The room was… Tiny. No other word for it. It was a ten-by-ten square enclosed by whitewashed cinderblock walls and fake wooden floors, with a bunk bed pushed against one side and a door leading to a closet-sized bathroom on the other. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, washing out the natural light from the single dirty window, and somewhere in the distance there was the hum of an AC unit trying desperately to keep away the sweltering Hoenn summer. The air stank of bleach and lemon-scented cleaner mixed with old sweaty gym socks. Yep, this was it—a real, official Pokémon Center dorm.
"This is it?" Miriam moaned. Hayley just shrugged and shuffled through the doorway, not letting on that she'd had the same reaction upon seeing it. She'd known Pokémon Center rooms were bare-bones, but this looked more like a prison cell than a bedroom, and the thought of sharing the cramped space with Miriam for the next few weeks didn't brighten her spirits at all.
Huffing and grumbling, Miriam pushed past Hayley and stomped up the ladder to the top bunk, dried mud flaking off her sneakers to the scuffed floor below. She disappeared over the railing with a soft thump and a dramatic groan. Hayley shook her head and made her way to the window, staring down through the dingy glass. They were on the tenth floor, and it seemed like all of Rustboro was visible from here. The skyline cut an imposing figure with its handsome brownstone skyscrapers towering high into the air, their glass and steel ornamentation glittering in the morning light. The sounds of car horns and shouting reached all the way up here as people jostled past each other on the sidewalks and cars inched bumper-to-bumper on the morning commute. In the distance, colorful billboards and storefronts added splashes of color to the sepia landscape, calling customers in to buy food, electronics, sporting goods, or anything else they could possibly want. Rustboro was one of the busiest cities in Hoenn; any random street here saw more happen in a day than all of Petalburg did in a week. For as long as she could remember, Hayley had loved coming here. The sights and sounds thrilled her, and she'd always dreamed of staying here on her own. But today…
Hayley fingered the empty slot on her belt, poorly-suppressed dread rising in her stomach. Barrett was still with the nurses for his checkup—she'd tried not to look too guilty when she handed him over, though the staff was so busy with the tidal wave of new trainers that they probably wouldn't have noticed either way. She didn't know what she was going to do when she got him back. She'd screwed up about as badly as a new trainer could, short of actually letting her Pokémon die. There was no way he'd forgive her, let alone fight for her. Where was she going to go from here?
Her phone buzzed threateningly in her pocket. She'd kept it on since last night, hoping one of Connie's pictures or texts might cheer her up, and now the screen flashed an angry warning: ten percent battery life remaining. She sighed and slipped it back into her pocket, tilting her head against the window. Well. Ten percent.
It was enough to make one more call.
She left the room without a word, letting the door click shut behind her. A few trainers and Pokémon loitered in the hallway; she picked her way around them, down the crowded elevator, through the throngs of trainers jostling and shouting in the lobby, and finally out the glass double doors of the entrance. The Rustboro Pokémon Center was built on a wide grassy campus, a spot of green in the overdeveloped city. It was dotted with benches and picnic tables and even an expansive jungle gym, giving people and Pokémon a place to relax and play between battles and training sessions. Despite the early hour, it was already overrun by novice trainers and their teams. Hayley had to search to find a secluded, shady area on the west side of the building where she could get at least a little bit of privacy. She leaned against the cool brick wall, glanced around, and, satisfied that there was nobody eavesdropping on her, pulled out her phone and dialed the number.
It took just one and a half rings before Connie's face blinked onto the screen. It had only been a few days, but she already looked different from how Hayley remembered her. Her face was tinted red and glossy with sweat, her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, and one strap of her tank top hung crookedly across her sunburned shoulder. Her smile hadn't changed, though—as soon as she locked eyes with Hayley, it stretched so wide and toothy that it looked like her face would split in half. "Hayley! Ohmygosh, I haven't heard from you in days! How are you? Are you in Rustboro yet? Did you get my messages? I've got to tell you about the routine me and Marcie are working on—"
Despite herself, Hayley couldn't help cracking a small grin. It was a relief to hear Connie's voice again—it felt like it'd been months, rather than days, since they'd hugged goodbye on her driveway. "Hey, Connie." Her voice cracked a bit, surprised at being put back to use in regular conversation. "Sorry, I had my phone off to save the battery—I'm still getting through your texts—"
"Okay, well, you're going to see one where I told you to try a Kōsen-style strategy against Roxanne, right? Ignore that. Turns out Magby can't actually learn Hyper Beam. But I gave it some more thought, and I think that more of a "Cinnabar-lite" maneuver could really work! How cool are you with setting things on fire?"
"I… Uh…" Hayley rubbed her forehead with her free hand and gave a tiny laugh. "I'll think about it. I just got into Rustboro this morning…"
"Oh, cool! Did you catch any new Pokémon in Petalburg Woods?"
"No, not really." Her voice trailed off, and she twisted a tangled lock of hair around her finger as she tried to think how she would say what she needed to say. "I kind of wanted to talk—"
"Obviously you'll need a grass- or water-type for maximum effectiveness." Connie rolled right over her, still talking at a million miles a minute. "Did you think about a Shroomish at all? Gavin has a Shroomish. They evolve into Breloom, and Breloom are totally badass." She glanced quickly around her and then broke into another devilish grin, gleeful at getting away with the swear.
"I didn't really get a chance. Some stuff happened—I couldn't go looking for Pokémon."
"Ooh, stuff? Stuff like what?"
"Stuff like—I don't know—kind of—the trees came to life and tried to kill us. So that was fun."
Connie's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, really? That's amazing! You have to tell me all about it!"
"I'll tell you later. My phone's almost dead." She paused, and then tried again. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."
"What is it? Are you worried about the gym? Or is this about Miriam? I bet she's been awful. Is your mom giving you trouble? Oh, or Barrett?" Hayley flinched.
"Yeah… Yeah." Hayley shut her eyes and leaned her head back against the Pokécenter wall. She could do this. "It's just…"
Just, what?
Just, he hates me and left me to die when I needed him the most.
Just, I got so mad at him that I hit him right in the face.
Just, I don't think I can do this.
An angry beep from her phone brought her attention back to the screen. The red low-battery symbol was flashing in the bottom right corner. She sighed. "I guess I'm going to have to tell you later. My phone's about to die. I'll call you back, okay?"
"Okay." Connie quirked one eyebrow, her giddy smile now twisted into a frown of confusion. She knew something was up. "Promise you'll call me as soon as it's charged, okay? Don't keep me in suspense."
"Yeah. Okay." Hayley pressed the button to end the call. The video folded in on itself and disappeared. Moments later, the screen went black as the phone's battery gave up at last.
Bizarrely, Hayley felt almost relieved that the call had been cut short. She'd thought that if she could talk to anyone, it would be Connie. But what was she supposed to tell her? That she was a failure as a trainer? That all their work had been for nothing? That their dream was a lie? Connie wouldn't understand. She didn't have these problems. Things just worked out for her. She was good at this.
Hayley held the phone in her hand a while longer, staring at the blank screen as though it held an answer she desperately needed. But no answer came. Just her own face, staring silently back at her.
----------------------------------------
Just after lunchtime, Hayley's Pokédex chirped and told her that Barrett's checkup was done. Her feet felt made of lead as she shuffled up the line to claim his ball. But there were no uniformed authorities standing there waiting for her—just a harried nurse who barely glanced at her as she placed the Pokéball on the counter.
"Your Magby is in good health, for the most part. He still has the fracture on his arm, but it seems to be stable and healing nicely. I've left the medical hold on his file, so you'll need to get the all-clear from us before challenging Roxanne, but low-impact training and battling should still be okay."
"All right," Hayley said, clearing her throat as her voice croaked. "That's good—"
"There's also one issue I need to talk to you about." The nurse turned from the computer screen and looked Hayley directly in the eyes, and Hayley's heart shot into her throat. This was it. "Do you know what it is?"
Hayley's mouth was dry, and she opened and shut it a few times as sound failed to escape. This was it. Should she run? She wanted to run, but the bodies of other trainers pressed in around her, and her limbs wouldn't move. She cleared her throat again, cast her eyes down, and looked away. "I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again. Please don't report me."
The nurse gave an uncaring hum. "I'm not reporting you for now, but you need to be more attentive. I know it's sometimes hard for new trainers to judge how much food their Pokémon needs, especially when traveling on a route, but it's important that a battling Pokémon gets all the nutrients it needs. That goes double for a baby species like Magby, triple for a baby species that's recovering from an injury. If his weight drops again at his next checkup, there's going to be a serious conversation."
Oh.
His weight. Because he hadn't been eating.
Because he was on a hunger strike. Because he hated her.
"I'll make sure," she stammered out, barely keeping control of her voice as the words left her throat. "Thank you." She grabbed Barrett's Pokéball from the counter and hurried away before the nurse could change their mind.
It wasn't just that he didn't listen to her. It wasn't just that she'd hit him. Barrett hated her so much that he wouldn't even eat. This was beyond normal new-trainer problems—he was making himself sick just to spite her, and she couldn't do anything about it. At some point, she had to stop thinking about herself and her own feelings. She had to really, really think about what was best for Barrett.
Hayley didn't go back to her room. Instead, she walked left, towards an electronic bulletin board she'd seen before. It was a massive, attention-grabbing thing, made up of an extra-wide television monitor that spanned an entire wall of the lobby. Text and images filled every square inch of its surface, their LED glow reflected in the tiled floor as they danced across the screen: weather reports and travel advisories that scrolled along the bottom edge, animated advertisements for trainer supplies and Pokémon food and PSPN programming that took up conspicuous spots in the center, and news reports squeezed in between them that showed the latest happenings on the world training scene. In what was left of the free space, smaller messages blinked in and out, appearing and disappearing as they cycled through a list:
6th-tier trainer looking for partner for trip into Mt. Chimney. No newbies, no whiners, no dead weights. Email below.
SWABLU babies for sale, bred from champion ALTARIA. HSPCP-certified, quality guaranteed. Call and ask for Avery.
We'll help you beat Roxanne FAST—easy, INTENSE training sessions for you and your Pokémon! Stop by our studio on 63rd and Pine. GET PUMPED!
sum1 please help i need a whismur? help me get one
Tucked away in the corner of the hall, almost hidden by the glaring light of the screen, was a shabby computer on top of a desk. She sat down in the chair, cringing as it creaked under her, and unclipped Barrett's Pokéball from her belt. The scratches and smudges stood out in sharp relief under the bright lights, and they almost seemed to dance as she placed it on the table. She stared at it for a while, and then slowly tapped out a message onto the keys.
Want to trade—
No, that wasn't right. She didn't want to trade. If she said it like that, then people would think she was just some careless newbie who switched out Pokémon as easily as sneakers. She deleted the line and tried again.
Need to trade—
But that wasn't right either, was it? She didn't need to do this. She had choices. She'd had so many chances to make this right, and she'd spoiled every one. She frowned deeply and smashed the backspace key.
Looking to trade—
There it was.
Looking to trade Magby, level 9. Good fighter, strong-tempered. Needs an experienced trainer.
An experienced trainer. Someone besides her. Staring at the line, her stomach churned. This… this was the right thing to do. Wasn't it? It was like Howie had said; keeping Barrett was irresponsible. She couldn't control him, and she obviously couldn't give him whatever it was that he needed. This had to be the right thing to do.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
But it didn't feel right. And if she blindly traded him away, he might end up with another person like her. Someone who hurt him and then got rid of him in the first week. Barrett had five names on his trainer list; he could probably handle a sixth, but what about a seventh? An eighth? A fifteenth? How long was this cycle going to keep going?
She shut her eyes, count to ten, and then deleted the half-filled form.
----------------------------------------
Hayley wandered through Rustboro, trying to block out the pain in her legs and the thoughts in her mind. With no clear destination, her path fell into an unsteady, irregular spiral—circles around the Pokémon Center campus first, then the trainer's district at large. Then, as the sight of happy trainers and happy Pokémon gradually became too much to bear, she meandered out into the surrounding boulevards. The glitzy LED billboards and glass storefronts full of colorful merchandise faded out, as did the chaos of heavy foot traffic. The skyscrapers were replaced with old, crammed-together low-rise buildings, some of which were homes and some of which were businesses. Old-fashioned signs advertising small cafes and specialty stores dotted the narrow, tree-lined sidewalk, but many of the shop windows were dark, and nobody passing by gave them a second glance. Further out from that, the sound of pedestrians disappeared completely, replaced by the whoosh of passing cars. The buildings changed again, this time to boxy office parks and warehouses surrounded by parking lots and chain-link fences. Beyond this would be the suburbs, she figured, but she wouldn't be able to walk that far before dark, and she had nothing to do there anyway. She had nothing to do here.
But at least there was no one around to judge her.
By now, her legs were burning and wobbling underneath her. She found a staked-off dirt lot away from the road—the future site of Aprico Logistics North Rustboro Branch, a nearby sign assured her—and sat down on the barren ground. She took out Barrett's Pokéball and turned it over in her hands, enlarging it, shrinking it, enlarging it again. What would happen if she let him out here? There wasn't much to burn, except for her. Maybe he'd land her in the hospital this time. Or maybe he'd run off to the road and get picked up by someone else. She had a brief, hysterical image of the Magby standing by the road, one stubby finger extended, hitchhiking his way across Hoenn to find a better life. Hayley wanted to laugh, but the sound wouldn't come out of her, so she just hugged herself tight and shook her head in silence.
"You're not supposed to be here." She snapped out of her thoughts to see a boy standing in front of her. He looked like he might be a few years older than her, but it was hard to tell, since dark sunglasses hid his eyes completely. His hair was bright white and gelled into spikes, held off his face by a folded red bandana, and he was dressed in jeans and a black polo shirt. Hayley tried to scramble to her feet, but her knees weren't ready for action just yet, and she fell gracelessly back to the ground.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. This was all she needed, to get fined for trespassing on top of everything else. "I just wanted to sit for a while, I didn't think anyone would mind—"
He waved his hand to cut her off. "It's fine. I'm not a narc. But this is private property. Didn't you see the sign?"
"Yeah. But there's nothing here."
"There will be. Land in the city can't just be empty space; it's all got to be snapped up, developed, and commoditized." He stepped closer and bobbed his head, seeming to look her up and down from behind his sunglasses. "You're a long way from the trainer's district. Are you lost?"
She flushed. "I'm not lost. I was just… taking a walk."
"Seeing the sights in the most boring part of the city?"
"Well, you're here too, aren't you?"
"Touché." He closed the rest of the distance between them and extended a hand down to her. She eyed it suspiciously—this guy was weird. Not as weird as the bug catcher in the forest, but definitely still weird. If he was planning something, though, it was probably better for her to be on her feet for it. She raised her own hand and let him pull her up. Her legs burned and trembled, but they held her weight.
"That's bad luck," the boy said abruptly. Hayley frowned.
"What?"
He pointed to her wrist. She glanced down and saw Connie's half-Pokéball charm. Instinctively, Hayley closed her other hand around the wrist and tugged it against her chest. "I don't know what you mean."
The boy leaned back, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "A Pokéball split down the middle means someone broke it like that on purpose. Either they're throwing it away after a failed catch, or they're destroying it to break the link to a Pokémon they've released." He paused. "Trainers also do it sometimes when the Pokémon that was inside passes away. It's kind of a ritual. Saying goodbye."
"Oh." The sound struggled to squeeze out past the lump in Hayley's throat. "I, I didn't know."
"It's just a superstition. Doesn't mean anything if you don't believe in it." He inclined his head towards her hands, which were now white and trembling. "Sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out."
Hayley let out something that was supposed to be a laugh, but sounded more like a ragged gasp. "No, it's, it's okay. It's just, kind of funny—that it would mean that." She clenched her jaw; she was not going to break down for the second time in two days. But the look on her face was obvious, and the stranger noticed.
"Having a rough time? You look like you're pretty new at this."
"Yeah," she said, gripping her wrist tighter. "I started on Thursday."
"It can't be that bad already."
"It is!" she shot back, sudden anger rising in her. "The—the forest tried to kill me. And my training partner sucks, and my Pokémon hates me. He keeps attacking me, and he's starving himself just to prove some kind of point—"
"Why does he hate you?"
"Because I'm no good!" She was shouting now. "I made him lose a battle. I don't let him do what he wants—I don't even know what he wants, except to burn things! I'm his fifth trainer and he's only a year old, and I don't want to give up on him like everyone else, but I keep messing things up, and I—" Her voice cracked, and she shoved the heels of her hands into her eyes. No tears.
The boy was quiet. He was quiet for so long that she started to think he might have actually left, but when she got her breathing under control and uncovered her face, he was still there. Still just looking at her.
Finally, he said: "You know what the washout rate is for trainers in the first three months?"
"Fifty-six percent," she muttered automatically. Of all the numbers she'd had to memorize for her exams, that one had stuck with her.
"Fifty-six percent. At six months, it's seventy-three percent. One year, eighty-five. And the number keeps going up from there. In the end, less than two percent of people who set out to make competitive training their full-time job actually make a living from it long-term. Everyone else winds up in careers that might involve handling Pokémon, but that aren't training-related at all. Why do you think that is?"
"Because it's hard." It was the obvious answer, but he shook his head.
"It's because the system wants you to fail."
She scoffed. "That doesn't make any sense."
"It does. Think about it—what made you decide you wanted to be a trainer?"
"I…" She trailed off. It wasn't just one thing. It felt like she'd always wanted it, from her earliest memories of watching the regional championships on TV and thinking that could be me. "I just knew."
"You knew because the system told you. They beamed trainer propaganda into your head from the moment you were born, they set you up for failure, and now they're ready to reap the rewards."
"So the 'system' wants me to be a trainer, but the 'system' also wants me to fail at being a trainer?" She'd changed her mind; this guy was definitely crazier than the bug catcher in the forest.
"Yes. And now you have a choice to make." He took a step towards her, and she stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. He paused, then shook his head. "You have to decide. Do you want to keep competing in this rigged game the system set up for you? Or do you want to break out of it?"
Hayley didn't know what he meant. She didn't know what any of this meant. She was tired and her legs hurt and she was getting hungry and there was a Magby inside a Pokéball ready to attack her the moment she let him out, and this stranger was lecturing her, and suddenly it was all too much to handle.
"I need to go," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry, I just… I really need to go." And she started walking away. Her body tensed as she walked past him, anticipating him reaching out and grabbing her to stop her from leaving, but he didn't move. She made it to the end of the lot and was turning onto the sidewalk when his voice called after her:
"Remember. Think about what you want. And think about what your Pokémon wants, too."
----------------------------------------
What did Barrett want?
The sun was sinking below the skyline, casting the Rustboro Pokémon Center lawn in a mix of orange light and dark shadows. Hayley was once again holding Barrett's Pokéball in her hand. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but she tried to force herself to focus. She'd been thinking the entire way back, and now she had to put her thoughts together.
She didn't know what Barrett wanted. Start simpler, then: what did Barrett like? Well, he liked attacking her. He liked fire. He liked battling, and he liked battling with fire. He liked Connie, and he tolerated Miriam, but he didn't like her, even before she'd given him a reason to hate her. Why? Connie was a natural with Pokémon, so it was natural for him to like her, but Miriam? Connie had suggested it might be because Hayley was nervous, but even when she was direct with him, it hadn't helped.
What did Barrett hate, besides her? He hated being put in his Pokéball. He hated being told what to do. He hated losing. He hated… anything at all that stopped him from doing what he wanted to do.
She shut her eyes, and she imagined she was a Magby. Two feet tall, claws instead of fingers, a body full of fire. If Hayley had been told all her life that she wanted to be a trainer, then what had the "system" told Barrett?
Get bigger. Be stronger. Fight. Most Pokémon were born with those instincts. If Hayley had grown up wanting to be a strong trainer, then Barrett had grown up wanting to be a powerful Pokémon. So if Hayley was being held back by her own mistakes, then what was holding Barrett back?
She thought about all their interactions. The way he craned his neck to glare at her when she talked. The way he'd proudly sized up Foley in the backyard and stood in the path of Mona in the battle with Howie. The way he'd raced to fight every Pokémon on the route, as if the world was going to run out of Zigzagoon and Wurmple. The way his anger reached a peak whenever she physically grabbed him or called him back into his ball.
He had a overwhelming personality, and enough ego and aggression to fill a twenty-story building. But… he didn't have the body to match it. At one year old, he was still a Magby. Still able to be bossed around by anyone whose hands he fell into. Still losing battles to teams of Wurmple.
It all clicked into place at last. She knew what Barrett wanted. And a plan formed in her mind.
A flick of her wrist, and Barrett appeared on the ground in a flash of light. She caught the ball as it bounced back without looking at it, her eyes firmly set on the Magby before her. His time in stasis had done nothing to improve his mood. Before she could even open her mouth to speak, Barrett lunged at her, sparks leaping from his yellow beak. His fury made him clumsy, though; she easily dodged his assault with a quick step to the side, leaving him fumbling for balance behind her. As he spun around, Hayley held up her hands. "Barrett. I'm not going to fight you."
He didn't listen. He charged again, and again she sidestepped. Then again, and again. Smoke poured from his nostrils as he ran, swiping his claws, spitting embers. This time, though, Hayley was the bigger person—literally—and didn't raise her voice or do anything to stop him. He was going to tire himself out eventually. And he did, somewhere around the fifteenth or twentieth round, finally falling flat on the ground with embers dribbling from his beak. Once she was satisfied he wasn't getting up again, Hayley crouched down on the ground. Barrett growled at her, but she kept her distance, and he was too exhausted to do anything.
"I haven't been listening to you," she said, rocking on the balls of her feet. "And I'm sorry." His eyes flashed, but she kept going. "I'm sorry for hitting you, too. That was wrong of me, and I shouldn't have done it. I guess you could say that since you haven't been listening to me either, and you've been attacking me since the moment we met, that makes us even. Except it doesn't. It's not your job to take care of me, and it is my job to take care of you."
A cool evening breeze blew past, rustling the grass and the leaves on the trees. On the ground, Barrett twitched, but didn't get up. Hayley continued: "I could trade you to someone else, but I thought about it, and I don't think that's what you want. If that is what you want, I can do it, but then you'd still be an angry little Magby, just on someone else's team. That's not going to fix anything. Because I think what you want, more than anything, is to evolve."
His head twitched up, and he locked eyes with her. Not angrily, not scornfully, but with full, undivided attention. Finally, finally, she'd hit the mark.
"I don't know what your other trainers were like. But I know they didn't get you what you wanted. Maybe they didn't spend any time with you, or maybe they didn't like to battle. You might think training sucks and you're better off picking fights in the wild. But I can tell you now, you're never going to get strong just by roasting Wurmple."
Barrett huffed and slowly picked himself off the ground. Hayley watched him warily, but he didn't approach her—instead, he turned and sat down with his back facing her. Maybe that was progress, maybe not. Hayley shifted positions as well, sitting back on the ground and draping her arms across her lap. "I'm going to take on the League, Barrett. That's where all the strongest Pokémon are. If you come with me, you can get real battles, ones that will help you grow. And maybe you don't believe me, maybe you heard all of this from another trainer before, but you won't know unless you give me a chance. Are you willing to do that?"
The muscles in Barrett's back twitched, but he stayed silent. Hayley pressed on.
"If you stay, I'll do everything I can to help you get stronger. I'm going to train you every day, and I'll put you in as many battles as you can handle. You can fight however you want in battle; I'll give you suggestions, but you can ignore them. But there are also going to be rules." She held up three fingers and ticked them down one by one as she went, despite the fact that Barrett couldn't see them. "One, no attacking anyone you're not in a battle with. That includes me, other humans, and, while we're in the city, other Pokémon. Wilds are one thing, but we're both going to get in trouble if you attack someone's pet." Barrett scoffed, as though the idea of pet was absurd to him. "Two, no setting fires. I know sometimes it's an accident, but I can tell when you're doing it on purpose. I mean it, I really can. And three, in a battle, when I tell you to stop, you stop. Barrett, look at me." Wonder of wonders, he actually turned around and stared her straight in the eye. "This is important. When I say a battle is over, it's over. If you break this rule, we both might get kicked out of the League, and then there won't be any more strong Pokémon for us to fight. Do you understand?"
Barrett crossed his arms, and Hayley chewed the inside of her lip. But then, there it was—the tiniest of nods. Barely an incline of the head, and he kept direct eye contact with her the whole time. If it was possible to nod sarcastically, Barrett had just managed it. But it was enough to keep going.
"As long as you stick to these rules, I'll keep you out of your Pokéball whenever I can, unless you're getting a checkup at the Center or there's a building where you're not allowed to go. But the moment you break one of these rules, I'll put you right back in your ball, and then we're going to have another long talk. Like this one. Is that fair?"
Another tiny nod. Things were finally going well—but now came the most important part. The part she'd been dreading. Hayley bit her lip and shifted to her knees. "Barrett. Pay attention." She lifted both arms, then crossed one over the other in a T shape. "You can't talk, and neither of us knows sign language. But if you think I'm being unfair, or if there's anything else you want to try to tell me, then make this shape with your arms."
Barrett stared at her arms—and then down at his own. One of which was in a cast. Hayley cursed. "Okay, so, make the shape on the ground or something. Can you do that?" Barrett rolled his eyes. "Show me. Show me that you can do it." As slowly as he possibly could, Barrett bent over and pulled one disgruntled claw through the dirt. Two lines—an unmistakable T. Hayley beamed. "Great! And—" As quickly as it had come, her smile vanished. Hayley swallowed.
T for time-out. T for talking. T for...
"If we're talking, and you want to tell me that you're done with me—make another T. And then I'll know that it's time to trade you, or release you, or whatever else it is you've decided. Okay?"
Barrett nodded, and this one wasn't a little nod like the others. He dipped his head vigorously once, twice, before straightening up and staring her in the eye again. Hayley smiled once more, but this time it was thin, strained. Barrett didn't seem to notice.
"Then we have a deal. First thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to bring you out to train. And then we'll see just how strong you can get." She held out her hand to him. He stared at it for a while, tilting his head as he thought. She kept her forced smile on her face. No showing weakness. No showing doubt.
The sun had passed below the horizon, and the night air was still. Off in the distance, an Illumise chirred, and a Volbeat called out to answer. For a long time, Barrett didn't move; he just stared her down with odd, unblinking eyes. But finally, he stood up. He toddled across the distance between them. And he begrudgingly held out his tiny hand to meet hers.