Chapter 6: Cassidy Evans
Well, we’d been on the road for quite a while. And with ‘quite a while’, I mean two days. We reached Oldale Town, just an ordinary place, pretty boring compared to Littleroot which at least had a Lab. And in small patches of grass besides Oldale, Butch trained his newly healed pokemon, Ralts. By my (perhaps not very accurate, but oh well) calculations, Treecko had probably grown 3 levels, and Ralts 2. Shupster probably gained 1, which isn’t surprising. Even though I don’t train him much he’s always found time to pick a battle with some other wild pokemon 6 levels below him. I doubt Butch has succeeded with any level-counting. Boy, does he wish there’s something to actually calculate levels on without having to use his incapable brain.
In fact, I saw a few trainers on the road with an interesting handheld device. It was sort of reddish brown, with a small screen, and even cooler, it spoke. Though I wasn’t really concentrating, I caught some vague words from its monotonous voice: “pokemon”, “levels”, and “it is a”. And I was actually deciding to tell Butch this, but then rethought as I remembered how this level-calculating would train his brain. Finally, I filled him in when I saw another young trainer with the device.
“Hey Butch,” I said. “See the kid with the yellow shirt?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“See that red thing he’s got?”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“I think it’s something that counts levels,” I finished.
Butch’s eyes opened wide. “Seriously?” he asked. “Why didn’t that Birch dude give us one?”
I squinted. “Probably because we were wearing THIS,” I said, holding out our Rocket uniforms which we changed out of after arriving at Oldale and have lots of kids stare at us in fear.
“Ohhhhhh,” said Butch in slow realization. “Well, how do I get one?”
Suddenly I spun around, seeing someone familiar from the corner of my eye. Yep, couldn’t be mistaken – those brown pigtails and the miniskirt with shorts – it was the girl we’d seen at the Lab, wasn’t it? I grinned when I saw what she was holding – a reddish-brown device.
“Her,” I said, a tad bit too loud, but fortunately May didn’t turn around.
Butch smiled. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking about. But how?”
I elbowed Shupster. “It,” I said.
“Aw yeah,” said Shupster. “She thinks I’ve got the charisma for the job.”
“No,” I snapped.
“Oh si,” said Shupster gladly. “I’m not too much of a criminal though. Teach me how to do it?”
And after we filled it in and Shupster looked fully ready, we set it floating to May. Heh, I thought, a talking pokemon must really pique a ten-year-old’s interest.
“’Sup, May?” piped Shupster cheerfully as it approached May.
May turned around and gasped. “So you CAN talk!” she exclaimed.
“Yep, sure as a pancake,” grinned Shupster.
May put her hands on her hips and looked cross. “Cheek! Don’t copy Brendan!” she said, but it was obvious she was kidding.
“Come on. Don’t be mean,” said Shupster, winking.
“Okay,” said May. She blinked excitedly. “Oh my god! I should show Brendan this! Just a minute!” She began to run off.
“Wait!” shouted Shupster, struggling not to laugh or blow its cover. “Do you want me to look after your stuff?”
May smiled, showing her gapped teeth. “Aw, you’re so cute! Good idea.” She threw down her bag and pokeballs, and then with the load off, ran into the Pokemon Center.
Shupster tsked again. “Well, that didn’t take too much ‘criminalism’,” it said, as it took a last cautious look at the Pokemon Center – and then up floated the bag and all of its contents, right to us.
Soon after, we’ve walked 20 meters from the Pokemon Center, with no one behind us. The dumb girl didn’t think of looking too far from her beloved Brendan, I suppose.
“Dude, you think we should take all of this?” asked Butch apprehensively. “The cops could come after us. And the girl, I mean, she’s only ten, this bag’s filled with all her stuff, medicine, lunches, and…” He broke into a smile. “Her clothes for the week.”
“We’re supposed,” I said indignantly, “to be CRIMINALS. What criminal’s afraid of retarded cops and thinks about what would happen if a ten-year-old lost her clothes? A WUSSY.”
“Took you long enough to find out.”
“Shut up, just take all of it. And don’t forget the red thing.” I grabbed the thing, with the word PokeDex labeled on the cover. “So it’s called a PokeDex,” I mused. “Sounds like a little kid’s toy.”
“Aw no, please, pleaaase stop implying that I’m too old for this,” pleaded Butch.
I grinned – it was always fun to bully my partner, whether on missions or on the road – he’s just so pathetic. I pointed the Dex at Ralts’s pokeball, and it instantly said:
“Ralts. Currently level 6. Timid nature. It senses the emotions of people using the horns on its head. Attacks, Growl, Confusion. This Pokemon rarely appears before people. But when it does, it draws closer if it senses that the person has a positive disposition.”
“Hmm,” said Shupster thoughtfully, “you seem to have a positive disposition, whatever that means. Maybe you should try and show it, instead of whining all the time.”
Butch ignored the comment. “Wowee, this is good,” he said. “I won’t have to tire out my brain and count levels.”
“Maybe you need some of that brain exercise,” said a high, derisive voice that definitely did not sound like mine.
“Hey, those people know you,” said Shupster, motioning with its head.
Those? That didn’t sound too good. Butch and I had only known so much people in our lives. And it was plural, ‘those’ and ‘us’. How much of a coincidence? I hoped that it wasn’t…
“Hey Butch, you hear me?” said another voice, obviously female. “Or did Boss yelling that you were fired make you deaf?”
God, no. Not now, dude. Haven’t you people annoyed us enough? Or do you want some more?
“Not that,” I shouted, looking up at the couple facing us. “It’s your sick voices, JJ!”