She ended up sandwiched between the box with all their photo albums and the one with the kitchenware, the cardboard almost soft and fuzzy to the touch, the beige unseen - replaced with a murky sort of purple that begged for monsters to slip in and camouflage themselves with, their sharp teeth hidden behind shutly tight lips because gods knew if they revealed themselves now they could only pray to be mistaken - perhaps for stray cutlery in a box left open, or a mirror not quite wrapped up all the way - all shining under the little slip of light from the top of the truck door. She'd heard monsters like that were more common in Hoenn, with eyes for gems or bandaged up like mummies. Hell, for the love of the Allfather, she'd even heard about the spiteful little dolls that would only remember when they themselves were forgotten. (Time to side-eye Daisy the Azurill doll hiding away in the corner.)

Monsters like that existed in Johto too, of course (of course) but only in faded and wrinkled text in leather bound text, in brittle scrolls and swaying and burnt towers. Occasionally on the shoulder of her father's friend too; a gym leader, another gym leader because sometimes it really felt that all she knew were gym leaders which would be [i]true[/i], and whenever they met he'd laugh like he saw something funny and ruffle her hair. Morty was okay, she decided a long long time ago, even if he dealt with monsters. Not that they were too scary now that she was older though, of course not, but it was still an ever-present thought just hovering in the back of her head like a Dustox to a flame. This close to flying forward and burning herself, but too jittery to make it matter.

Being locked up in a truck with an almost dead phone and a certainly dead DS made her ramble more than usual. A true tragedy deserving an apology of the highest degree.

She drummed her fingers on her knees in rhythm with the periodical bumps of the truck, a roll-roll-roll-bump that made her wonder if pebbles really were spaced just that evenly down on the road to create the cadence. It was even in three-fourth time, a swing or a waltz or something as bouncy as a Buneary or a Bunnelby - a hop skip and jive that drew forth the image of a bunch of kids from an age long past at a sockhop in poodleskirts and leather jackets. Her dancing companion would have his hair slicked back with grease and another roll-roll-hop because here we go again, you’re the one that I want -

The dance eventually rolled to a slow rumble, slower and slower until it stopped completely.

Sunshine kissed her in greeting when the truck door rolled up.

[center]---[/center]

Wally and Brendan got along plenty well without her. She appreciated that they let her tag along, though.

They were like day and night - and if she wanted to poetic she’d say even literally - Brendan as tan like the fishermen of Olivine, a boy who’d been around the block at least a few times and lingered to let the sun soak in each go around, with eyes that had storms brewing inside. Every angle sharp, from his shoulders to his collarbone to the angle of his jaws. Sharp in the way he held himself too, lurched forward a fraction of an inch when he shot them a lopsided grin. Aggressive. Boyish. Challenging. He even dressed aggressively - pitch black splashed with bits of lime and citrus orange from decals on his shirt or his bag. Loud, very very loud. Fitting for the little slip of Hoenn she’d seen so far. It didn’t shock her at all that he was the one to approach Wally out on Route 102 first, insisted on helping him catch a Pokémon.

Wally, on the other hand, reminded her of a ghost. Pale as a sheet, as the moon in winter. Faint - from head to toe, from gainsboro eyes to the powdery blue cardigan wrapped around him and just slightly too big, the beige of his bag and the dull mint of his pants. Soft-looking like an overcast day, hair as green as leaves on a pleasant summer day and his smile gentle, but he hunched [i]just[/i] a tiny little bit, this close to a cower or a cringe and those smiles sometimes came out as more of a grimace. Not as intense as Brendan, not as [i]blinding[/i], but just as pleasant at the end of the day.

Of course, said smiles ended up being more sincere than not when they were directed at Brendan. She hoped it was more because of admiration than Wally being afraid of her or something of the sort.

She could be the balancing member of the little trio - not one extreme or the other. Lukewarm, even. It’d work out beautifully regardless.

They stopped in Rustboro for lunch. The morning passed by in no time at all, filled with sneaking through tall grass that wisped against her thighs as they chased after a little fairy that barely reached the middle of her shin, careful to avoid the wildflowers sprinkled throughout, the Wurmple that slunk by and tickled her ankles in passing. The Ralts ended up fleeing into Wally’s open arms when Brendan threw his all into chasing after it - a huge gamble of a leap that left him with grass stains on his hat and a giant smile because the other boy just [i]lit up[/i] when the Ralts was captured.

They completely blocked her out of that little scene for at least a minute. Probably (hopefully) not intentional, but it was almost fascinating, in a way.

Their breakfast was berries she’d never had truly fresh before, found on the route past Petalburg and before the forest, plucked right off the branches - the oran berries tangy and sweet all at once, the pecha perfectly ripe and Brendan warned her if she clutched it too tightly when she tugged it’d bruise. They filled themselves up greedily, juice dripping off all their chins and turning their fingers sticky and a peculiar shade of blue that wouldn’t come off even when they washed their hands in the sea.

They stopped in Rustboro for lunch, for sandwiches and chips and lemonade that cooled her down in the ever-present humidity. The restaurant managed to make it just like home - honey roasted Farfetch’d with three cheeses and grilled onions, drizzled with Sevii Island dressing and sprinkled with pepper, stacked between supposedly fresh sourdough slices and left in the oven until the cheese melted. If she shut her eyes, she’d might have even fooled herself into thinking she was back in Goldenrod.

Her father ultimately thought the same thing, flashing her the gentle smile he always seemed to have when he saw her. “That good, huh?”

She couldn’t deny it, nodded instead and turned to her two friends, asked them how theirs were.

“Delicious, thanks!” Brendan beamed, crumbs on the corner of his mouth and thankfully not wedged in his teeth. “I’ve never actually been here before, I can’t believe I missed it!”

Wally smiled bashfully, his cheeks rosy and his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s delicious sir, thank you. And - and thank you for paying too. Are you sure it’s okay?”

The gym leader waved them off with a fatherly grin and a “don’t worry about it, it’s an important day.”

Her Mudkip shifted on her lap then - a tiny little baby found splashing around in the pond on the east end of Route 102, Brendan insisting it was fine to catch seriously just offer it the ball and find out - yawned a squeaky yawn and stretched first its stubby little forelegs and then its hind, smiled a goofy smile up at her. It nuzzled into her hand after she cleaned it off with a napkin - you could never be too careful with babies after all - did a weird little purr as she moved from rubbing the area around the dorsal fin down to the gills.

Past the forest and before Rustboro, where Norman could be found waiting for them at the gates, the trio stumbled across a flower shop. Tiny - tinier than