Chapter 11 - The Hat

  You know the drill. I wake up, I get confused, and I go on with my day.

  Today, I'm a little more confused than usual. What was with that remote? Was that some sort of symbolism I'm too stupid to understand? Probably; dreams are all about symbolism.

  Also, I'm a little surprised, if also a little relieved, that we weren't harassed by any ghosts through the night. Maybe I have a guardian angel, and maybe her name is Delia? I'm not exactly sure where that name came from, but it feels right. Anyway, guardian angel or not, I would rather not spend another second in this place.

  I unzip my tent to find that Stella is already awake, cooking something in a small crockpot that I guess she had this whole time?

  "You snore," she says.

  That's a horrifying realization, "My bad."

  "Mmh." She grunts.

  I walk up to the small cooker that I assume is being powered by batteries.

  "What are you making?" I ask.

  "It's a thing of instant ramen I stole from my parents before I left, but," she looks at the crock pot, "I don't think I'm doing it right."

  "Food is food." I shrug, although that is definitely a philosophy I have not been living by. I'm probably the pickiest eater I know, besides maybe Rocky.

  "I guess," she says.

  "Where's Scorbunny?" I ask.

  "In his ball." I guess that doesn't need any elaboration.

  "And Rookidee?"

  "She's... somewhere." She says.

  "You don't know where your own Pokémon is?" I tease.

  "No, but at least mine can be out of their ball without throwing a fit." She says, "She knows how to find us; she'll be back."

  Well, that was a little mean. Agent can't help being a scaredy-cat; it's literally in his DNA.

  "Touché." I say, "Now, when are we getting out of here?"

  "When this thing finishes cooking." She says.

  "Can I have some—"

  "No."

  Damn.

  ---

  I don't want to talk about Stella's soup. And I really don't want to talk about the events that transpired during its creation. All you need to know is that my pants are very wet, and while it felt hot at the time, I am now very cold, and she is very hungry.

  "You are an idiot." She says as we approach the Giant Watchtower besides the next and final outpost.

  "I don't want to talk about it." I say, "I just want to get to the outpost so I can change."

  She laughs, "Yeah, I would too."

  I hate her.

  The gloomy skies and rain clouds are ever so present as we reach the outpost. I want to check out the Giant Watchtower before leaving for Motostoke, but I guess I'll have to postpone that until I can get this pants situation figured out. Stella is probably going to disappear for, like, an hour while she eats and does whatever the hell it is she does at these places.

  "Meet at the exit in an hour, got it?" She asks.

  "Got it, goodbye." I guess now I'm the cranky one.

  Rocky thinks that what happened is the funniest thing ever and is upset that he didn't get to witness it himself. Thank Arceus, the last thing he needs is more ammunition to make fun of me. Agent is just glad to be out of the ruins, but he's still scared of the Watchtower.

  I grab a room at the Budew Drop Inn because there's no way I'm changing in a public bathroom. I only brought one change of clothes, and I already changed once after we reached the end of the Rolling Fields and I showered. Here's one thing about being a trainer: it's very unsanitary. I guess it's part of the experience or whatever, but not showering for days on end doesn't feel very fun. I honestly like these pants more, and really, who's going to notice that they haven't been washed in days? No one here, probably.

  I give the lady at the front desk the keys to the room. She seems confused as to why I checked out a room to only use it for less than thirty minutes. I offer no explanation.

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  Like a ritual, the next thing I do is get some food from the Pokémon Center Cafeteria. I am getting sick of breakfast burritos; do they ever serve anything else? Not for humans, at least; the Pokémon food they're serving has changed. Now it's some sort of mix of kibble instead of the slop they were serving at the end of the Dappled Grove. And the best part? It's Rocky approved, so my breakfast burrito is all mine this time. Hurray!

  ...

  Man, all I want is to reach civilization. I'm sick of sleeping in a tent; I'm sick of this god-awful weather. I thought I was overdue for some good luck four days ago. If that's true, then I am way overdue now. Any day now, something good will happen.

  ----

  She didn't like eating inside of the Pokémon Center cafeteria; it was almost as bland and unappealing as the food. Unfortunately, the one piece of 'good' food that she had was now spilled all over the Watchtower ruins, so she would have to settle for yet another breakfast burrito. She would have to do it quickly before Bell showed up here as well; running into him before leaving would be weird and awkward. She spotted a familiar purple-haired nuisance in line for food as well; he really did look just like his brother. He had his Grookey and Munchlax out of their balls. She recalled Scorbunny, as he would probably be excited to see his friend, and the last thing she wanted to do was talk to him. She wondered if Bell's Sobble was also friends with the monkey.

  She waited outside the cafeteria with her hood up and her hands in her pockets until she saw him exit, and she could finally enter without a problem. She made her way up to a hill away from the outpost to eat, even if it was just a burrito. She refused to sit down near any of those other trainers.

  The burrito was as bland as always, but at least they changed the Pokémon food menu. Rookidee and Scorbunny seemed to enjoy it, although the latter would eat anything if he was told it was 'filled with nutrients and vitamins.' Which it most certainly wasn't. One bottle of vitamins would probably cost her more money than she had ever had in her life. She remembered seeing somewhere that the price of vitamins was increasing by 5% every year. If it kept up at that rate, they'd be unavailable to your average trainer in a few years. Hell, they were already out of most trainers budgets.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

  "Ugh," she muttered.

  Close to any outpost in the wild area, there was actually service. She had purposely been avoiding checking her phone, but there was no point in that now. Her phone woke itself up as she raised it. She had expected a few missed calls and messages, but not on this scale.

  "Fourteen?" She scrolled through her notifications. Fourteen missed calls from her father, none from her mother.

  Typical.

  It would soon be fifteen missed calls if she decided to ignore the big green button in front of her father's picture. It was a picture of him from an old family photo.

  She really did not want to talk to him, but… all he wanted to know was that she was safe. She could at least give him that.

  She recalled her Scorbunny and Rookidee. Her finger hovered above the answer button for a few seconds before she pressed it.

  "Dad?"

  "Stella?" He sounded surprised, like he hadn't expected her to actually answer.

  "That's me."

  "Goodness, I was so—hold on, honey, one second." She could hear him scrambling to do something. She couldn't tell exactly what, but she could make out a voice in the background followed by the sound of a door creaking shut.

  "As I was saying, why... why haven't you been answering my calls?" He asked.

  Her eyes reflexively rolled. "There isn't any service out here; I told you that."

  "Ah... yes, you did."

  Had he really forgotten? Or was he just hoping for some sort of miracle?

  She pulled her hat on tighter and spoke after a moment of silence, "Did you need something?"

  "I just wanted to know that my baby was okay; is that so wrong?"

  If only you showed this kind of concern five years ago, is what she wanted to say. But she didn't; it would be needless salt in an already gaping wound that would probably never close. Plus, what happened was as much her fault as it was his.

  "No." She said, "How's Mom?"

  He hesitated, "She's... okay. You know her. She's still angry that you left, but I think she's coming around."

  "I doubt it." Although she couldn't exactly blame her for being upset.

  Her mother was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them, and they both knew all too well that history repeats itself.

  "You're always so pessimistic." He said, though she couldn't tell how he meant it, "I think you get it from her."

  "Probably."

  And then there was silence. Awkward silence. She wasn't sure how he expected this conversation to go; it was probably the longest talk they had had in months, maybe years.

  And then he spoke up, "There was another reason, you know, that I called you."

  Well, it was only a matter of time. She knew what that reason was: "The hat."

  "The hat." He confirmed, "You—you shouldn't have taken it with you."

  "And why not?" She asked, "I made it."

  Her father sighed, "Yes, but—it wasn't yours."

  "It is now."

  "Stella, that hat is the only thing we have left—"

  "Just stop." She cut him off, "Stop talking; I took the hat, and that's that. You want to remember? Take your own advice; the cemetery is right there."

  "Stella—"

  "I'll text you when I make it to Motostoke; don't call me again."

  Her fingers tensed up as she hung up and calmly placed the phone back in her pocket. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  It wasn't enough.

  She ripped the old tam o' shanter from her head and screamed into it as loud as she could until her face was red; it still smelled like him.

  She felt the round ball inside of the hat press against her face. Her parents had no idea it was in there, and there was absolutely no way she would tell them about it, ever. She wasn't even sure she could ever bring herself to open it either; there was a reason she sewed it together after it all happened. It was cruel, she knew, keeping that small bug trapped inside a Pokéball because she couldn't bring herself to face the consequences of her actions.

  She let her tears soak the fluffy interior of the hat.

  "Oh." She sobbed, "How the fuck am I supposed to do this?"

  ---

  I wouldn't consider myself materialistic yet, but there is one thing I want more than anything else right now. And that thing is a watch.

  I thought my internal clock was pretty good, better than average even. So, after getting distracted by the TV in the cafeteria for an unspecified amount of time, I decided that enough time had passed, and it was time to meet Stella.

  But I have now been waiting for a long time; I would give you an estimate, but I don't trust my sense of time anymore. So either she's very late, or I suck at telling time. I guess I'll have to wait for her to show up to get an answer. Thankfully, I don't have to wait very long before she shows up with glasses on. Honestly, I totally forgot that she wears those things. The only time I can remember her using them is way back when I first met her and she was examining my Wishing Star.

  "You waited."

  Oh, how the tables have rotated.

  "I did." I say, "I don't exactly know where I'm going without you."

  "Hm." Her eyes are red. Allergies, maybe?