AMT-I_D4.3

1. The Encounter



Archie was bitten by a tiny, redheaded mad dog.

Dressed in only a new pair of shorts, the boy ruffled through the wardrobe in the wall. He had to find something to cover up the evidence as smoothly as possible - his blue bandanna wouldn’t do. Once or twice, he peered at the aching bite mark and winced. That dwarf kid may look weak, but he had to be a canine pokémon that came from Hell, or some monster from Archie’s adventure books, bearing a human disguise. Archie was certain that somewhere in the kid's red, tousled hair, there had to be a pair of flappy ears. Maybe three pairs of flappy ears. Maybe even a fluffy tail hidden in his shorts.

He finally managed to discover a long-sleeved shirt in the countless layers of cloth and slipped it on. The additional material wrapping his arms was chilly and pleased Archie for a short while, but then was only restraining. The sleeves pulled on his arms. This extra layer did not shield them from heat but rather enveloped it, and Archie disliked how it felt. He hadn’t started to sweat, not yet, but there was no way he’s going to be outside again today. Not in this outfit.

Dejected, Archie turned on the air conditioner, slumped in the center of his bed with a muffled thud - Carvanha the fish pokémon in his arms - and pretended he was floating on water. The ceiling was the bright, brilliant sky; clouds floated past him. Whenever he wanted to drift somewhere else, he would kick the bedsheets. Which, in reality, was done by wriggling back and forth on the bed, but Archie would pretend that the process was smooth. He liked to swim. He liked anything that was related to water, whether it was nature or pokémon. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong with that, right?

Shelly never minded it. The other boys that played with him never minded it. Pa and Ma never minded it either. They all had fun together, splashing water at each other, competing for swimming skills, messing around with water pokémon, adventuring on ocean routes. The ocean was where he met Carvanha.

But that little messy redhead - with his thick, black-framed glasses, his proper white shirt that had these two black straps stretched across it and hung at the waist of his shorts, his red, knee-high socks that stuck onto his skinny legs, his sparkling leather shoes (how long does it even take him to wear these?), and most of all that smug, faintly freckled face - he had minded it more than anyone else, and Archie hated it.

The boy started to kick his legs on the mattress. It thundered back like a frenzy of drum beats, and Archie imagined himself splashing in the blue; the water burst with blasting bellows over and over again until his legs became sore and tired. Carvanha let out a croak of complaint; it probably wasn't expecting the sudden shakiness. Archie petted its head to calm it down - the mattress was a solid object, after all. It was different from the water itself, which always gently accepted you as you submerged into it, flowing and shifting along as you maneuvered within.

The water was simply great even if that redhead never understood its greatness.

If only he left it that way. But no, he had to say something nasty, had to cross his arms and stand with head up high, chest out in such good posture, as if he was the brightest kid amongst them all. As if everyone else, who roamed freely in the great wild, barefoot and topless (although Shelly, being the only girl, wore a t-shirt at all times; perhaps girls were better at withstanding hot temperatures than boys do), were idiots.

This was when Archie and the other children were playing at the pond in the woods a couple hours earlier. They were in a game of Muddy Dodgeball, where the only rule was to simply “get the opposing team out by scooping and hurling mud at them”. Often, the children added in extra rules for the sake of fun, as was the case with today’s game. Captains were anointed to save their teammates by catching mud attacks in their hands while leading their team. It happened to be Archie’s turn to be captain - he was more like a whirlwind than anything else, diving underwater and assaulting the strong kids of the other team from behind, mud already in his hands when he leaped to the surface - and his team was with him. Shelly doused water towards the other side at the opposing team's eyes to stop their attacks, while the other members of the team threw mud one after another as Archie started to catch and dodge attacks directed by the other side.

Soon it was obvious which team was the winner; the remaining five children from the other team chattered to themselves from afar and considered surrendering. Captain Archie beamed at the close victory his team was going to accomplish when a voice caught their attention from the shore:

“Don’t you know that ponds have more than trillions of germs?”

Drip. Something had dropped into the water on another side of the pond. Nobody cared to see what it was. The children’s eyes looked towards the direction of the voice. There, on solid ground, stood a kid - the kid - with red hair, nice clothes, and glasses, not half-naked, not barefoot, very different from them all. The children stared at this abrupt newcomer, who looked so alien in their perspectives. Never had Archie (and most likely the rest of them) seen a kid who looked like this. In the fairy tale books where fine-dressed little boys were depicted in pictures, yes, but not in real life. In real life, kids wore t-shirts and sneakers and short socks or no socks at all, not clean white shirts with black strap things and leather shoes and long socks.

And the words he had said - Archie stayed quiet and thought to himself. Having germs meant becoming sick. Becoming sick meant that everywhere in the body hurt, which meant staying at home and not being able to go outside for many days to not hurt anymore. It used to also mean not going to kindergarten - after this summer it’d be elementary school - which sounded fun at first. In reality, kindergarten was much better than being stuck on a bed: being sick left Archie with no energy to watch television, no energy to play inside, not even any energy to listen to Ma’s story-reading. The only nice thing about it was having the doctor bring in a Chansey and being able to eat its eggs. Chansey eggs were very yummy. Still, it wasn’t worth enduring all that uncomfortableness and loneliness.

Yet this remark about the pond and its germs, supposedly uttered by that red-haired boy to reveal its harm, did not make Archie panic. Despite all that suffering, he was a healthy child who had played in many bodies of water. Sickness had rarely befallen upon him. And it was universally agreed between the children that Hoenn water was immaculate; if it was not, a long and hot bath after rough play would wash away the filth. Their experiences proved this pond harmless.

Simply said, there would be no reason to say such a thing about the pond. It was the first time that Archie had heard this, and he did not know how to respond to it. Although, he didn’t mind hearing more about water, good or bad. During that silent moment he had actually considered this red-haired boy an interesting kid; he wanted to hear more about what he could say.

At least, that was what he had wanted before the squirt of mud hit.

“Captain's down!"

A cry followed by roaring cheers - the brave warrior from the opposing team retreated away from Archie. His defeated teammates burst in joy, punching the air, jumping, hollering, chanting revenge from behind. Seeing that the fierce reviver was out of the game, the other four kids attacked back without any hesitation, knocking down one or two of Archie’s teammates already after their first throw. An enraged Shelly took control as a second leader and yelled out new commands while she and the others swam towards the frontline.

Then it dawned on Archie that the game never paused when the red-haired boy appeared before them, but it was too late to realize that. As more and more of his teammates fell to the furious comeback of their enemies, it became clear that their victorious stance was lost. Even if they did not lose the game, Captain Archie would have failed in leading them to succession anyway.

As this displeasing fact came back into his mind, Archie pouted to the ceiling. Carvanha grunted in sympathy.

Now, the intruder, the properly-dressed boy who stood and spoke on solid ground, this whole situation was part of his fault. Archie had decided to watch and frown at him with scorn during the mess to show how annoyed he was. The boy didn’t seem to notice; he was cringing at the sight of Muddy Dodgeball like he had seen a trash mountain or barf on the floor, something disgusting of that sort. He backed up one or two steps and regained his posture, arms crossed, head high, a kid standing tall and quite condescending, the way he looked down towards the playful children. Eyebrows arched. A shake of the head. A sigh.

“Nope, the Great Maxie will not play in dirty water,” the kid declared to the pond. He strolled into the forest from which all the children had come from.

Away from Archie, the other kids heard the statement and stared at the waning silhouette. Archie could not understand what this whole scene was about, but he felt rage well up in his chest, a force that made him want to chase after the kid. It was like some snotty and stupid noble or king disparaging the normal people in the stories - now who on earth did this kid thought he was, to the point that he can just stride in and stride out while dropping comments that ruined Archie’s entire Muddy Dodgeball experience? And nonetheless rejecting the pond without even dipping into it.

Now that kid, he didn’t have to like Archie and the others. The pond had germs, that Archie didn’t mind. Not even after how that distracted Archie; it was probably the truth anyway. But that random comment saying that the water was dirty - an equivalence to saying the water was bad - had annoyed him, because the water is not bad. That was unreasonable and wrong and Archie was not going to allow anyone to get away with it.

With a deep breath taken, he plunged into the water and crawled to the shore. A feral shark lunging out, he darted into the forest - flurried steps pattering on the ground - and halted the boy:

“Hey you! Red kid with the glasses!”

Red Kid with the Glasses was not expecting this sudden outcry. He spun around, mouth open and wide-eyed, his glasses almost falling off his face. “What?” he glared at Archie while adjusting his eyewear back in place.

“I grew up in this pond so yer not gonna say bad stuff ‘bout it! Yer not going unless you say sorry!”

“People can’t grow up in a pond. You’re not a fish!” Red Kid frowned and pushed his glasses again with his index finger. “Plus, my name is not ‘Red Kid with the Glasses;’ it’s Maxie! The Great Maxie!”

“People can grow up in a pond!” Archie said. He took a leap and advanced towards the kid, attempting an angry stare. Now this kid is being a complete idiot - he saw them playing earlier and he’s denying it. Or is he blind even in these glasses?

Yet Red Kid with the Glasses (Maxie, whatever) seemed unconvinced. He crossed his arms again like the snob he is.

“You can’t live in the water forever,” he said, pointing out a finger from his arm, “look, you’re on the ground right now."

Archie wanted to retaliate but made no sound. The kid had a point. Archie was, actually, standing on solid ground. Pond water dripped into the dirt, darkening a few spots. Red Kid with the Glasses smirked.

“So I was right. I don’t need to apologize, and you’re just being stupid like the rest of them,” he left Archie with these words and strolled away once more.

Archie felt his face becoming red. His defense for the pond that defined their fun times, his experiences in the pond and the water itself, his joy, his buddies, all viewed as “stupid” by this red-haired, prideful child - it angered him even more. If Red Kid gets away like this, Archie wouldn't be able to face his friends who were also made fun of by the kid. The pond would remain undefended. He'd have failed again like he did in that round of Muddy Dodgeball.

Archie decided that wasn’t going to happen. He would do everything he can to make the kid realize his wrongdoings.

So he caught up with Red Kid, who had rambled away for some distance, and reached for the kid's shoulders to stop him. It was at a distance this closed up did Archie finally notice how short Red Kid was; the top of his messy head barely touched Archie’s forehead. And he was scrawny, too. If a fight was going to occur at some point, at least Archie was physically stronger. Pinning him down shouldn’t take much effort.

The red-haired kid darted away from Archie and took a step back.

“What?!”

“Er…um…” Archie struggled for words. “It’s a bad thing to say bad stuff to the pond! So ya gotta say sorry!"

“It’s not even alive!” said the kid, “and I’m not going to listen to you!”

“Are ya gonna say sorry or not?!”

“Never!”

“Then yer not leaving!” Archie grabbed Red Kid’s wrists with a firm grip.

He had expected this to turn into a fight, but the kid only writhed against Archie and shook his trapped arm. He gritted his teeth and tried once more, this time using his other hand to push against Archie’s; it was like a soft message on the palm. He also kicked Archie in the shin a couple times, swinging his leg with force and tickling Archie after multiple tries.

This went way better than what Archie initially expected.

“Get your wet hands off my arm!” yelled Red Kid, now panicking instead of being cocky.

“If ya do as I say.” Archie stood still and continued to hold the kid’s wrist with ease, grinning as he watched him struggle. All he had to do was to wait for the kid to tire out, and eventually, he'd give in. He’d know that he was wrong and then everything would be nice again. This is all done for the dignity of the mighty water and those under its benevolence - Archie firmly believed so.

Then the kid clenched Archie's arm, his weak little fingers rubbing on Archie's skin. The next thing Archie knew, a flash of crimson dashed downwards and something squeezed his flesh hard as if a red-hot plier had gripped on it. This ring of pain made Archie scream and jump back as he covered the hurting spot with his hand. The moment he escaped it, the pain subsided and replaced itself with numbness. Taking his hand away, a circle of dented, dashed line became visible on his arm, its center brimming with spots of red and glowing traces of water - no, not water, but rather saliva. Eww.

Red Kid with the Glasses had bitten him. With dog teeth and the strength of Groudon. That was not something normal kids do to free themselves from other people - and then he remembered that he was supposed to hold the kid in place. Yet when Archie looked up, the rascal had already disappeared like a wisp of smoke.

As Archie went over the entire memory on his bed, he let out a disgruntled yell, kicking and hitting around on the mattress, scaring Carvanha again as it jumped out of Archie’s embrace. Thankfully, this wasn’t the water after all - he might’ve drowned, behaving this wildly. But screw that, screw it all, he hated himself for letting that redhead get away after that entire mess. Captain Archie had failed after all.

He never returned to the pond. His team must have lost at that point. It didn’t seem to be a good time to return, not after Archie dumped them there without doing anything useful, and (although he wasn’t expecting it) made Shelly take the rest of the responsibility as a second Captain. So he took the path back home instead. Ma and Pa, luckily, wasn’t home, so he showered like any good kid would do after a day of rough play, and changed into the long-sleeved shirt. If his parents asked about it later, Archie would make up something about the fear of catching a cold. They’d believe that. It’d be troublesome and humiliating to explain the real story to them.

Tired, Archie collapsed into his bed a little further, still pouting at the ceiling. Carvanha came closer after making sure the boy was not going to rampage again and soon fell asleep near him.

He tried to imagine the ocean all around him again. He thought about whether it’d be angry at him or Red Kid with the Glasses, who said the bad things in the first place. The water was capable of becoming angry. He’s seen the waves before - they were massive and looked like they eat many people up in a gulp. But Archie had seen surfers riding on it, angling their boards along the steep water, flipping, spinning in the air then landing back perfectly; scientists harness it, in those facilities with so many machines that he didn’t know the names of; and sailors navigating in it, as they looked free and fearless in the pictures of his adventure books.

They didn’t care if it was dirty or not. Even if it was bad, people had already figured out how to use it for good. Archie wanted to be one of those people. He thought of Red Kid and how, despite the irritation he caused, he knew that fact about the water that Archie didn’t. If he hadn’t been so arrogant, they could have been able to talk a lot.

Archie’s fingers curved into a fist. He looked to the ceiling, determined. If he ever saw that redhead another time, he would have to make him apologize for what he had said. But before that, he would have to make that kid see how cool the water is. How the entire world had begun from the water, how growing up with the water made him and the others a jolly kid, and how the water was useful and beautiful and amazing, dirty or not.

Archie let that thought grow in his mind. He closed his eyes, and, to the memory of gurgling currents and breezing winds, fell asleep into a dream as deep as the ocean itself. In there were no annoying redheads, only a boundless view of the deep blue and its creatures, surrounding and enveloping him.

It was a very nice dream.