The following school day passes swiftly, and soon enough I find myself living up to my promise made over the phone. Cherrygrove City has the most gorgeous beaches in all of eastern Johto. The warm glow of the midday evening sun casts sparkles onto the crashing waves and illuminates the foaming ocean spray. White sand speckled with small shells and rounded pebbles shifts underfoot as I head to the boardwalk. Gentle gusts tousle my hair and bring me the comforting scent of the sea. My stress fades alongside the dimming daylight as I enjoy the peaceful ambiance.

I'm careful not to get too close to the water, though. Besides not wanting to get my shoes wet, I've never been a strong swimmer. Or, well, a swimmer at all. I prefer staying in my lane on the land, thank you very much.

The only other people here are Chance and Delibird. Delibird leans against the railing of the boardwalk with her flippers stretched above her head in a pose. Chance crouches down in front of her to get a shot of her gazing wistfully into the ocean, counting aloud as he snaps dozens of pictures.

Delibird notices me first as I approach them. She scowls and adjusts her sunhat to block her face from my vision. "De," she huffs.

Chance looks over his shoulder at me and beams. "Oh, hey there! You made it."

"Yeah, I did," I say, returning the grin. "What's going on here?"

"Ah, I suppose you don't know. I run a social media page for Delibird on Zipagram. It's very official; we've gotten nearly 30,000 followers now. We started getting sponsors and everything like that for our shoots a few months ago. It's why we've got designer items and things like that; it's from Delibird's fans," he explains as normally as one describes the weather. He chuckles at my shocked gape. "You can follow her if you'd like. Her handle's @delichic."

"So Delibird's a real model?" It's normal for people to run accounts for their Pokémon, like how my aunt does with her Carnivine. Granted she's not that popular because her chomp-happy plant buddy isn't photogenic, but that's beside the point. The point is that normal people don't receive Dolce & Carvanha belts for posting cute videos of their sneezing Skitty.

Chance laughs. "She's more like an aspiring model; we've still got quite the ways to go."

Delibird's feathers ruffle, offended by her Trainer's words. I'm curious to ask more about the subject, but that's not why I was summoned to the beach here today. It's a tale for a later date.

I tilt my head and ask, "By the way, what did I leave behind the other day? I didn't find anything missing from my bag last night."

Chance chuckles again, but he's nervous this time. "Well, you see, I've got a funny story about that. You didn't leave behind anything well, ah, physical."

I scrutinize the way he's fidgeting with his camera and avoiding eye contact. "What are you talking about?"

"Your proposal." He stands up and steps closer to me. A cotton candy-colored blush colors his cheeks. "I accept it."

I blink once then twice and then finally release a very intelligent, "Huh?"

His laughter raises in pitch as he rubs the back of his neck and says, "I want to go on that journey you mentioned yesterday. I thought about it a lot, and I think it's a fantastic opportunity. I'd like to go if the offer still stands."

I look to Delibird for help, assuming this is a joke. She scowls at me. I look back at Chance and search his face for mischief. There's none. The only one dumbfounded here is me.

"That doesn't make sense," I say with an awkward smile, unsure of how to react. "I mean, are you sure? You were giving me more than valid reasons why you wouldn't want to go yesterday. It's weird that you changed your mind so suddenly on such a big decision."

I don't mean to try to dissuade him, but his sudden shift in judgment is weird. Suspicious. I study his body language as he rambles. His legs are crossed with one right in front of the other, and he can't stop moving his hands. His eyes dart quickly back and forth, never lingering in one space for more than a few seconds. He won't stop touching his face.

"You're lying," I accuse bluntly, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence. It takes a liar to know a liar. "Why?"

Chance gawks at me like a startled Hoothoot. "What? N-no, I'm not. I'm most definitely not a liar. That's the last thing I am. How dare you—"

"You're a bad liar at that," I tease, amused by his flustered actions. "It's written all over your face. Just say the truth, dude. Why'd you change your mind?"

"Dude," he repeats in a mumble, amused by my oh-so-sophisticated language. He then sucks in air through his teeth, hesitates, and answers normally, "I've gotten myself in quite the predicament myself. I could use your help to solve it just like how you could use mine."

I arch a brow. "What is it?"

"I'm actually not from around here; my family's from Goldenrod. I've been staying here with my grandparents who—and I've only learned this recently—have been feeding my parents tall tales about how I've been doing here at the academy. They've built me up to be this important, star student athlete. It's why my parents had been sending me all these gifts and things; they think I've got perfect grades and a good social standing and all of that. I thought they'd just gotten raises in their jobs and wanted to treat me."

Chance stares at the expensive camera in his hands. It has to be worth at least a hundred thousand Pokéyen. His guilt pours off in waves and seeps into my soul, causing a pit of dread to knot in my stomach.

"Can't you just explain what happened?"

He smiles bitterly. "And tell them everything they've been praising me for for the past four years is a lie? I don't think I could bear it. Sorry if it sounds selfish, but I can't bring myself to do that."

I chew on my lip, trying to place myself in his shoes. Every path he could take would lead to misfortune. To tell the truth or to live a lie? The question stings because it's the one I've been asking myself nonstop lately. Sympathy tugs at my heartstrings. Maybe I should...

"Where do I come into play here?"

Chance's eyes widen in surprise; I guess anyone would be surprised if someone agreed to be part of a plan as shady as this. He clears his throat then says, "Be my girlfriend."

There has to be cotton in my ears because the answer I thought I heard makes zero sense. I squint at him like he grew two Doduo heads atop his shoulders and say, "I'm sorry, what?"

He snickers. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." My hand twitches, yearning to connect with my head and face-palm. This feels like a dumb prank, but the sincerity in Chance's voice tells me otherwise. "I thought you were going to ask me to share my Pokédex or Gym Badges or something. Why do you need a girlfriend out of all things?"

"I caught my grandpa phoning my mom and telling her that I was bringing home a 'sweetheart from school,'" he says, using air-quotes. "I can come up with excuses for all the other things they've come up with, but I need proof of at least one accomplishment. This one's the easiest."

Arceus. Here I thought my predicament was a tough one to lie through, but his is on another level. I double-check, "So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend so your parents won't suspect your lies and find out you're a disappointment?"

Chance winces. "Yeah, that's it. You do that, and I'll travel with you on your journey. My parents stay proud, and you get to keep your reputation. It's a win-win for the both of us."

A normal, sane person would reject this ridiculous plan. They'd say what we're doing is immoral and that we should just 'fess up and own up to our actions. It'd make our lives easier and happier. Our current strife would pay off in the end.

But... that same rational person isn't the one determined to become the Champion of the Indigo League. I need every boost I can get to make my dream a reality. If I can't do even this, I don't know who I am anymore. Even if I didn't want things to come out this way, I still need this.

And come on, what's the worst that could happen?

I stretch my hand out and offer a smirk. "Alright, Chance. Let's do it."

Chance reflects my smile and shakes my hand. "Great."

I try rationalizing our actions for my sanity's sake, saying, "It can't be that hard to keep up a lie like this, can it?"

"It'll be easy," he agrees. "We can do this."

I bite my tongue. Deep down, I want to add on, But can we? I leave the thought silent, though. We need optimism in this house, not antagonism.

Before I can pull away, though, Chance tugs me to his side. He fishes out his Pokégear and turns on his camera app, facing it forward for a selfie. Pokégears have seriously come a long way since their first launch; they're identical to smartphones now.

"Say cheese," he says.

I don't think twice and beam up at the camera, not asking my question until after the photo. "What's that for?"

"We've got to start racking up evidence now to prove we're the realest fake relationship there is," Chance replies. He aims his Pokégear at me. "Smile! You're going to be my wallpaper."

I blank. "Eh?"

There's a click, and Chance lets loose a bark of laughter. Snickering, he shows me the photo of myself making a horribly unflattering face. I gasp and try to snatch the Pokégear out of his hands, but he's too quick and holds the device over his head.

"Delete that!" I demand, lunging for the damned device.

I can practically see the horns poking out of his fluffy, red hair as he returns, "Sorry, Pres, but that one's too good to let go of. I won't use it as my background, but I'm not deleting it, either."

I scowl at him. "We're over!"

His smug grin vanishes alongside the color in his face. "W-wait! Don't say that. Look, here, I'll delete it." He shows me his Delibird-filled camera roll. "See? It's all better now."

"Good." I was completely bluffing with that threat, but it's nice to see he's considerate. I pause and then add, "If we're really doing this, though, we need to lay out some ground rules. You write down yours, I'll write down mine, and we can talk about them tomorrow."

"Is taking silly photos against your policy?" he jests.

I roll my eyes, but I chuckle anyway. "You'll find out later."

This situation is weird, but I can work with it. Chance and I can pull all of this off if we get our game-plan together. You know what they (aka me, myself, and I) say: plans make perfect. We can do this. I hope.

(-o-)

When I get home, I decide it's better to tell my family upfront about how I've chosen a new traveling companion instead of Claire hearing it secondhand from gossip spread by Skylar. The best time to share important news like this is during our family dinner.

As I take my seat at supper, I'm reminded of just how much I love family dinners. A delicious pot roast sits in the center of the table, surrounded by multiple side dishes like steamed vegetables, bread rolls, and mashed potatoes. The savory scents cause my mouth to water and stomach to grumble. I zone into the food so much I nearly miss how my family sits down, too, with Claire to my right, Mom to my left, and Dad opposite of me.

Dad hums to himself as he gives out servings, emitting a special kind of happiness he saves only for when Mom gets home early. She's a professor at Cherrygrove's local community college, so it's normal for her to return late at night since she stays overtime to finish grading assignments and the like. Exhaustion slumps her figure, but her face is bright as she fondly watches Dad move around. It's almost as if they've never left their honeymoon phase when they act this way.

Claire, who scowls at the gross displays of affection, tries to shift everyone's attention as she asks, "How was work, Mom?"

Mom grins. "It was good, thank you. How have all of your days been?"

"I'm almost done editing that Patrat novel," Dad answers, relief clear in his tone. He's a successful freelance editor who seems to attract the craziest of authors. To call his latest client a pain in the neck is an understatement.

Claire goes next, deadpanning, "I died a thousand bloody deaths during my chemistry exam. The old Claire is gone. You're currently speaking to a ghost."

"Well, Ghost Claire better finish what's on her plate and not give it to her Growlithe," Mom says, freezing Claire who's lowering a carrot beneath the table.

She sulks and grumbles, "Fine."

I take the lull in conversation as an opportunity and pipe up, "Mine was good, too. I found a new person to travel with."

"That was fast," Claire comments with a suspicious side-eye.

Dad beams. "That's great news!" He starts drinking his water and asks around his cup, "What's her name?"

My half-smile contorts into a sort of grimace. "His name's Chance Lively."

Dad chokes, spluttering water everywhere. Claire flinches away from him with a half-cry-half-laugh. Mom's soul seems to leave her body as she takes care of her husband, patting him on the back as he coughs into his napkin.

"You're traveling with a boy?" he finally says, more horrified by the prospect than anything else.

I shrug. "Yeah. He's a photographer from the Newspaper Club. You don't have to worry about anything 'cause we're just friends."

"Just friends," Claire antagonizes, mimicking my voice at an obnoxiously high pitch. "Suuuure."

"Claire," I hiss. The last thing I need is her making things worse than they already are.

I spare a glance at Dad who has his face buried in his hands, looking like he's going through an existential crisis. He's always been an overprotective worrywart. Guilt nips at my conscience, but I refuse to give this plan up.

"I think it's a great idea for Lyla to journey with someone new. I can't think of a single time in the past few years where she's brought over any friends except for Juliette," Mom says, taking my side. She could've really done without the backhanded compliment bit.

Claire, like the chaotic sadist she is, feels the need to add on, "I think it's a good idea, too. Teen pregnancy rates are on the decline. Lyla should pick it back up so Johto doesn't run out of babies."

"Shut up!" I try to kick her shins under the table, but she dodges. Instead, I kick her chair which makes a loud thud! that both bruises my ego and my foot all the while startling Growlithe into barking.

"Language!" Dad scolds, lacking his typical snark when he says it. He lifts his head to gaze somberly at me. "Are you serious, Lyla? This isn't a late April Fool's joke?"

I give him a sheepish grin. "Sorry, but it's not. I'm traveling with a guy, Dad. It's nothing to worry about. You know I'm smart enough not to do anything too stupid."

He lets out a deep breath from his nose. "I know, I know." His chair squeals as he springs to his feet, announcing, "I'm getting a drink. Would you like any, honey?"

"I'm good," Mom returns. Once Dad leaves the room, she leans in close and squeezes my hand, saying, "We're going to talk about this later. For now, let's try not to give your dad a heart attack."

I agree and resume eating my dinner, snickering behind a bread roll as Dad returns with a bottle of wine. He mumbles to himself as he pours himself a glass of the bitter substance and takes a long drink. If only he could absorb even half of the peace Mom exudes. It's cute how they balance each other out with their differences.

Mom doesn't take me up on her Serious Mom Talk™ until a few hours later after everyone had taken showers and began preparing for bed. She slides into my room and shuts the door behind her with her foot since her arms are full, carrying a large scrapbook ready to topple out of her grasp. Grunting, she plops down beside me on my bed and pushes the album into my lap.

"Take a look," she says, nodding.

"I've seen this one before," I comment, running my finger down its spine. "This is your journey photobook."

She hums and leans into me, flipping open the cover to the first page of pictures. "You're right."

We fall into a comfortable silence as we travel down Mom's memory lane. She was able to journey in the good, ol' days where you were given nothing but a Caterpie and a small wad of cash to explore the world. Unlike most ten-year-olds, though, Mom wasn't interested in battling to become the very best like no one ever was. All she'd wanted to do was leave the comfort of little New Bark Town and see the world.

Dozens of photographs showcase her posing at famous tourist destinations around the world. In Kalos, she winks at the camera amidst a flurry of glowing lights produced by the crystalline city of Anistar. She plays with islanders in Alola, wearing a lei and laughing as a fire-dancing Marowak twirl around her. Her smile's nervous and tight when she rides Unova's most famous Ferris wheel in Nimbasa City. Towards the end of the album when she'd at long last arrived in Kanto, she has her arm slung around my blushing dad while on a trip to Cinnabar Island.

"Looks like you had fun," I say after we're done, giving the book back to Mom.

She chuckles. "It was fun. My journey taught me so much. About the world, about Pokémon, about me. It's a once in a lifetime adventure so full of magic and wonder that you'll treasure for the rest of your life." She looks me in the eye and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "You need to savor every moment of it."

I promise earnestly, "I will. I've been looking forward to this journey my whole life. It's all I've ever worked for with all those softball games, club meetings, and girl scout retreats. It can't be anything less than perfect, I won't let it be."

Mom pulls me into a hug and murmurs, "I know becoming the Champion is important to you, sweetie, but don't let that stop you from making the decisions you want to make. You're a person, not a statistic. You don't have to follow all these trends you read about, like traveling with a person you barely know because magazines say Trainers who stay in groups are more successful."

"You've got it all wrong. I'm not traveling with Chance because of that stat; I'm traveling with him because I like being around him," I insist, lying through my teeth.

"How come I've never heard of him before then, hm?"

I force myself to ignore my growing guilt as I continue lying, "It's because I have a crush on him. He found me at school being sad over Juliette leaving me, and I asked him to travel with me through Johto. I don't know how, but he agreed. Don't tell Dad, please."

Like the angel she is, Mom doesn't overreact. Her chest rumbles as she laughs, and she combs her fingers comfortingly through my hair, teasing, "Weren't you making fun of Juliette the other day for being boy crazy? Look at who's crazy now."

My sigh of relief comes out much louder than I'd anticipated, spurring on both of us to giggle.

"I know, I know," I mutter. "I'm crazy."

You'd have to be crazy to agree to the scheme I've committed to. Chance might even have more screws loose than me with his diva Delibird and all. I withhold a groan of dread as anxiety washes over me because of this whole situation. Arceus, what have I gotten myself into?

‒‒‒‒‒

Question of the Chapter

What's your favorite thing to have for dinner?

Art

Look at this adorable graphic an-tan_ made 🥰