The rest of the routines unfolded in a spectacle of costumes, music, and moves. A boy in a karate gi performed katas and kiais while his Machoke raised boulders with rock tomb and smashed them with a variety of fighting attacks, both in time to a pumping, electronic beat. Another boy tossed an endless series of hoops onto the field that his Swellow snatched with its claws, tossed with gust, and flew through with quick attack, never letting a single one hit the ground. One girl set up an easel and painted an ink image of a Regirock in broad, graceful strokes, while her Geodude carved a matching statue on the field with rock tomb, rock blast, and brick break. The amount of control and style on display was simply mind-boggling—and yet it was never enough for the judges, who somehow always found ways to dock points. If it was up to Hayley, she would have given each performance a perfect ten.
Finally, after almost every other contestant had gone ontstage, it was Clarissa's turn. The announcer introduced her as he had everyone else. "From Petalburg City, it's the regent of ice! Put your hands together for Clarissa Banks!"
Clarissa was dressed in yet another kimono. This one was pure white, with gold and sky-blue patterns forming a landscape of stylized, tree-lined mountains. Glittering white beads shone in the braids and coils of her hair, giving the impression that it was dusted with snow, and she carried a paper parasol above her head. She moved towards the stage slowly, demurely, her sandals barely making a sound against the floor, and then she unlaced Ciel's dive ball from her obi and lobbed it onto the stage.
Snowflakes burst from Ciel as she appeared, glittering along with her icy skin under the bright spotlight. Kantonian string music began to play, and Clarissa withdrew a small crystalline bell from her pouch. She rang it, producing a haunting note that Ciel mimicked in perfect tune. A cloud formed above the field, and gentle snow began to fall. Another ring of the bell, another cry, and the snow fell faster and thicker, though not so much that Ciel was obscured from view. Clarissa replaced the bell in her pouch, placed her parasol on the ground, and took out a small flute, which she lifted to her lips and began to play. The sound joined with the string music to imitate a howling wind, prompting Ciel to shiver and split into several different images. Instead of every image appearing at once, though, they showed up two and three at a time, materializing throughout the snow cloud in random positions. It was a sort of imitation of a Froslass' snow cloak ability, Hayley realized. Intermittently, the images blew out spiraling mouthfuls of ice or snow that hovered in the air for a few moments before falling to the ground. When the center of the field was covered in a one-inch coating of frost, Ciel stopped, and her images disappeared, leaving just one copy of her at the center. She looked up again, made another keening sound that reverberated through Hayley and the rest of the audience, and lifted her hands. Gradually, she drew and compacted the fluttering snow into a crystalline ball of ice suspended above her. When it was almost as big as she was, she threw it towards the ceiling.
The weather ball hit the cloud, punching a hole through its center and exploding into shards of falling ice. The music picked up tempo, and Ciel, spinning in the new spotlight she'd created for herself, fired a water pulse in an expanding ring around her. On her second twirl, she switched from water pulse to ice beam, freezing the water in midair, and then on the third she switched back to water pulse. Gradually, she created a dome around herself, one that captured the remains of the falling ice and snow on its surface and sparkled in the light like a multifaceted jewel. Before the top of the dome could be sealed, she leapt through it, fired one more ice beam below her, and landed atop it. She gave one more twirl as the music ended, and then she and Clarissa both bowed towards the audience.
The applause she got was solid, even if it wasn't as loud as it had been for some of the other contestants. The judges were less polite.
BEAUTY 8.3
CLEVER 6.1
CUTE 5.9
TOTAL 20.3
"Ouch," Addison muttered. "I told her that routine was too beauty-heavy."
"Dorian and Sabine, though," Skye pointed out. "She wasn't going to do well in clever or cute anyway. I think running her beauty routine was smart."
"Wait, she had more than one routine prepared?" Hayley asked. "How did Ciel know which one to do, then? Does Clarissa tell her while they're in the waiting room, or—"
"It's the bell," Skye said. "She has three different bells that make different sounds, and based on which one she rings, Ciel knows which routine they're doing. They all use the same music and the same pacing, so switching them out on the spot is easy."
Clarissa looked cool as ever as she picked up her parasol, withdrew Ciel, and nodded towards the judges. The camera closed in on her face, but she didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow or purse her lips as she walked back to the wings. It was as though she was totally unbothered.
Hayley didn't have a lot of time to dwell on Clarissa's performance. She had exactly one minute, in fact, while the cleanup crew swept the snow from the field and dried out the clay. Then, it was Connie's turn, and all thoughts of Clarissa went out of her mind.
"Also from Petalburg City, give it up for the graceful dancer—Concordia Harper!"
Connie's look had evolved from her first contests in Verdanturf Town. She'd swapped her ballet flats for dance heels, and her simple pink dress was replaced with one that was pure white, with puffy off-the-shoulder short sleeves and a calf-length tulle skirt. A rose-gold choker, bracelet, and earrings shone against her skin, and while her hair was still in a simple bun, something about the style looked more professional than before.
Connie didn't wave to the audience as she'd done in Verdanturf. She didn't acknowledge them at all, aside from a curtsy that may as well have been given to an empty room. This time, Hayley didn't catch the movement as she retrieved Marcie's ball from under her dress—it seemed to just materialize in her hand. With a graceful toss, Marcie appeared on the field, wreathed in thin pink mist.
Classical music rang through the air, and Connie and Marcie started their dance. Both kept their chins lifted, staring into the middle distance rather than at each other—and yet, their steps were perfectly in time. Marcie was far past the point of being shaky, and each motion of her limbs and head carried the confidence of an experienced ballerina. If anything, Connie was the one who risked falling behind—her steps were practiced and carefully timed, but they lacked the effortless flow Marcie had achieved. With each step Marcie took, pink mist billowed from under her dress to circle around her feet, turning the clay field into a glittering cloudscape. Hayley was entranced, the same way she'd been when watching this routine on the practice field, and she suddenly realized that it wasn't simply because the routine was good—Marcie was weaving a spell over the audience. Leaves emerged from the mist on the ground, flashing from viridian to indigo and back again and swirling around her in a windless tornado. Marcie picked up the pace and lunged back and forth, leaves following her every move, and Connie really was struggling to keep up now, in a way she hadn't been on the practice field. Maybe it was the heels, or the nerves? Either way, the camera caught a flicker of relief crossing her face as Marcie cried out with disarming voice, cueing her to freeze.
Marcie split with double team, making five copies of herself arranged in a circle. Her first magical leaf had faded away, so she and her copies pulled up new ones and twirled away in tandem. They went back and forth, dipping in and out and circling around each other, and this time there was no flickering or clipping that would tell Hayley which one was real. Through some trickery of symmetry, the copies actually paired off with each other, performing identical steps in a way that made them look like three sets of dance partners. Finally, as the routine reached its end, the Ralts all turned and stepped into a circle once again, joining hands in the now-familiar spoke and wheel formation. This time, the wheel turned, with each Ralts raising and lowering its hands and occasionally twirling like dancers at a maypole. Their horns began to shine brighter and brighter, until the light left them completely and became suspended like a tiny sun in the center of the formation, and it grew brighter and brighter until Hayley couldn't see—
And then the light was gone, along with the mist, and the leaves, and the copies of Marcie. It was just Marcie herself, standing in the center of the field, motionless in second position just like Connie. The music faded out, and only then did Marcie and Connie drop their poses and face each other for the first time.
The crowd applauded and cheered—not as wildly as they had for Adelpha or some of the other performers, but a little louder than they had for Clarissa. Hayley bit her lip and waited for the judges to put up their score.
BEAUTY 8.0
CLEVER 6.7
CUTE 6.1
TOTAL 20.8
All of Hayley's fragile hope shattered. Connie had done better than Clarissa, but just by half a point. Six other competitors had already done better than that—it wouldn't be enough to qualify her for the battle round. And Connie must have known that, too, because as she walked back to the waiting room, she couldn't keep a bitter frown from spreading across her face.
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Hayley barely noticed the spectacle of the battle round, or Addison and Skye's running commentary on it. All she could think about was how Connie must be feeling, and how she could possibly talk to her now without making everything worse. She thought and thought about it, but came up empty. No matter what she said, it was going to be ugly. She just had to rip the band-aid off and get it over with.
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When they reunited in the lobby, Connie had changed back into a simple skirt, top, and slip-on shoes, and she'd pulled her hair free of its bun to let it dangle down her back. She was still wearing her heavy stage makeup, though, which was jarring to see this close, especially since she'd already plastered a forced smile across her face.
"Too bad about those judges," was the first thing Addison said, and Connie gave a short laugh.
"Right? Nothing I did was going to be good enough, so… I just tried my best." Her words dripped with false cheer. Hayley noticed that Marcie had been recalled back into her ball. "But the good news is that Adelpha, and I think Luis, are both qualified for ultra rank now? So I won't have to compete against them again."
"The judges at this rank are abysmal," Clarissa said, slipping out of the crowd to join their group. She, too, had changed clothes and shoes, though her hair was still in its complicated updo. "Normal rank judges don't care enough to be biased, and ultra and master rank judges have enough scrutiny that they can't be blatantly unfair. But super rank judges always have something to prove."
"We'll just have to hope for better judges next time," Connie said. "Or maybe I can—"
"Concordia Harper?" All of them turned to see a man standing a full head above most of the other adults there. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt and pressed jeans, and his tousled dark hair and stubbled cheeks were probably supposed to be fashionable. Connie blinked and stared up at him.
"Um. Hi! Just Connie's fine."
He smiled. "All right, Connie. I'm Reese, and I just wanted to say that the judges ripped you off. You were easily top six."
"Oh—thanks!" Connie beamed. "I mean, everyone else was really good too, so it's fine—"
"I mean it. You were top six," Reese repeated. "I can tell you don't believe me, but I've watched all your performances, and you're one of the best new talents this year."
"Really?" Under her makeup, Connie was actually blushing. Hayley had never seen that before. "That's… really nice of you to say. Thanks—oh, I already said thanks, didn't I?"
Reese's smile widened. "Don't thank me just yet. I also wanted to tell you that I run a dance studio here in the city, and I'd love to give you some private lessons to help bring you to the next level. I can bring you there right now and show you around, if you like. Just you and me."
"Really," Addison deadpanned, at the same moment that Hayley's stomach dropped and Connie's smile froze. Something about this guy wasn't right.
"Uh, that's cool." Connie's voice pitched up nervously. "But, I have to get back to the hotel? You know, I haven't eaten anything today, so I'd better—"
"I'll bring you to dinner," Reese said. "Come on, don't be shy. If it's for your career—"
He reached out to touch Connie's shoulder, and they all moved at once. Connie shrieked and jumped back, Addison yelled "Creep!" as Clarissa and Skye moved to flank either side of Connie, and Hayley, seeing red, jumped between Reese and Connie and shoved Reese in the chest. He didn't budge; it was like he was made of stone. Reese laughed, even as Hayley pulled back a fist and swung at him for real. He easily dodged it with a single step back.
"Easy." He held his hands above his head and laughed again. "I didn't know your friends were so feisty. You could have just said 'no,' you know?"
"She did!" Hayley yelled, at the same time Addison shouted "Get out of here, or I'm calling the cops!" The rest of the crowd was turning to stare now, and Reese, outnumbered, relented and shrugged his shoulders.
"Your loss. Hit me up later if you change your mind."
He turned and stalked out of the lobby, and all five of them watched until he'd disappeared through the door. Then, Skye turned to Connie and asked, "Are you okay?"
"I'm—" She stammered and shook her head. "I'm fine. He barely even touched me."
"I told you this scene was full of creeps," Addison said, and Skye glared at her.
"Not the time, Addie."
Clarissa had already pulled out her phone. "I'm reaching out to my manager now. They'll contact the Activities Committee and make sure he's banned from contest halls in the future."
"Thanks," Connie said, and then gave a short bark of laughter that was even more artificial than before. "Uh. Wow. They say you haven't made it as a coordinator until you have at least one stalker, so—I guess this means I've made it, huh?"
"You've made it twice, if you count Evrard," Addison said. Skye glared at her again.
Evrard. Reese. The judges. The videos. Clarissa. Everything Hayley had learned about her best friend's life in the past week circled around and around in her head, and finally she croaked out, "Connie." Four heads turned to look at her. She cast her eyes down, staring at the floor. "I know it's not a good time. So if you don't want to, you don't have to, but—I wanted to talk to you. About something."
"Uh, right now?" Connie's voice was shaky and odd, followed by an awkward pause, like she wanted to make a joke but couldn't string one together. "I have to bring my dress back to the hotel room—"
"I'll have the valet handle it," Clarissa said. "Why don't you go with Hayley? Some fresh air might help you feel better."
Hayley snuck a glance at Clarissa, and for just a moment, they locked eyes. In that moment, Hayley had the impression, for the first time, that she and Clarissa might be on the same side.
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Connie didn't want to eat anywhere with food that was "too heavy," so they wound up at a salad stand at the edge of Slateport's open-air market. Hayley wasn't really a salad person, but she wasn't hungry anyway. Neither was Connie, from the way she picked at her food. They sat in silence and stared at the crowds, the setting sun, the waves lapping at the cliffs—everywhere except at each other. In the end, Hayley spoke first.
"That guy," she said. "Are you… are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. It was just really weird—I've never had anything like that happen before." Connie stabbed a leaf with her fork, lifted it up, thought better of it, and put it into the bowl again. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"
"No. I mean… Not just that." Hayley chewed the inside of her cheek. This was it. "I wanted to… what I wanted to ask was… Are you happy? Doing contests?"
Connie lifted her head and stared directly at Hayley for the first time since they'd left the contest hall. "What? Duh, of course!"
"Even with… Reese? And Evrard, and those videos he makes about you? And the judges being unfair? And everything else—"
"Hayley, this is my dream," Connie said. "I've wanted to be a coordinator for as long as you've wanted to be a trainer—"
"And you're really good at it," Hayley said quickly. "I love watching you perform, and I know you'll make Grand Coordinator someday. But I'm just worried."
"Why? Because one freak decided to bother me?"
"It's not just that. You've been stressed all week—"
"Hayley, you stress, like, all the time."
"But you know that because I talk to you about it. You never want to talk to me about any of this, and I don't know why."
Connie frowned at her salad and stabbed her fork into it again. "Who told you about Evrard's videos, anyway?"
"Addison and Skye."
"You were talking to them behind my back?"
"No! I was—Skye wanted advice about the gym circuit, so we went to lunch, and it just came up—"
"So now you know everything about me, huh?" Without raising her head, Connie lifted her gaze to stare at Hayley. "You watched all his videos, you know what an awful trainer I am—"
"I only watched the one, and not even all the way—"
"You agree with him, though, don't you? You said it yourself, that I was only picking on Ceres because she's weak—"
"I never said that—"
"Well, you at least thought it. Marcie saw it and told me—"
"Marcie's been reading my mind?"
"She's a psychic! She reads everyone's minds! And she reads my mind the most, which is why I can't just constantly think about everything the way you do!" Connie dropped her fork and shoved her chair back with a squealing sound that made Hayley flinch. "I told you. She needs me to be happy. I'm not even—I won't even be able to bring her out of her ball tonight, my head's so messed up. She'll be so lonely."
Hayley swallowed. Her throat had gone painfully dry. "Connie. Trying to be happy all the time for Marcie—it isn't working." Connie gave her a look of such sheer, shocked betrayal that for a moment, Hayley felt dizzy. "What I mean is… I can tell when you're upset about things. And she's psychic, so she can definitely tell when you're upset about things. Just because you're smiling a lot, it doesn't—it's not working."
"So I'm a fuck-up and I'm hurting my Pokémon. Is that what you brought me here to say?" All hint of emotion had gone out of Connie's voice, leaving it completely flat.
"I'm not saying that at all," Hayley insisted. "I'm saying that since you've already felt bad around Marcie this many times, and she hasn't left you, then maybe it's okay if you—"
"It doesn't work like that. Arceus, it doesn't work like that." Connie shot to her feet and clutched at her hair. "Whenever I'm not happy, I'm hurting her. That's how Ralts are. And—if what you're saying is right, then… She's been hurting all this time."
"Connie, calm down," Hayley pleaded. Connie didn't seem to hear her.
"The breeder was right. I should never have taken her." She lifted a hand and began ticking names off on her fingers. "The breeder was right. Evrard was right. Osmund was right. You're right, and I'm wrong." Then she looked up again, straight into Hayley's eyes. "And I'm not even any good at contests! So why am I doing all this? Why am I putting her through this at all?"
"Connie…" Hayley stood up, and Connie twitched back.
"Don't. You're right, but I can't—I can't handle that right now." Hayley took a step forward, and Connie threw out a hand to stop her. "Don't. I need to—to be alone. To think. Please. Just let me think." And she turned and ran down the darkening streets of Slateport. Hayley stared after her, warring with herself, taking a halting step forward before locking her legs in place again.
She wanted to go after her. She wanted to throw herself forward and chase her down, the same way she'd tried to do with Miriam in Granite Cave. But if Connie wanted to be alone, then… maybe she should be alone. Maybe she needed a night to herself, to sort through all the things she hadn't been letting herself dwell on. Maybe being alone would help. And if she did turn out to want Hayley with her, then, well, she could always call and ask.
And so, Hayley sat down at the table again and resigned herself to a long night of waiting.
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It was an hour later when the call came in. Despite nearly dropping her phone in her haste to answer it, Hayley's thumb froze a fraction of an inch away from the green "answer call" icon. What should she say? Should she apologize? Would that make it worse? Should she—should she…
The call went to voicemail, and Hayley cursed and pulled up the menu to call Connie back. But before she could, her phone started ringing again. Another call from Connie. This time, Hayley picked it up before her brain could tell her not to. "Connie?"
From the other end of the line, there was no answer—just a heavy, muffled breathing. "Connie? Hello?" Still nothing. Hayley frowned. "Did you pocket dial me, or…?"
"Hayley." Connie's voice came as a sharp whisper that crackled through the speaker. "I'm… I don't know what to do, I… I need your help."
"What happened?" Hayley had stood and was already walking towards the street before she realized she didn't know where she was going. "Where are you?"
"I don't know what to do," Connie repeated. "There was—something happened—and Clarissa—Marcie—"
"Tell me where you are and I'll come help." Rising panic clawed at her insides, but Hayley took a deep breath and pushed it down. "What street are you on? Do you know?"
"I… I don't…" A sob broke through the line, followed by a shallow gasp. "I… Camphor Street. I think. Near the west cape. Please, hurry, I can't—"
"I'm on my way." Hayley had already pulled up the directions on her phone, and now she was running. "I'll be there soon, okay? Hang on."
"Okay." Connie's voice was barely audible now. "Please hurry. Please." And then there was a click, and the line went dead.