FLOOD [Pokémon]

Chapter 39

^ "Brackish" (10-28-2020)

—

DARWIN

Thursday, April 5, 2018

"Okay, so it's pretty simple," I said. "I'm on one end, you're on the other, and when I say go, you come for me as fast as you can, and I clock your speed. We're going to be tested on that during Midterms, and on Dive too. But I don't think..." I trailed off, then sighed. "Brackish. Brackish."

My Tentacool jerked, and as he turned to face me once again, it occurred to me how amazing it was that I was saddled with two Pokémon that were very easily distracted, albeit in different ways. Don was just twitchy, and startled easily, but Brackish... Everything from the life jackets hanging on the pool gate to the buoys cordoning the water off into segments was a thing of f*cking interest to this guy, and doubly so if it was shiny: for five of the past fifteen minutes, he'd been staring at my belt buckle with an uncomfortable intensity, and he'd turned his fascination to my watch when it had caught the light, driving the glare of the sun across the ruby in his gelatinous skull.

It was weird and unsettling, but I guess I understood: after all, up until last weekend, this guy had led a very dull and sedentary life, drifting on the ocean currents and waiting for prey — like my leg—to come to him. Now suddenly he was somewhere else, with strange sounds, sights, and scents, with a human that he could understand standing over him, telling him to swim from one end of his pool lane to the other for no goddamn reason. Probably, I'd be distracted too. That didn't make it any less frustrating, though.

Easy. Intimacy, not irritation. I brought Nero to mind again, and the way he'd looked at Magdalene's Pokéball. That's what we want, Blakesley. We want to know Don and Brackish just like that.

If only it was that easy! Even with Don, my "power of friendship" approach was off to a rough start — for me at least. All of this smiling was exhausting, and sometimes I wondered if my continuous encouragement sounded...fake. Sometimes it did, to me, but maybe that didn't matter — slowly, it seemed to be having an effect on Don, bolstering his confidence, helping him relax. That, combined with his slow but continuous improvements in Training Hall... I was beginning to really like how he looked when he took the field, with a straight back and a bit of hardness in his eyes. He was beginning to grow a backbone.

Brackish though... If this forced positivity was having any effect on him, I couldn't see it, and quickly, I was losing my patience.

"What's this? Is it lunchtime already, Blakesley?"

I stiffened as Sergeant Marshall appeared behind me; I scrambled to my feet and saw that he didn't look pleased with me today...which wasn't anything new. "No sir, I—"

"Did I ask you to respond, recruit? Shut up when I'm talking to you." He peered around me, down into the water. "What the devil is your new friend doing? Because it doesn't look like laps or a water relay to me. In fact, it looks like he's doing Splash. Did I tell you to teach your second Splash, recruit?"

"N-no, I just—"

"Shut your mouth! WHEN I WANT AN ANSWER, I'LL SAY 'ANSWER'! Now get down: fifteen push-ups!"

Trying not to groan, I got down and did as he asked. It hurt, a lot, probably because we'd finished doing remedials just fifteen minutes ago, and six laps ten minutes before that. By the time I was done creaking out number fifteen, my arms were beginning to go numb.

"Now, I'm going to walk away," Sergeant Marshall snarled in my face, "and when I get back, that new friend of yours better be moving its keister, if it has one, through this pool end to end, or else it'll be thirty push-ups. And then sixty. And then a hundred-and-twenty. Then, you'll owe me another two essays. You understand, recruit?" When I remained silent, he jabbed my chest, almost pushing me into the pool. "Answer me, recruit."