Chloe hated losing.
Most people did.
She just thought she handled it better than Ethan Crowe, who looked personally offended any time somebody beat him.
Chloe preferred taking notes.
She stood near the edge of Grayhaven Secondary Academy’s training field Monday afternoon, tablet in hand.
Budew stood twelve meters away.
Three circular targets had been placed against the padded wall.
“Middle.”
“Bud!”
A thin stream of energy struck the center target.
Not perfectly centered, but close.
Chloe marked the result.
“Again.
Left.”
Budew turned.
Another Absorb.
Hit.
“Right.”
Hit.
Chloe smiled.
“Good.”
Budew bounced happily.
“Again.”
Budew stopped bouncing.
Chloe raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that.”
“Budew.”
“Five more.”
Budew sat down.
Chloe stared.
Budew stared back.
“You know that doesn’t work.”
“Bud.”
“Four?”
Budew immediately stood.
Chloe narrowed her eyes.
“You understand numbers far too well.”
“Bud!”
“Fine.
Four.”
Someone laughed behind her.
Chloe turned.
A Grade 8 girl was watching, short black hair, a Poké Ball clipped to her belt.
Chloe recognized her immediately — Maya Chen, one of the twelve primary Junior Team members, and, more importantly, one of the returning ones.
Maya had already competed for Grayhaven last year.
“You negotiated with your Pokémon,” Maya said.
“She started it.”
Budew chirped.
Maya walked closer.
“Accuracy training?”
“Yeah.”
“Reyes’s baseline test?”
Chloe nodded.
Maya looked at the targets.
“You’re good.”
Chloe smiled slightly.
“Budew is.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Maya raised an eyebrow.
Chloe pointed toward Budew.
“She’s the one hitting them.”
“And who’s telling her where?”
“Me.”
“Exactly.”
Chloe considered that.
“Still mostly her.”
Maya smiled.
“You’re new.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.”
That was annoying.
Maya didn’t stay — she had her own training to do, which surprised Chloe.
She’d somehow imagined returning team members didn’t need to practice as much anymore.
Then Maya released her Pokémon inside the authorized field.
A Furret appeared.
Chloe automatically looked.
Long body, healthy coat, much larger than the Sentret Ethan had battled during tryouts.
Maya began running movement drills.
No dramatic attacks, no shouting.
She pointed, and Furret moved: changed direction, stopped, accelerated, dropped, rolled, changed direction again.
Chloe watched for almost a minute.
Then looked at Budew.
“Okay.”
Budew followed her gaze.
“That’s irritating.”
“Bud?”
“They’re good.”
Budew chirped.
Chloe picked up her tablet.
“We’re doing the last four.”
Budew’s enthusiasm vanished.
The Mercers weren’t poor, whatever that meant to a twelve-year-old — her mother reminded her of it whenever Chloe complained about something expensive.
They had a house.
Food.
Two cars.
Her parents had jobs.
Nobody worried about whether the electricity would stay on.
But there was a difference between comfortable and Whitmore.
Lucas Whitmore had grown up with a private Pokémon training field.
Chloe had grown up with a backyard.
Lucas had professional coaching.
Chloe had videos.
Books.
Public training facilities.
And her mother asking why a twelve-year-old needed another set of training cones when the first set was still perfectly functional.
Ethan was different again.
Chloe didn’t know exactly how much money his family had.
His grandfather owned Bennett Orchards, which sounded impressive until Ethan complained about his grandfather refusing to replace an old television.
More importantly, Ethan had only recently gotten Houndour.
That still bothered her.
Not because she disliked him.
Mostly.
But because he’d beaten her.
She’d been with Budew longer, knew more, had trained harder.
And he’d still won their first battle.
Chloe spent a few days chewing on what that meant.
In the end there was only one useful conclusion: get better.
“You’re home late.”
Chloe closed the front door.
“Training.”
Her mother looked out from the kitchen.
“Again?”
“We made the team.”
“I remember.”
“You said congratulations.”
“I also remember.”
Chloe removed her shoes.
Budew remained inside her Poké Ball — they weren’t in a certified training area, and unlike some Companion-certified household Pokémon, Budew wasn’t registered for unrestricted public presence.
Home was more flexible than the street, but Chloe’s parents had rules.
Pokémon out only when someone was supervising.
Especially in the house.
Her younger brother had once attempted to feed Budew chocolate.
Nobody trusted him anymore.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Working late.”
“Ben?”
“Upstairs.”
“Good.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes.
“Why good?”
“No reason.”
“Chloe.”
“I want to let Budew out.”
Her mother sighed.
“Backyard.”
“Okay.”
“And no attacking the fence.”
“That happened once.”
“The scorch mark from Growlithe next door is still there.
I don’t want matching Pokémon damage.”
“Budew doesn’t breathe fire.”
“Your father said that right before she sprayed dirt all over the patio.”
“That was different.”
Her mother pointed toward the backyard.
“Go.”
Chloe smiled.
“Love you.”
“Manipulation.”
“Still love you.”
Budew appeared in the backyard.
“Bud!”
She immediately ran toward a flower bed.
Chloe followed.
“No.”
Budew stopped.
“Mom will blame me.”
“Bud.”
“I know they’re plants.”
Budew looked deeply offended.
Chloe sat on the grass.
The backyard wasn’t big — there was enough room for movement drills, barely.
Attacks were another matter.
That was why Chloe usually stayed at school.
Budew climbed into her lap.
Chloe looked down.
“You’re tired?”
“Bud.”
“Me too.”
Budew settled.
Chloe leaned back on her hands.
She’d wanted a Pokémon since she was little, and not because her parents were Trainers — they weren’t.
Her father had a Companion-certified Herdier that mostly slept near his desk at work, but he’d never seriously battled.
Her mother didn’t own one.
Chloe had watched professional battles on television like every other kid, but that wasn’t what had made her want to train.
It had been a park battle.
She’d been nine.
Two teenagers, nothing important, no stadium, no cameras.
One had used a Roselia.
The other had used a Machop.
Machop was stronger, obviously stronger, and Chloe remembered thinking the battle was already over.
Then Roselia started moving — Stun Spore, positioning, distance, Leech Seed.
Machop couldn’t get close.
Every time it did, Roselia moved.
The stronger Pokémon lost.
Chloe had been fascinated.
Not because Roselia had some enormous attack, but because the Trainer had solved the fight.
Three months later, Chloe had started asking for a Budew.
It took almost a year before her parents agreed.
She rubbed Budew’s head.
“That’s what we’re supposed to do.”
“Bud?”
“Be annoying.”
Budew looked up.
Chloe smiled.
“Not strong.” Budew tilted her head.
“Well, strong too.”
“But we’re never going to fight like Growlithe.”
Lucas’s Pokémon was stronger, faster, more experienced.
Houndour had fire.
Other Pokémon would have claws, teeth, wings.
Budew was tiny, and that wasn’t going to change just because Chloe wanted it to.
So they needed to make opponents fight their battle: accuracy, control, positioning, status, distance.
Chloe smiled.
“Extremely annoying.”
“Bud!”
Tuesday’s Trainer Foundations class was about status conditions.
Chloe loved it.
Marcus Hale did not.
“So poison just keeps hurting?”
Instructor Reyes looked at him.
“Generally.”
“And paralysis makes you slower?”
“Among other effects.”
“And sleep makes you sleep?”
Reyes stared.
Marcus smiled.
“Just confirming.”
Ethan laughed beside him.
Chloe rolled her eyes.
Reyes continued.
“Status conditions are especially important because Pokémon battles aren’t purely contests of physical strength.”
Chloe sat straighter.
Finally, someone said it out loud.
“A weaker Pokémon can defeat a stronger opponent by controlling the pace of battle.”
Ethan raised his hand.
“What if you just hit them before they do that?”
Chloe looked at him.
Naturally.
Reyes nodded.
“That’s also a strategy.”
Ethan smiled.
“Good.”
“But if your opponent knows you’re going to rush?”
His smile weakened.
Reyes looked toward Chloe.
“Mercer.”
“Yes?”
“Your Budew against Crowe’s Houndour.
Hypothetically.”
Ethan immediately turned toward her.
Chloe ignored him.
“What’s your biggest problem?”
“Fire.”
“Too broad.”
Chloe thought.
“Houndour can attack from range with Ember, so Budew can’t just keep distance safely.”
“Good.
Crowe?”
Ethan thought.
“Budew could use status moves.”
“Which ones?”
Ethan hesitated.
Chloe noticed — he didn’t know.
Interesting.
Reyes looked back at Chloe.
“Your advantage?”
“Control.”
Ethan frowned.
“How is that an advantage?”
Chloe smiled.
“Because Budew listens better than Houndour.”
“Not anymore.”
“She still does.”
“Houndour stopped perfectly during tryouts.”
“Congratulations.”
Marcus whispered: “Here we go.”
Reyes raised her voice.
“Enough.”
Both stopped.
“Neither of you has the correct answer.”
Chloe frowned.
Ethan looked equally confused.
Reyes pointed toward Chloe.
“Mercer’s advantage is that she understands what kind of battle benefits Budew.”
Then Ethan.
“Crowe’s advantage is that Houndour can force her to abandon that plan.”
Chloe listened.
“A battle isn’t won because you have a strategy.”
Reyes looked across the class.
“It’s won by executing one while preventing your opponent from doing the same.”
Chloe wrote that down.
Ethan noticed.
“You’re actually taking notes?”
“Yes.”
“Nerd.”
“You lost to Lucas.”
“So?”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t fight him.”
“Obviously.”
Marcus covered his face.
At lunch, Chloe sat with two girls from her regular classes.
Neither was on the Junior Team, and neither particularly cared about competitive battling.
That was refreshing.
For twenty minutes, nobody talked about Grades, moves, training or Pokémon Potential — instead they talked about a teacher’s terrible haircut, then homework, then whether one of the Grade 8 boys was actually dating someone from another school.
Normal things.
Chloe liked normal things.
She didn’t want every part of her life to become Pokémon battles.
Her friend Ava stole one of her fries.
Chloe slapped her hand.
“Get your own.”
“I did.”
“Then eat yours.”
“Yours taste better.”
“They’re identical.”
“Prove it.”
Chloe stared.
Ava stole another.
“You’re a terrible person.”
“Congratulations on the team, by the way.”
“That was three days ago.”
“I forgot.”
“Clearly.”
“Do you get a uniform?”
Chloe paused.
“I don’t know.”
“If you do, send me a picture.”
“Why?”
“So I can judge it.”
Chloe laughed.
This was good — no Ethan, no Lucas, no Instructor Reyes.
Just lunch.
After school, however, the team mattered again.
Reyes had posted their first full group training schedule.
Wednesday — 4:00 PM
All Primary and Reserve Junior Team Members
Below it:
Returning members report at 3:30.
Chloe read that twice.
Returning members.
So there were students among the twelve who had already competed for Grayhaven.
Maya was one.
Probably several Grade 8s.
Chloe hadn’t thought much about that during tryouts — she’d been too focused on making the roster.
Someone stopped beside her.
Ethan.
He read the notice.
“Four?”
“That’s what it says.”
“I have to tell Grandpa.”
“Okay.”
Ethan kept reading.
“Returning members?”
Chloe looked at him.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Maya Chen competed last year.”
“Who’s Maya Chen?”
Chloe stared.
“She’s on our team.”
“There are twelve people.”
“You should know their names.”
“We’ve been on the team for four days.”
Lucas approached from behind.
“Maya’s good.”
Ethan turned.
“You fought her?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“My sister knows her.”
Chloe looked at Lucas.
Of course.
Lucas apparently knew everyone through somebody.
“What Pokémon?” Ethan asked.
“Furret.”
Ethan’s expression shifted.
Chloe knew that look now — he was imagining fighting it.
“Don’t.”
Ethan looked at her.
“What?”
“You want to battle her.”
“So?”
“We haven’t even had one team practice.”
“That’s the point.”
Chloe stared.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Lucas laughed.
Ethan ignored him.
“She’s Grade Eight?”
“Yes.”
“Returning member?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want to see how strong she is.”
Lucas shrugged.
“Furret is Normal Grade.”
Ethan’s enthusiasm dipped.
Not by much.
“Still.”
Chloe shook her head.
Sometimes Ethan was exhausting.
Wednesday afternoon, Chloe arrived at 3:52.
Early, not too early.
Lucas was already there — not surprising.
Ethan arrived three minutes later, also early, Marcus trailing behind him despite not being on the team.
Reyes stopped him at the entrance.
“Hale.”
“I’m observing.”
“No.”
“Team support?”
“No.”
“Media?”
“Definitely no.”
Marcus looked at Ethan.
“Tell my story.”
“Go home.”
“Betrayal.”
Marcus left.
Chloe laughed.
Then she noticed the returning members.
Four Grade 8 students stood together near Field One — Maya Chen among them, Furret sitting beside her.
Another boy had a Wartortle.
A girl had a Flaaffy.
The fourth Pokémon remained inside its ball.
Chloe’s excitement changed.
These weren’t instructors.
They were students, only one year older.
But the way they carried themselves was different.
Comfortable.
They knew the field, knew Reyes, knew one another.
They’d done this before.
Reyes called everyone together — twelve primary members, four reserves, sixteen students total.
The returning Grade 8s stood on one side, new members on the other.
Reyes looked across them.
“Now we actually begin.”
Ethan smiled.
Chloe did too.
“Tryouts determined who entered the program.” Reyes pointed toward the returning students.
“These Trainers already know what comes next.”
Maya smiled slightly.
Reyes turned back toward the rookies.
“Most of you don’t.”
Nobody spoke.
“The Junior Battle Team is not an extension of Trainer Foundations.” Her voice hardened.
“Foundations teaches you how to become safe, competent Trainers.” She pointed toward the battle fields.
“This program teaches you how to compete.”
Chloe felt Budew’s Poké Ball against her belt.
“Individual battles.” Another finger.
“Doubles.” Another.
“Team formats.” Another.
“Match preparation.” Another.
“Opponent analysis.”
Ethan looked increasingly interested.
“Stamina management.
Substitutions.
Battlefield roles.
Tournament rules.”
Reyes lowered her hand.
“And how to lose without falling apart.”
A few students laughed.
Reyes didn’t.
“You will lose.”
The laughter stopped.
“Every person standing here will lose battles.” Her eyes moved across them.
“Some of you will lose starting positions.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“Some of you will spend an entire meet on the bench.”
Nobody liked that.
Chloe understood why Reyes was saying it.
Making the twelve wasn’t the finish.
It wasn’t even really the beginning.
It was permission to begin.
Reyes turned toward the returning members.
“Chen.”
Maya stepped forward.
“Yes, Coach.”
Coach.
Not Instructor.
Chloe noticed that.
“Take the rookies through warm-up procedures.”
“Yes, Coach.”
Reyes looked toward the other returning students.
“Stations afterward.”
They nodded.
Maya faced them.
She smiled.
“Okay.”
Her eyes passed over Chloe, then Lucas, then Ethan.
“Pokémon out.”
Sixteen Poké Balls began opening across the secured field.
Budew appeared in front of Chloe.
“Bud!”
Houndour appeared nearby, Growlithe farther down.
Pokémon Chloe hadn’t seen during tryouts appeared one after another.
The field suddenly felt crowded.
Alive.
Competitive.
Budew looked around, then up at Chloe.
Chloe smiled.
“Yeah.”
She’d wanted this.
Not Ethan’s journey.
Not Lucas’s.
Hers.
“Let’s see how good we actually are.”
“Bud!”
Maya clapped.
“Two laps!
Pokémon beside you.
If your partner leaves your side, restart!”
Ethan stared.
“Restart?”
Maya smiled.
“Did I stutter?”
Lucas started running.
Chloe followed.
Ethan swore quietly and ran after them.
Budew bounced beside Chloe.
Across the field, returning Trainers moved with practiced ease.
The rookies did not.
Within thirty seconds, one Pokémon broke formation.
A boy groaned.
Maya pointed toward the starting line.
“Restart!”
Chloe laughed.
Then Budew saw something interesting near the fence.
Her head turned.
“Don’t you dare.”
Budew looked at Chloe, then forward.
Good.
They kept running.
Tomorrow she might lose.
Next month she might be riding the bench.
Those were problems for another day.
Right now she’d made the team, Budew was keeping pace beside her, and fifteen other kids on this field wanted the exact same thing she did.
Chloe pushed harder.
Budew matched her.