FLOOD [Pokémon]

Chapter 22: A Turnaround

DARWIN

Friday, March 23, 2018

"Yo, Snowman." Thomas wore a sh*t-eating grin as he leaned around the foamy wall of the cubicle. "How goes it?"

I didn't look away from the plastic Ursaring dummy in the corner, which Don was also contemplating, albeit a little anxiously. Full-body-tackle training again today, this time with a jump added to hit the sternum. Brick the Kecleon stood beside him, licking his eyeballs and giving the Smeargle some friendly encouragement. He looked up when Thomas came in, and went over.

"Hey!" Thomas offered a low-five, and Brick smacked the palm of his hand with his tongue. "How're you doin', pal? Learn anything cool while I've been away?"

The Kecleon nodded enthusiastically before going back over to the dummy. Poking Don aside, he took a combat stance and leapt straight into the air, lashing his tongue around the dummy's neck like a noose and pulling it to the floor. Thomas's eyebrows jumped up.

"Whoa. Hot." He gave a slow clap and glanced at me. "You teach him that?"

I barely managed a nod. I'd looked up some basic Kecleon fighting moves and used them to keep Brick busy during the last two training sessions while I concentrated on Don. According to the Paper Pokédex, Kecleons had very versatile tongues, and sure enough, Brick had picked up both Lick and the Garrote quickly. Unfortunately, I didn't know how effective they would be on someone as resilient as Jamie the Vigoroth.

Why do you give a f*ck? You probably won't be around to his fight at Midterm anyway.

My lungs shrank. Stop. Deep breath.

"So." Thomas slouched over. "What's on the menu for today? Sorry I had to skip the last two sessions. See, I kinda had a—"

"Darwin." Mr. McDaniel's head suddenly popped into the cubical. He oversaw the gym during Training Hall, but really only interfered when it was important. My stomach rolled over as he said, "Mr. Marshall's been asking after you. Wants to know the status of two essays he assigned you? I told him I'd ask."

Prick. I should've known that he would be on my back about those. But it felt ridiculous to be pestered about two assignments I'd gotten just on Monday, especially when the Sergeant knew Midterms were steamrolling our way. Unfortunately, he wasn't the type to let stuff lie – or extend sympathy.

In fact, no Battle Branch staff did; that was probably why it felt like they'd been riding my ass since Principal Reyes had slapped me with academic probation. Marshall had been downright gleeful during Combat II today, going so far as to grin as he'd ordered me out of line and back to the Rose Building at the start of water-type training. Once inside, Mr. Kelley had given me ownership of a rickety old custodial cart, and I'd set to work mopping, sweeping, wiping, and dusting every inch of every classroom. And no, Mr. Kelley, Coach Mack, Mr. Mason, Mr. Andrews, and every other soul in the Rose Building had found no problem in pointing out microscopic specks of dust I'd missed or making me redo a room. If I had a dime for every time I'd heard, "You missed a spot," I could've paid off half of my goddamn fine already.

"Sorry I've...been busy," I told Mr. McDaniel, a little desperately. Busy being in a hole I could barely see out of. "I'm working on them, though. They should be done by next week."

He nodded, gave Thomas a hard look, then disappeared.

"What was that about essays?" Thomas asked, alarmed. "I didn't miss anything, did I? Arceus knows I don't need more work on my plate right now."

"No, they're..." I swallowed the rest; suddenly I was overcome by the violent urge to lash out and break Thomas's teeth. This guy was allowed to stroll into Training Hall late, let someone else train his pointer, abandon his swim buddy, slack off, and otherwise do whatever the hell he wanted... Whereas one mistake landed me on academic probation and janitor duty, and on top of that—