nothing happened.

It's ¥0ur fault!

My mom was screaming, but she was always screaming—that was the one outcome I always expected—but this one time, that's all she did. I was prepared for more cruelty, but the lack of it was most surprising. What did I expect opening up a file called Schedule? I might've expected a letter of resignation directed to me, a sick prank telling me to keep dreaming about freedom, that I wasn't accepted into the academy, and to go back home. I wasn't relieved my invasive thoughts were wrong. In fact, I was a bit disappointed. I didn't know why. I didn't know why I was disappointed. Maybe I thought the bad news would come later, I didn't know.

The intercom outside made a lovely chime before I heard Director Clavell's voice: "The mandatory presentation for all new students will be taking place on the rooftop field in an hour. Please make your way up before then. If you're a returning student, please ignore this announcement." I hadn't realized so much time had passed since I had arrived at the school. I didn't know if I had to bring anything. I assumed just my Pokémon, so I called them back and started out the door. The hallway was crowded with mostly younger children whose parents had decided to start their education here. The line to the elevators was astonishingly long, so I decided to take the stairs instead. Two flights of stairs were surprisingly a workout for my already tired legs, but luckily, I was able to find room to take a seat on the faux grass before it was filled up.