I SO definitely regret letting my parents send me to regular school. Especially when said school is in WYNDON, of all places; only the most populated city in all of Galar!

When you've been raised in a small town in a very secluded place with minimal tourists where 90% of the population is composed of old women and children, you tend to be a bit skittish around other people. Even the people you pass by on the street every single day of your entire life, but maybe that's just a me thing.

I should probably back up, seeing as this is my first journal entry, and I'm supposed to be treating this like I'm talking to someone real to 'boost my confidence'. Alas; even in the written word, I'm shite (sorry Dad) at socializing.

Hello. My name is Opal Minerva-Ambrose, or just Opal, for short. I'm eleven years old, my birthday is in December, and I have two parents who are so obsessed with how the image of their relationship will look to the outside media they're too scared to be truthful to anyone else but their most trusted peers, being myself and my dad's mentor, who happens to be my teacher and the woman I'm named after.

I mean, they are both Gym Leaders and they aren't in a stereotypical relationship, so perhaps they have a point. What I mean by that is they're gay, but don't tell anyone I told you.

(Oh, who am I kidding? You can't speak. You're an inanimate object! Maybe my parents are right. I should go outside more often.)

Either way, I'm getting off topic. Again. I've been homeschooled my entire life by said mentor, whose name is also Opal. She's the nicest person I've ever met, but that's not really saying much, considering my friend count is limited to her, the little kids I babysit from time to time, and my parents.

I'd like to think I'm rather clever. Miss Opal likes to quiz me about a lot of random things, like Fairy types and kinds of tea, and play scrabble—I once got an A+ in class for spelling "Impidimp" and earned 59 points. However, she's also a half-deaf 106 year old lady, so maybe I shouldn't be so proud.

That's part of the reason why my parents are sending me to regular school with other kids. They think that I'm smart enough to study with 'the best', and since my dad AND my father went to a Trainer's school (though Father's education is testy at best, despite my opinions of Mister Mustard), they think it'll be a good chance to branch out...which leads me to the second reason they're sending me to school.

I've self-diagnosed myself with social anxiety disorder. Although I haven't ever seen a real therapist (I'm too nervous to speak with one in person), I've read enough psychology papers and self-help blogs through the years to be aware of myself and how I react around others. I also know it's most likely brought on by my parent's sheltered behavior that's prevented me from being properly social with other people, and the fact that both of my parents are nervous when seen in public together.

I know people with social anxiety can be 'desensitized' with time, medication and regular visits with a therapist, but since my parents are so nervous about their relationship getting outed to the entire region, they decided a journal was the next best thing. In all honesty, sometimes I think they've developed social anxiety disorder just from being together.

"Opal?" my father's voice calls from downstairs. "Teleport down here; you'll be late for your first day of school!"
"Yes Father!" I called back, shutting my journal and throwing it into my school bag by my desk. Ponyta, my partner and personal support Pokemon for school, looked up at me with curious eyes, batting her long eyelashes. I rose from my desk chair, brushed the loose strands of my hair out of my face and walked downstairs, Ponyta trotting behind me.

"Good morning, Father," I smiled as he pecked my forehead.
"Good morning, Opal," he smiled back, Pokeballs bobbing around his head like an odd halo. "Avery, stop distracting her," my dad called from his office. "You're supposed to be on the way to work by now!"

"Your dad has been a tad bit stressed by the sudden Psycho Shift in our schedules," Father whispered in my ear. I giggled. "Perhaps he should try and use Calm Mind, then," I replied, and we both chuckled. Father's iconic puns had become a sort of an inside joke between us. "I can hear you, you know," my dad said exasperatedly, walking into the main room.

I've been told by Opal that I look like an equal mix of both of my parents; I suppose I should, considering I am their biological child. I have my father's straight hair texture, and his sapphire blue eyes. My dad's platinum blonde color, and his calculating mind.

Immediately, my father swooped down and pulled my dad in close. "Darling, you know I've reworked my schedule around Opal's first day at school," he said, brushing his curly locks out of his hair. "I'm not due at the Gym for an hour."
"Well I don't have that kind of luxury," my dad huffed in response, shrugging out of my father's grip. "Come on, say your goodbyes. We're leaving now."

I chuckled when Ponyta nosed against my dad's hand, and he softened, stroking her cotton-candy mane. His Hatterene—his partner since he was a young boy and his ace in the Ballonlea Gym—glided over to me and took my hand with her claw-like appendage. She cooed, eyes locked on my dad.

"Right," he cleared his throat, rising on the balls of his feet to kiss my father goodbye before taking my hand from his partner Pokemon. "Hatterene, return," he commanded, putting her back in her Great Ball. I ran back to give my father one last hug goodbye, before turning and running back to my dad.

*********

My hands shook as I walked down the hall to my classroom. My dad had walked me a block away from Wyndon Academy for Young Trainers, where we had to separate to avoid the constant halo of paparazzi searching for quick pictures of celebrity children. The sight of the crowd alone almost had me keeling over and fainting, but I somehow (miraculously) slipped through unnoticed. Probably because I wasn't accompanied by the second-most notorious man in Galar as he walked me to class.

Ponyta clip-clopped alongside me, looking up ever so often to give a reassuring look or nuzzle my palm. I forced myself to smile down at her. She was only trying to help, after all; it wasn't her fault I couldn't calm myself when my social execution was only a small walk away. Slowly, I stopped outside the door to my classroom. The wooden door was menacing, tall and imposing with a small foggy window that allowed me a peek into the classroom, silhouettes moving about inside.

I knew I looked alright; I'd chosen a fairly pink ensemble (in the metaphorical way, though also quite literal) that Opal had deemed "Smashing, my dear". My pink-framed glasses were clear, my hair was neatly straightened and fell down my back in a waterfall, and the little golden Fairy symbol hanging on a chain around my neck was shining in the light of the hallway. And yet I couldn't help but worry about my appearance; as if the other kids could see right through me with a simple glance.

Are my glasses on right? They are, right? My hair, why does my hair feel like that, that doesn't feel right. Don't slouch, they'll think you're a pig. Am I sweating? Why am I sweating? I shouldn't be sweating, it's October. Ooh, my face is warm; oh I'm flushing. Is it obvious? Oh, they'll think I'm sick! Why am I so sweaty?! What an idiot, showing up sick the first day!

Before I could opt to pull a page from my father's script and Teleport away, the door swung open to reveal who I assumed was my teacher. She was a nice-looking lady; about thirty years of age, with honey-blonde hair and brown eyes. She wore white jeans with a leather belt, a black and white striped shirt and sandals.

A smiling Alcremie sat on the desk behind her, and a female Indeedee cooed at me from beside her trainer. Instantly, I relaxed; Fairy and Psychic type Pokemon always put me at ease. Probably because both my parents specialized in them.

"It's Opal, right?" the teacher asked with a smile. "The late transfer?"
"Yes," I said, amazed I didn't stutter. I counted it as a small victory before I stepped through the door and immediately felt sick. Instantly, the eyes of twenty other people my age were on me.

There were all sorts of people there. There was a girl with dark skin and sapphire hair, letting it curl into mermaid waves. She dressed like twice her age, with double piercings in her ears, eyeshadow and mascara, and wore a lime cropped shrug over a blue tube top with navy jeans and matching green sneakers.

Another girl with brown skin and dark hair in a twist was sitting in the front row. She was dressed like a designer model, her white dress expensive-looking with a black leather handbag hanging over the back of her chair. She smiled at me. I tried my best to swallow the bile in my throat. A snort from the middle row had me looking up suddenly, panic spiking.

It came from a short girl with black and white hair that looked almost gray the way it blended together. She wore stylish clothes, similar to the first girl; a black top with a no-shoulder sweater and white skirt. It took a moment, but I soon realized she wasn't laughing at me. She was laughing at someone sitting a couple chairs across from her; a girl with straight black hair and eyes, wearing an oversized charcoal sweater and bright magenta skirt.

They both turned to the teacher when she cleared her throat. "Sorry," they said in unison, their voices tinged with a strange accent I was unfamiliar with. "Iris. Larkspur. Will you please refrain from throwing crumpled balls of paper at each other?" the teacher asked, exasperated; apparently, this was a regular thing with the two. "We are trying to welcome a new student into class."

A sudden thud of a hand on wood made everyone jump. Instantly, all eyes turned to one girl sitting in the dead center desk. She was extremely eye-catching; snowy white skin and hair, wearing an all-black sweater, leggings, and gym shoes. She had gorgeous seafoam eyes that were staring in an almost disapproving glare at both girls sitting in front of her. Instantly, they settled back down and were silent.

"Thank you...Wisteria," the teacher said after a pause to the mysterious girl, who now had a name. "Now, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?" I swallowed as I realized she was talking to me again. Alarm bells sounded in my head, my mouth welded shut as twenty pairs of judgeful eyes looked at me expectantly. DON'T DO IT!!! My inner voice screamed. "Of course," I said out loud.

"I..." I trailed off, scanning the room. Nobody seemed to be disinterested; that was good. Why are they so interested in me? Is it my voice? Something's wrong, I— Ponyta's soft muzzle pressed against my trembling hands. I forced myself to focus on the texture, lacing my fingers in her curly mane.

"My name is Opal," I murmured. "I...I've lived in Ballonlea my entire life...I was homeschooled by my dad's mentor, and..andIdon'treallyliketalkingtopeople!" I rushed out before turning bright red. A couple of kids giggled quietly from somewhere in the sea of desks. I wished the floor would open up and swallow me.

"Alright, Opal, you'll be sitting between Iris and Larkspur," the teacher read off of a paper on her desk. "I'm sure you remember who they are." I nodded, not trusting my voice, quickly walking through the rows of students to sit by the duo. Immediately, I sat down and put my bag in my lap, Ponyta sitting dutifully at my side. The teacher started talking about typing differences; a familiar subject to me. Sighing, I leaned back and tried to relax, until—

"Oi!" a voice whispered from my right. I pretended not to hear it, trying to focus on the teacher projecting a diagram onto the board. "I know you heard me; we just wanna talk, that's all." Turning, I noticed it was the girl with silvery curls. "I'm Iris. Over there's my sister, Lark." I looked to the left and noticed the girl with straight hair waving at me. My throat felt swollen shut, unable to make a peep. I offered a small nod back before trying to focus on the lesson again.

"Want some advice fer makin' friends?" Larkspur whispered, and I tried in vain to block out her voice. "We can give ya the rundown on everyone here."
"Maybe....maybe after," I forced out after a few beats, petting Ponyta, who had curled up at my feet. Drat. Why can't I just learn to say no to people?!

*******

"Alright, so it's Opal, yea?" Iris asked the moment the bell rang for break. I froze; I didn't think they would remember me. What did I do? "Y-yes," I said, gathering my stuff slowly and putting it in my bag. "Okay," Larkspur chimed in, draping herself over the back of my chair as I stood up quickly. "So, me an' Iris an' Wisteria are all triplets—"

"Triplets?!" I exclaimed in surprise, immediately turning red with embarrassment as I drew a few stares. Why, WHY did I say that out loud?!
"Yea, that's right," Iris said, carrying on without a care in the world, herding me out into the hallway as she spoke. "We get it a lot. Wisteria's a bit of a lone wolf, an' she don't talk much, so don't expect her t' be all buddy-buddy, 'kay?"

"That's there's Thorne," Larkspur pointed to the stylish girl who was talking with the blue-haired twin with the piercings. "The Chairman's daughter, though better known as the Thorny Pain In The A—"
"She's a witch," Iris cut her off as we entered the yard.. "Best stay away from her."

"Who...who was she...?" I asked quietly, trying to subtly gesture in the direction of the two.
"Oh, her?" Lark looked where I was pointing. "Hydrangea Rurina-Kibana; she's Thorne's best friend. Her sister's inta basketball more than battlin'; 's why she's in a different school. Mum an' dad were a brief fling an' had twins 'fore callin' it off. They live part-time in Hammerlocke an' part-time in Hulbury."

The two pointed out multiple other kids—a boy with hair in the shape of a pistol pointed at the sky, many younger children playing in a sandbox in the yard over, and an older girl with blonde hair and green eyes with a resting poker face talking to a teacher in the yard. Maybe regular school isn't going to be so bad after all, I thought, smiling as I noticed more kids walking around the yard.

"Think fast!"
"Huh-? H-hey!" The boy with the hair shaped like a weapon had snatched my glasses from behind me, and I glared in his general direction. Without them, everything was a haze of multicolored blobs that were starting to gather in a crowd around us. Drat, drat, drat! We'll never get them back now.

"Oi! Give 'em back, Gunhead!" Lark yelled at the boy, who now was an emerald green blob with a hazy grayish-blonde spire on top of his head. "It's Gunther!" he shouted, prepubescent voice tinged with a haughty air. "And why should a celebrity such as I obey orders from the common riff-raff like you?" Iris snorted.
"Because if ya don't, we'll make ya," she grinned, and with a flash two Pokemon were released.

"What, too shy to come and take them back yourself, Olive?" Gunther cooed, before laughing maliciously. "I-it's...it's Opal," I whispered, and he laughed harder. The rest of the crowd started to chuckle along with him. I squeezed my eyes shut as Ponyta nuzzled against my legs. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, I repeated as tears threatened to spill. Then, I remembered something Opal Sr. had said once.

"When one is severely lacking in pink, sometimes it is necessary to force it onto that person," Opal said, sipping her tea as I told a story about a snotty little brat I'd just finished babysitting. "And in rare cases, it must occasionally be beaten in."

If my standing on her meaning of the word 'pink' was correct, it meant that if I wanted my glasses back, I'd have to take them myself. This will not end well, my brain cheered. You'll make a fool of yourself and everyone around you!

Slowly, I closed my eyes and concentrated. I focused on the shape of my glasses, and Gunther's body, feeling around with my mind. Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought hard, until I heard a shriek of fear. Opening my eyes, Gunther had been lifted off of the ground and was now sitting very undignified in a basketball hoop on the court a few yards away. Oops.

Now look at what you did. I could hear Father's reprimand already. Psychic powers won't solve your problems, it just makes them worse! Now you're the center of attention! All of these overlapped as my glasses floated over to me. I brushed them off before placing them back on my face, meeting the stunned and curious gazes of multiple grades of students.

"Bloody hell," Larkspur gaped, a now in-focus purple Ekans tangled around her neck. "That's amazin'!"
"Ya can move things with yer mind?!" Iris asked, pressing close to my face.
"A-a-among other things," I said, starting to smile at their excitement.

"Hi! I don't think we've officially met," Thorne shoved her way through the crowd gathering closer to shake my hand with both of hers. "I'm Thorne Rose; Chairman Rose's daughter."
"Ex-Chairman," I heard someone call from behind her.
"Ah, yes, I've—I've heard of you," I said, laughing nervously.

"Wonderful! This is Hydrangea." She gestured to the twin smiling at me. "We would just love it if you could sit with us at lunch later today—"
"Nuh-uh!" A random kid shouted, grabbing my arm. "She's sitting with us!"
"Why can't she sit with me?!"

"Hey! Can you make other things move too?!"
"Can you read my mind?!"
"What am I thinking riiiiight...now?!"
"Hey, move out of the way, I was here first!"

People were closing in all around me, their voices blending into a cacophony of noise as my breathing grew shallower and my vision blurred. Fear flooded my veins, and I quickly looked around for an exit. All I could see no matter where I turned was the eager, greedy faces of other kids my age. Hugging myself tight, I felt a familiar spring coil in my gut as I shrunk in on myself and teleported away.

My lineage from my father's side was infamous around Galar. The Minerva House was full of psychics, from common telepathy to mind reading and even predicting the future. Teleportation was also a common gift within my father's bloodline, though it seemed to have skipped his generation. Unfortunately, it did not skip mine.

My atoms reassembled somewhere up high and open; there was a cool breeze blowing and the clouds were cotton balls floating in the sky. For a split second, I thought I was safe and sighed with relief; my random teleporting episodes were few and far between, but almost always put me in an unideal location. Then I looked to my left and screamed.

The Yamask flew backwards, floating away as fast as it could go and hiding behind Wisteria. A super-sized Gourgeist floated around her head, hair-like appendages fluffing and playing with the snowy locks. A strange Pokemon I'd never seen before in Galar hovered upside-down in front of my face, while a Mimikyu slowly inched its way towards my feet.

Wisteria gave me an empty-eyed stare and I froze. All the Ghost-types looked at me in confusion. "S-s-s-stay awa-away," I stuttered, scrambling backwards. The lone Pokeball in the bag still looped around my shoulder burst open, revealing Morelull, who glowed in concern when he saw the fear on my face. The Mimikyu gathered itself up, but with a clearing of Wisteria's throat it retreated and slunk back over to her side.

"A-are...are all these Pokemon...yours?" I asked after a moment, gathering Morelull in my arms and petting over him to calm him down. Wisteria raised her hands and I flinched, before she dropped them and looked down. Then, I remembered what her sisters had said. She doesn't speak. Of course; I'm such an idiot, I thought to myself as Morelull slowly relaxed and eyed the Ghosts with curiosity.

After a moment, a shy finger tapped me on the shoulder. Looking up suddenly, Wisteria was sitting very close to me, ghosts waiting on the side further from me. Her face was hopeful, pastel cyan eyes glowing nervously as she very carefully and slowly signed, Do you speak sign language?

I was frozen in surprise, and I suppose Wisteria took it for not understanding. She sighed, turning away. Frantically, I gestured for her to wait and signed back with shaking hands. Yes. I speak sign language. Wisteria's eyes lit up, and her jaw went slack for a moment, before recomposing herself and signing in a much blockier way than before; How did you learn?

My former teacher is a very old woman, I explained. She's been mostly deaf since before I was born. I learned it from a young age. How did you learn?

My mother, Wisteria replied with a slowly increasing smile. She had a very nice smile; not a lot of teeth, and quite small, but still lovely all the same. She had an accident where she couldn't speak for a long time. Her friends and family learned it to speak with her. They all learned it from a friend who was deaf. My sisters and dad know it too.

Did you have an...accident too, or do you choose not to speak?
I have A-P-R-A-X-I-A. I have trouble controlling the muscles in my face and making movements. It's why my signs are funny.

I chuckled, smiling as Yamask curiously peeked around from Wisteria's bent legs to look at me. I slowly offered a hand, and he quickly rushed past it to hide in my jacket. I flinched as the cold stone of its rune pressed against my thin shirt, making me shiver slightly. Its body itself was of a quality I couldn't quite name; squishy and fluid, like shadows and ghosts were often depicted to be, but surprisingly warm, and a pleasant sensation to counteract the cold stone Yamask clung to.

He likes you, Wisteria signed, smiling as its little head peeked out from my jacket. Are these Pokemon yours? I asked again.
Yes and no. I haven't caught them yet. I plan to when S-H-U-P-P-E-T gets stronger; he's from our semester project. I want to have a proper battle when I catch them.

They must like you a lot to hang around if they're wild.
Yes. I've had that effect on most G-H-O-S-T-S I meet. They're the one type who don't seem naturally repelled by me.

I leaned back on my palms and sighed contentedly, looking up at the clear sky. Why don't you talk out loud to me? Wisteria signed after getting my attention again.
I get very anxious, I confessed. I stutter and lose my confidence. I feel like I can't speak at all. I can't talk to my neighbors without feeling scared.

Why are you scared?
It's an I-R-R-A-T-I-O-N-A-L fear. I get anxious that people will judge me.
You don't have to feel scared around me.

I smiled, shuffling closer to Wisteria as Gourgeist took notice that I would be staying for a while, and started to play with my hair too. She smiled back, offering her hand out. Let's be friends. Okay?

"O-okay!" I responded eagerly out loud, startling a couple ghosts hanging close to my face. After quickly apologizing to the traumatized Pokemon cowering behind Wisteria's knees (who I learned was called a Shuppet), I took her hand and shook it gently.

Maybe sending me to public school was a good decision after all.