Blue, Red, and Freddy (part 2)
or, In the Twilight of Arcadia
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (Read this how it was meant to be read here, or on the substack mirror.)
5, Carter’s House
The next morning, after Susu had woken up, had her breakfast, made my chocolate milk, and started using the sewing machine in the garage, I stumbled out of the spare bedroom in nothing but my underwear and made my way to Susu’s room. Freddy followed along. I needed to watch my Blue’s Clues and Little Bear, and Susu’s TV was the only one that got cable. I could hear the rhythmic clacking of her sewing machine, muffled in the garage, throughout the house. Sometimes she would spend hours in there making these little cloth pockets with flowery designs painted on them, about the size of an envelope, with magnets sewn into the back so they could stick to a refrigerator and hold things like notes and pens and other knick-knacks. She made a little money selling them at the market downtown. Everyone in the family had one.
I was sitting up against the bed’s headboard, in Susu’s normal spot, closest to the TV, with pillows wedged behind my back, sucking chocolate milk through the straw of a white Power Rangers cup. Freddy wasn’t allowed on the bed, so he was lying on the thin rug in the space between the bed and the dresser, upon which sat the TV set, humming the soft orchestral theme of Little Bear, its quiet horns and strings perfectly accenting the innocent countryside adventures of the titular Little Bear himself. I figured that none of the other kids my age watched Little Bear, and I figured they definitely didn’t watch Blue’s Clues, since both were shows aimed at much younger kids, and I was so aware of that fact that I even went to great lengths to hide it, which is why I scrambled for the remote the moment I heard the door burst open, which caused Freddy to jump to his feet and bark like crazy until he realized who it was.
It was Red. He was standing there, in the doorway, looking right at me with that confident smile of his. He was wearing these ridiculously baggy pants that didn’t fit him at all, either physically or mentally. They were called FUBU pants or something. He was always going on about these pants, but I was in no position to crack a joke about them, because I had pulled the sheets over myself, slightly covering my face, which caused the TV remote to fall to the floor, which meant that Little Bear continued to play, which meant the jig was up, and I was a little embarrassed about the whole thing. I remember the episode was titled “Little Bear's Bad Day.”
“Oh, hey,” I said, kinda taken aback.
“Door was unlocked,” he said, then he turned to the TV, “Are you watching Little Bear?”
I started to answer but was stuttering a little bit.
“I never got into it. That’s why I came over. I find something else to do after Blue’s Clues. I love Blue’s Clues. Don’t tell anyone.”
All I could muster was an “Oh,” followed by a smile at the realization that I wasn’t the only one. It amazed me how Red always took ownership of the things he liked, he was never embarrassed about anything, that was something I always admired about him.
Red hopped on the huge bed and sat, legs dangling over the edge. We watched Little Bear together for a moment. Mother Bear was tweezing a thorn out of Little Bear’s butt. It was a strange scene. We both laughed. Then it cut to commercial break.
“I told Carter I’d go fishing with him today,” Red said, unenthusiastically.
“Why’d you do that?” I said, a little muffled because the sheets were still pulled close to my face.
“I don’t know,” he said, then nervously added, “Can you come with me?”
At first, I didn’t know how to respond. Carter freaked me out. He was two years older than us, and he was quiet, in a spooky way, and the way he looked at me sent the worst kind of shivers down my spine. And even though his house was literally right across the street from mine, his parents never let us in, so we had no idea what was going on in there, only that his garage was always open, full of random junk, but his doors were always locked. I felt as if something weird was locked behind them. He had like a hundred sisters, all redheads, pale, with freckles, and it was almost like new ones kept popping up every other day. We had this running joke that they were multiplying like those single-celled organisms or whatever. Carter was the only boy in the family. The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want to hang out with him. But then I remembered that he played Pokemon, at least he did at the beginning of the summer. He had a good team, too. The last time I played against him, he beat me pretty bad, and I was still kind of burned by that. The very thought reignited the fire inside. I suddenly needed a rematch. I had raised Kiki for that very purpose. I had to beat him. I had to be the very best, like no one ever was.
“He still play Pokemon?” I said
Red shrugged. “You ask him.”
“I gotta get dressed,” I said, a little defensively.
Ten minutes later, we were outside, shaded by the little overhang above Susu’s front door. Freddy was there too. He didn’t need a leash because he always stuck by my side. Some Pidgeotto zipped by overhead, followed by a few Pidgey struggling to keep up, and Freddy was tracking them in place, his nose all skyward.
I was wearing this baggy blue short-sleeve and big jeans, even though it was hot as hell out. I was trying to hide my chubbiness under big clothes, like I always did, because back then I always felt like people were looking at me, judging me, even when no one really was. And I didn’t like how shorts looked on me because my legs were super pale. Susu always said my legs would stay pale unless I wore shorts, but I didn’t like how they looked, partially because my legs were super pale, so it was kind of like a no-win situation.
The heat didn’t normally bother me much, but this day was different. It had rained the night before, and the heat index was like a million degrees or something, so it felt like the worst kind of sauna in the world outside, so I immediately started complaining the moment we stepped out of the shade.
“I don’t think today is a good day for fishing,” I said, but Red ignored me.
Carter’s big two-story house was right there across the street, garage wide open, two huge pickup trucks parked on his sloped driveway. There was a massive mossy oak in the backyard that shaded the entire house and gave it a haunted-house vibe. I imagined the place like some sort of final boss castle in a video game. Red and I had preferred to knock on the door inside his garage to get Carter to come outside, so in the blazing heat, sweating profusely, we made our way across the street and up Carter’s steep driveway, into his garage. But before entering the garage, I patted Freddy on the head and told him to stay outside until we were back. Freddy looked me in the eye, then he walked up to a little shrub near the garage entrance and lifted his leg, showering the prickly bush as if he didn’t respect the place at all. Red and I thought that was pretty funny.
We then had to navigate a little maze of rusty yard tools, and barrels of old fishing poles, and a rack of spears, one missing, and two different lawn mowers, and boxes labeled with duct tape and sharpie, and some gardening equipment, and a big couch with a small table in front of it, upon which was a full ashtray with like twelve empty packs of cigarettes around it, and there were deer antlers mounted on the walls, and a collection of old-looking rifles, and a huge Confederate flag, and then more rifles, and there were a bunch of framed Army medals all over the place, and there was even a small boat hanging from the ceiling in the corner. I nearly tripped over an old hose that was stretched across the floor like a tripwire. Red had to grab me by the waist to save me from cracking my head open.
As we approached the big metal door to the interior of the house, Red looked at me and said, “You knock,” but I shook my head and said, “I’m not doing it, you do it,” and then he shook his head and said, “No way, you do it,” and then, looking back at the open entrance of the garage, I saw Freddy sitting there, looking like the most regal Pokemon ever, with his long golden fur and confident stare, which in turn filled me with confidence, so I said, “Fine.”
I lifted my hand to knock, but before I could, the door creaked open just a little bit, and I saw, in the crack, a line of eyeballs from top to bottom, some green, some brown, some hazel and blue, some obscured by bright red hair. It was the sisters, and due to the age and height differences, it looked as if their heads were stacked atop each other, their eyes all blinking out from the little crack in the door.
“Yes?” they said simultaneously. It was almost spooky.
“Uh, is Carter here?” I said, trying not to stutter.
“He’s out back,” the girls said curtly, and simultaneously, then they slammed the door.
Red and I shared an incredulous look, then we both shrugged and made our way back through the maze, out of the garage, where Freddy was waiting for us, his tongue hanging out all thirsty.
As we walked around the side of the house, through Carter’s yard, somewhat shaded by the dense canopy of moss and leaves from the huge oak overhead, the grass was all mushy from the rain the night before, and it felt like the water was evaporating in real time, enveloping us in a swamp-like mist, and there were little gnats all over the place too, but at least, shaded by the mossy oak, we weren’t getting blasted directly by the sun’s rays. I figured, at this point, complaining about the heat wasn’t going to solve anything, so I just kept walking, Red in front of me. We were almost at the turn into the backyard when I saw something strange.
When I looked back at Freddy, to make sure he was still there, I noticed something right by his paws, little wooden stakes poking out of the ground. I stopped and signaled to Red, then I crouched down near one of the stakes.
There was a whole row of them, like a path almost, leading from the side of the house to the backyard. The stakes were a little larger than toothpicks, stuck into the ground, and impaled upon them were the bodies of bugs. I couldn’t see them as Pokemon for some reason. The first stake I saw was spiked through the torso of a cricket, some brownish juice dripping down the wood, the insect’s legs still twitching. Something inside me turned. The second stake skewered the wings of a butterfly, its body locked in agony, like it had been trying to fly away but couldn’t.
Red too was crouching down near one of the stakes, which had a cicada impaled upon it, and when he went to touch it, it started buzzing real loud, as if it were screaming for death, which spooked Freddy, who started barking, which must have alerted Carter, because there he was all of a sudden, standing by the turn to the backyard, just a few feet away from us, darkly shaded by the massive oak. A chill breeze blew through. The death buzzing stopped. I could only hear the whistle of the wind.
“I call it death row.”
Carter’s voice was quiet but somehow totally audible, snake-like but cracking a bit in his puberty. He wore a loose camo shirt, woodland style, with matching pants, and a squared-off hunting cap with a short bill, also camo. No hair poked out. There were patches of acne on his gaunt, skeletal face, and his brow was so pronounced that it shaded his dark, sunken eyes. He was pretty tall for his age. And, with both hands, he was holding a lever-action BB gun that looked like a real rifle.
I felt something like fear bubbling up, but then I saw a Spearow dart through the canopy overhead, which reminded me of Pokemon, which made me feel a little better, but my eyes were still kind of shaky, on account of all the dead bugs, which I couldn’t imagine as Pokemon for some reason. Red, on the other hand, looked as confident as ever. And Freddy, well, he was in front of us, growling at Carter, because he wasn’t afraid of anything, or so I thought at the time.
“Whose dog?” Carter said, pointing the rifle at Freddy.
The sight of the rifle pointed at Freddy erased all my fear for a moment. I didn’t even think twice when I jumped forward. “That’s Freddy,” I said, voice raised. “Don’t point that at him.” And I must have sounded pretty stern because Carter lowered the rifle with a shrug and said, “Alright, alright.” Then he turned and started toward the backyard. Red and I exchanged concerned glances. “Come on back,” Carter called, vanishing behind the back of the house. Freddy had stopped growling, but he was looking more heated than ever, his golden hair like fire in the shady summer breeze.
When I turned the corner into the backyard, I first noticed one of Carter’s older sisters, sitting on a stump in the shade of the oak, cigarette between two fingers, she was thick but not fat, strong almost, bright orange hair, and her brilliant green eyes were watching as another boy was swinging a real spear around while making dumb action-movie sound effects with his mouth. They were both near a small table upon which sat three dented-up soda cans. The boy was Philip. He hadn’t noticed me yet. There was also a rusty kennel pushed up against the back of the house, and when Freddy saw that, he growled real low, but I could barely hear him over Philip’s dumb sound effects.
I turned to Red, annoyed look on my face, “You didn’t say Philip was coming.”
Red blinked and shrugged his shoulders.
I tried to turn my back a little bit, so Philip couldn’t see my face, but I was too slow, because in an instant I heard my name, real loud, then he rushed toward me with that spear in hand, lurching at me a bit. “Snitch!” he shouted. But then Freddy jumped in front of me, snarling viciously, which freaked Philip out, causing him to fall down and drop the spear. I shouted Freddy’s name, which caused him to stop snarling, and then I bent down and pet him behind the ear, to calm him down a bit.
Philip was crab walking backwards, breathing loudly, “That dog is crazy.”
“You ran at me,” I said sharply.
Carter butted in, his tone cold, “That dog’s violent, needs to be on a leash.”
“You’re violent!” I shouted.
Then Red jumped in, “C’mon, aren’t we going fishing?”
Philip was back on his feet now. He drove the butt of the spear into the ground, holding the shaft with one hand. He used his other hand to wipe his gross, snotty nose. That’s when I noticed a smear of blood across his face. The spear must have nicked his hand when he fell.
“I’m not going fishing with no snitch,” Philip said. Then he must have noticed his hand bleeding, so he said, “He snitched on me and his dog made me bleed!”
“You made yourself bleed, idiot,” I snapped back.
Carter watched us, motionless, something about his posture unnerved me, like he was enjoying this but pretending not to, or something. Then I noticed Carter’s sister put her cigarette out in the grass and stand up from her stump. She walked up to Philip and grabbed his hand, examining the wound. “Calm down, it’s nothing, really,” she said, “I’ll get you a wrap.” And then she was gone.
Philip was starting to cool down. “Whatever, I just don’t want that dog near me,” he said, wiping his nose again. “Why’d you snitch anyway?”
Trying to think of a better reason than the truth, which was that I just didn’t like Philip very much, and not being one to shy away from exaggeration, I said, “You should have seen the guy. He wasn’t going to let me go unless I gave him a name or something. I thought he was going to kill me. I swear. I really did. He was crazy. And he was pinning me down.”
“But it wasn’t even me who threw it.” Philip was swinging the spear around again, acting all macho. “You’re lucky only my brother was home, ‘cause if Mom found out, then I’d really have to stab you.” And just as he finished saying that, he thrust the spear clumsily into the trunk of the mossy oak and left it there. “Wasn’t even me,” he mumbled with a lot of attitude, “was Gayvin.”
Red, perched on the edge of an old, moldy slide that was part of a rundown backyard playground, spoke up, annoyed. “Told you to stop calling him that.”
Then I said, “Couldn’t think of any other address, sorry.” But I wasn’t really sorry.
That’s when Carter’s sister appeared and wrapped up Philip’s hand, then she was gone again. Then there was a weird silence before a pop echoed nearby. It was Carter, he had his BB gun raised eye level, and he had just taken a shot at one of the soda cans. I watched him pump the lever and take another shot. Freddy was watching too, silent but alert. Then Philip pulled the spear out of the tree and started swinging it around again, making those dumb action-movie noises.
I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I called out to Carter, “Hey, you still play?”
Carter lowered the rifle and turned his head just so. “Play what?” he asked in that cold tone of his.
“Pokemon.”
“That kid’s game?” He pumped his rifle and took another shot, but it missed. “Haven’t played in a few weeks.” I noticed his hands trembling slightly, his face scrunched up like a contained explosion.
“I want a rematch.”
There was another pop, another miss, and his aim was even shakier now. There was something malevolent about the whole scene, so as I watched him, I started to imagine him as the rival character from Pokemon Crystal, Silver, who was pretty much just a huge dirtbag with no respect for anyone or anything.
There was yet another pop, followed by a metallic clang, then a fallen can.
Silver then spoke two words.
“Your funeral.”
6, Blue vs. Silver
Silver’s RAICHU, which had no nickname, only the default caps, came out of its Poke Ball crackling. Its orange, ponderous sprite looked menacing with its long, thunderous barb. It wore the most devious expression I’d ever seen, with a little grin full of human-like teeth and those big black eyes slanted the bad way. The mouse was malevolent, that’s for sure, and it looked like it wanted to kill my Pokemon, Scales, who was leading my team and, unfortunately, very weak to Electric-types. I was panicking a little bit, internally, to tell you the truth.
“Never seen you use Raichu before,” I mumbled, trying to keep cool. My face was buried in the Game Boy as I sat on one of those stumps near the derelict playset. Silver was sitting nearby, on his own stump, all link-cabled up to me. His link cable was really long, thankfully, so he was a good five feet away. Red, though, was standing right behind me, moving his head back and forth, trying to get a good view of the screen.
Silver looked up from his Game Boy, it was one of those slime green ones, which was quite dented up and dirty, and he said, with his signature coldness, “I use more than the same three Pokemon.” And Philip, who was standing behind Silver, opposite Red, chuckled some at this remark, as it was obviously a slight against me.
“I use my favorites, not just the most powerful,” I said with some snark, because I was kind of easily offended back then but didn’t like to show it. I guess Silver and I were similar in that way. Thankfully, Freddy was sitting right by my stump, watching the game intently like he was just one of the boys, and him being there calmed me down some and also filled me with all sorts of verve and gusto, so I just went for the riskiest opening gambit possible, figuring dogs’ luck was on my side.
So this is what I did. Knowing Silver’s personality, I assumed he had taught RAICHU Thunder, which was the most powerful Electric-type move in the game, but it also had a 70% accuracy rate, which, in Pokemon terms, might as well be a 20% accuracy rate. I also knew RAICHU was faster than Scales, meaning if I kept Scales in the fight and Thunder hit him, he would be defeated in one turn, putting me off to a very bad start, but I also didn’t have another Pokemon that could safely switch into Thunder without taking serious damage. Freddy could survive one blast of Thunder, but he certainly couldn’t survive two, and my third Pokemon would just faint outright from any Electric-type attack. So that’s why I decided to take a chance. I left Scales in and hoped for Thunder to miss. The ace up my sleeve was that Scales knew Earthquake, which was super effective against Electric-types, so if my assumption was correct and Thunder missed, then I would hit that malevolent mouse with a super effective Earthquake and be off to a good start.
So, I selected Earthquake and prayed. And my praying must have reached the right video game gods, because RAICHU immediately used Thunder, missed, and then took the full brunt of Earthquake, which left him in the red, beeping. I was beaming.
“Thunderbolt’s more reliable,” I said, then caught a quick glimpse of Silver to gauge his reaction, but he only made this little grunt, keeping his head down, deep in his Game Boy, sunken eyes wider than normal, and he was kind of trembly if you looked closely.
On the next turn, Thunder actually hit, and it took Scales down before I could get another Earthquake off. But that was okay, because RAICHU was in the red, about to faint, and the next Pokemon I planned to use was Freddy, who could finish RAICHU off with Extreme Speed.
As Freddy came out on the field, I patted him on the head, ruffling his golden fur. Then I selected my inputs and looked up at Silver, because the screen still said WAITING, which meant he hadn’t input his selection yet. But instead of seeing him head-down in the game, he was actually staring right at Freddy with this deadpan look on his face, his sunken eyes huge and monstrous, as if he were imagining using Thunder on Freddy for real. The stare was so malevolent that Freddy himself started with these low growls. Then, after a few seconds, I said, in this shaky tone, “uh, it’s your turn,” at which point I watched Silver slowly avert his gaze from Freddy to his Game Boy, and then he said something I’ll never forget.
He said, “That dog needs to be put down.”
I couldn’t tell if he was talking about Freddy the Arcanine or Freddy the dog sitting right next to me, but they were both the same in my mind, and the way he said it gave me a terrible chill. I shivered. I really did.
On the next turn, Freddy went first, with Extreme Speed, knocking out the last of RAICHU’s health, causing that poor rodent to faint right then and there. Then the screen said WAITING again as Silver was prompted to select his next Pokemon. I remember he was eerily silent at that point. I was watching him with that Blue smirk on my face, really feeling like the very best, like no one ever was, so I said, “Extreme Speed always goes first,” as if I were giving helpful advice, but really just rubbing it in.
And I must have rubbed it in good, because Silver lifted his gaze, all slow and silent like, as if he were trying to intimidate me while simultaneously trying to appear cool and collected, but something about his pupils, and his slight tremble, and his nostrils, dilating, gave him away, there was a rage boiling underneath, it was obvious. I could see, just beyond his eyes, something crazy, but also something like despair, or both mixed together. I don’t know. But, at the time, it made me feel kinda good, because it meant that I was getting to him, which meant that I was winning. We both just sat there looking at each other for some time, like two sides of the same coin, me all smirky, him all full of malice. The battle music repeated that anxious, high-energy barrage of MIDI piano solos. And Freddy was no longer growling, instead just shifting his snout back and forth between Silver and me, as if taking measure of us both. Philip and Red seemed to be staring at each other too, as if the weird energy had taken over everyone in the vicinity. Then Silver broke the silence, deadpan, he said, “I know about Extreme Speed,” as if he had been thinking about what to say this whole time. I nodded slightly, my smirk a little more incredulous now because I was starting to think that maybe he didn’t actually know about Extreme Speed, maybe he was lying, so that he didn’t have to admit that I knew more about Pokemon than him, even though he had called it a “kid’s game” earlier. Then I wiped my brow, which was beaded with sweat despite my being in the shade of the massive oak. And I could tell that Silver’s malice was fading a little, from the look in his eyes, but he was still staring straight at me, and then, before things could get any weirder, Philip shouted, “C’MON, GO ALREADY,” and that’s when Silver craned his head back into his Game Boy and started pushing away at the buttons.
His next Pokemon was Alakazam. No nickname, just ALAKAZAM. A human-like Pokemon, thin and angular, yellow-skinned, kind of like Silver himself, only Alakazam had this epic Fu Manchu mustache and held these crazy spoons. Obviously a Psychic-type because he was freaking me out. The last time we battled, this same Alakazam defeated my entire team with the move Psychic. I was totally unprepared for it back then, and Silver clearly remembered this, because this time he broke his forced stoic posturing and was looking right at me with this little smirk I had never seen before, which was a tell, because even before I input my command, I knew, just by looking at him, that he had selected Psychic, and that he was expecting the same results as last time. “Your funeral,” he muttered. But I wasn’t afraid this time, because this time things were different.
I withdrew Freddy and out came Kiki, the Murkrow, a Flying-Dark-type, totally immune to Psychic-type attacks. And just as I had predicted, right on cue, ALAKAZAM used Psychic, but it had no effect on Kiki, who was just hovering there, on screen, all dark with her little witch’s hat. She was looking positively gloomy and cute as hell and, most importantly, totally unfazed.
Wanting to catch his reaction, I looked up quickly at Silver, who was staring very intently into his Game Boy, saying nothing, his sinister eyes much wider than before, which told me everything I needed to know. He had not expected this. I raised Kiki for exactly this moment, and he never expected it. And now, I knew he was planning to switch ALAKAZAM out with his last Pokemon, because he had no other choice.
So I quickly input my next attack, Pursuit, a Dark-type attack which does extra damage if the opposing Pokemon tries to switch out. And just as predicted, that’s exactly what Silver tried to do, he tried to switch ALAKAZAM out. But Kiki wasn’t having it. She swooped right into that ALAKAZAM for boosted super effective damage and just like that, ALAKAZAM was down.
It was now two to one. Advantage, Blue.
Red, whose head was right over my shoulder at this point, yelled one of those dumbfounded “WHAT”s real loud right into my ear, then started laughing as if he had just seen the most epic play of all time, and then he was clapping, repeating, “Oh man, oh man,” over and over again. Philip, on the flipside, unamused, bent into Silver’s ear, muttering, “You got this, you got this, it’s just a dumb bird, man.” And then Philip pointed at something on Silver’s screen, as if offering some sort of advice, but Silver, in a rare flare of emotion, jerked the Game Boy away and said, “I don’t need your help,” all quick and venomous.
Kiki was still hovering there, all dark and cute, and Freddy was right there by my side, and I was giving him some quick ear rubs, which he enjoyed very much. Then Silver’s third and final Pokemon showed up on screen.
It was Tyranitar, a Rock-Dark-type Pokemon. Default name, TYRANITAR. It looked like a camo-green Godzilla with a pupa for a torso, brow like a caveman, eyes full of fascism, spikes jutting out all over its back, and it had this thick, drill-like tail, which I imagined was for impaling opponents. It was all bent over with its little dinosaur arms outstretched, as if it were ready to slice me open before eating my flesh and sucking my bones dry. It looked like a right monster, it really did. And its cry rattled my entire Game Boy. The whole thing shook me a little bit. And when I looked at Silver, he was looking back at me, deadpan, but it was almost like I could see Tyranitar in his face, like he was a Tyranitar himself or something. I gulped. I really did.
But I was determined to defeat Silver, determined to formulate a battle plan, determined to win. The thing about Tyranitar was that it had nearly six type weaknesses due to its combination typing. But despite that, it was strong, physically, and it was a Rock-type, which was super effective against both Fire-types and Flying-types, which happened to be my two remaining Pokemon. I was at a big disadvantage. But Tyranitar was also slow, slower than both Kiki and Freddy, at least according to Prima’s Official Strategy Guide for Pokemon Crystal, and I had taught Freddy the attack Iron Tail, which was super effective against Rock-types, just for this sort of unfavorable situation, and, remembering that, I started to feel more confident, so I turned to Freddy and said, “Don’t worry, boy, we’ll be OK,” and then I gave him another scratch behind the ear, which he really liked, his tongue hanging out, because it was blazing hot out, and he must have been quite thirsty, like me, despite the shade of the massive oak we sat under, on which I noticed a family of Sentrets climbing up at that very moment.
Philip wiped his snotty nose, then shouted, “You’re done! Tyranitar owns all your Pokemon,” but Red spoke up on my behalf and said, “Don’t count him out yet, Blue’s smarter than he looks, you know.” And that made me smile a little bit, it really did.
The plan I had formulated required Kiki to take one for the team, which I wasn’t happy about, but I knew that in order to be the very best, the best there ever was, sacrifices had to be made. So I used Drill Peck, which was Kiki’s strongest attack. It wasn’t very effective against the kaiju tyrant but did more damage than I was expecting, about 25% damage, around there. Then TYRANITAR countered with Rock Slide, which pummeled little Kiki with hundreds of rocks for super effective damage, knocking her out, at which point I was wincing and getting a little nervous, sweating more than ever, and not just because of the blazing summer heat.
Now, it was one versus one, Freddy versus TYRANITAR. I had a slight advantage, however, because TYRANITAR was missing some health, thanks to Kiki’s dying blow, but despite that, I still had a big type disadvantage. It was very likely that even one Rock Slide would kill Freddy. But I went for it anyway. I selected Iron Tail, and Freddy glowed all silvery, then leaped forward all majestic, swinging his big fluffy tail at TYRANITAR. Before the attack had connected, Silver hid a gasp, then said, “It’s going to take more than that to kill my Tyranitar.” But then the crash sound effect went off, TYRANITAR’s sprite started blinking, and his health bar started dropping, dropping, dropping. I was holding my breath, hoping for the best, one hand nervously gripping Freddy’s scruff, but to my surprise, the health bar kept dropping and dropping until eventually there was no health bar left at all, then TYRANITAR’s sprite also dropped, because he had fainted.
In Gen 2 Pokemon, every attack has a 6.64% chance of being a critical hit, at least according to Prima’s Official Strategy Guide for Pokemon Crystal.
I had won the match, but I didn’t get much of a chance to revel in my victory, because the next thing that happened I could barely believe.
Silver stood up fast, yanked his Game Boy back, ripping the link cable out, which caused me to lose grip on my own Game Boy, dropping it in the dirt. I quickly picked it up and looked up at Silver, my eyes narrow and harsh, and that was when I watched him rear his arm back above his head then chuck his Game Boy right at Freddy as hard as he could. The Game Boy crashed into Freddy’s big black nose, followed by a sharp yelp, and then Freddy snarled louder than I had ever heard him snarl before, and then he lurched at Silver, so I screamed, “NO, FREDDY, STOP,” but he was already galloping at Silver, who was bolting around the side of the house as fast as he could, with Freddy snapping at his ankles the whole way, leaving a trail of snarls and slobber in his wake. I could hear Silver screaming, shouting, “GET THAT DAMN DOG AWAY FROM ME,” the words trailing off as he ran for his life.
Red and Philip had taken off behind them, but I was huffing and puffing, trying to keep up. By the time I got to the garage, I heard a door slam, at which point Freddy turned back to me, snarling, vicious as hell, before recognizing that it was me. Then he slowly walked up to me, whimpering a little, his head hung real low, so I lifted it with my hands, and that was when I saw his nose, all scuffed up with some blood smeared across it.
I had started wiping blood off Freddy’s nose with my shirt when Philip said, “He’s right about that crazy dog, he needs to be put down.” Then he got on his bike, which had been supine in the yard this whole time, and started turning it toward the street with shaky balance. Red, standing right by Philip, said, “Carter threw a Game Boy at him, what do you expect?” But Philip only rolled down the driveway and yelled, “KEEP THAT DOG AWAY FROM ME,” as he pedaled down the turn of Mossy Oak Way.
I was bent over, stroking Freddy’s head, biting my lip, nervously thinking about all the things Silver might be telling his parents right now, about how Freddy just randomly attacked him or something, and how maybe that would prompt his parents to call the pound or, worse, try to put Freddy down themselves. It was starting to freak me out, so I stood up and said, “C’mon, Freddy, let’s go home.”
And that’s what we did. We crossed the street and went home. Red followed me, and when we got to the front door, he said, “I guess we’re not going fishing with Carter today.”
“Carter?” I said, all confused.
Red raised a single eyebrow.
“Oh. Silver. Right. Yeah. I guess not.”
7, Back at Susu’s
The AC washed over us, chilling our heated souls. We made our way into the kitchen to grab some juice boxes out of the fridge, and that’s when I heard the radio going off from the garage, the door wide open. It was Art Bell. Susu listened to that guy all the time.
“My name is Amelia, from Mexico.” Clack, clack, clack. “OK, Amelia, what do you have for us today?” Clack, clack. “Well, when I was seven, I witnessed an abduction.” Clack. “OK, sure, go on.” Clack, clack. “I was out with my mother, and my little brothers, who were a big handful, and we were at the park, at the playground, and it was kinda, like, twilight outside, you know.” Clack, clack. “OK, sure. Keep going, we have a few more minutes here.” Clack, clack, clack. “Well, I go play on the swing, and then, I don’t know how much time passed, but I saw this bright light in the sky, and it kinda blinds me, so after, I go look for my mother and brothers, because I couldn’t see them anywhere, and after a little bit I see my mother walking back up the path, but my brothers aren't with her.” Clack, clack, clack, clack. “Interesting.” Clack, clack. “My mother was crying, she said they were abducted by aliens.” Clack, clack, clack. “Really. Huh. Did they ever show up, I mean, later on?” Clack. “Never.”
Susu was in the garage, sewing.
Red and I were sipping juice boxes in a funk, the radio breaking the silence between us, and also Freddy, who was lapping away at his water bowl, right next the table, and then he started munching kibble real loud out of the bowl right next to it. He seemed to have forgotten all about the incident with Silver, but I certainly hadn’t. I felt like I was going to cry my eyes out, for some reason, as I sat there, slurping up the last of my Juicy Juice.
“Where in Mexico was this?” Clack, clack. “Baja California.” Clack. “And you never saw them again?” Clack, clack. “No, never again.” Clack. “Where was your dad in all this?” Clack, clack, clack. “He was at home.” Clack, clack. “And what did he think about it?” Clack. “Well, he was very upset about the whole thing.” Clack, clack.
Then Art Bell did that low, incredulous chuckle he was so well known for, the one that sounded both understanding and a little patronizing at the same time, then, between the clacking, he said, “Alright, well, we have to cut to commercial, but, you heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen, don’t take your kids out in the twilight of Baja California, they might just get abducted. Anyway, thanks for that, and you have a good day, Amelia, sorry about your brothers.” Clack, clack. Then the stinger went off and someone started talking enthusiastically about used cars, at which point the clacking had stopped, and Susu was now standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Oh, hey boys, are you hungry, need something to eat?”
“No thanks, Susu,” Red said, followed by the dry gurgle of juice box.
“We’re OK right now,” I added.
“Well, you boys just let me know.”
Then I said, “Hey Susu,” kind of somberly, and she turned to me, and I told her the whole story, about what had happened with Freddy and Silver. I told her about the game of Pokemon and how I won and how it made Silver really upset and how he threw the Game Boy at Freddy and how Freddy chased him off and how Philip said Freddy needed to be put down and how I never thought victory could feel so bad. My eyes were watery the whole time. Red was just nodding along, silently confirming the whole thing. And after I finished telling Susu the whole story, she just smiled and said, “Come here.” So I stood up and went to her. She wrapped her arms around me, my head pushed up against her chest, and she said, “Everything’s going to be OK.” And that’s when I started crying a little bit, not because I was sad or scared or anything, but because of this overwhelming feeling of compassion washing over me. “Nothing’s going to happen to Freddy,” she said, like it was simply a matter of fact. And then she let me go, and I stepped back and wiped my eyes and nose. Red was sitting there, at the table, empty juice box, twiddling his thumbs, looking awkward. Then Susu said, “I never liked that boy anyway, something’s off about him.” And then, suddenly, feeling a lot better, I said, “Can you make us some Bagel Bites?”
“Certainly.” Susu’s smile was warmer than a beautiful summer afternoon.
Red and I ate our Bagel Bites to the sound of Art Bell and clacking, then we watched some SpongeBob on Susu’s bed, and I played a little Pokemon, too. Neither Silver nor his parents nor any of his sisters showed up. I guess Silver didn’t tell anyone about what had happened. I didn’t know why not, at the time, I just figured I had lucked out, again.
After about an hour of cartoons and Pokemon, Red turned to me and said, “How about you and me go fishing?” He was always wanting to go fishing for some reason. I shrugged and said, “Yeah, I guess, as long as I can take Freddy,” and he was fine with that. So I grabbed my pole and tackle box from the garage, and we made our way to the front door.
As we were leaving the house, Susu called out to us, “If you boys see a bright light, come right back home!” She actually believed in all that stuff, always on the lookout for alien life, as if life on Earth just wasn't exciting enough for her or something.
Red and I just looked at each other, eyebrows raised, shaking our heads, then I shouted, “Love you!” back into the house, and then off we went, to the fishing pond.
8, The Pond
The fishing pond was just beyond the verdant alley on the side of Susu’s house, in front of the clubhouse, right near Red’s house, which was two stories of red brick, surrounded by red maple and palm. The pond itself was the jewel of Arcadia, it was the perfect size, with waters so clear you could see Goldeen swimming right through, and grass full of Ledyba if you looked close enough, and cattails dotting the banks upon which Squirtle lounged all day, and Magikarp jumping for days. The only things out of place, really, were the two overflow pipes, one big enough to sit on, or swim into if you were feeling crazy, the other just barely large enough to stand on, yet even those gray pipes added to the pond’s charm, a certain suburban flair, and there was this urban legend that Feraligatr sometimes crawled out of the big one, but no one I knew had ever seen one, so I wasn't scared at all.
I remember, on our walk there, we disturbed a murder of Murkrow, and they took off high in the blue Jumpluff sky. And when we got to the pond proper, we saw Silver’s older sister, sitting on the edge of the big overflow pipe, her pale legs dangling as she casually smoked a cigarette, her long, orange hair fluttering in the summer breeze a little bit. She was all decked out in camo. Their whole family dressed like that, as if they only shopped at Bass Pro Shops or something.
Red and I stopped and looked at each other curiously. We both wanted to avoid her, but we also had to walk right past her to get to the good fishing spot, just a few feet away from Red’s back porch, where all his fishing gear was stashed away. So there was really no getting around her.
“Hey,” she said in her smoky voice as we walked by and pretended like she wasn't there. Then she raised her voice a little bit, “Hey!” but we kept walking. Then she raised her voice a lot, “HEY,” so I stopped, but Red kept going right up to his porch, because he was smooth like that, unlike me, always a sucker for girls. Anyway, I turned to her, and she was staring right at me with those big green eyes of hers, which were a little alluring but also intimidating as hell. But I wasn’t too nervous, because Freddy was right by my side, his eyes narrowing in on her, as if trying to determine if she was a threat. But he didn’t end up growling or anything, which was a good sign, because I had come to realize that Freddy was a fine judge of character.
“What, what is it?” I said meekly, putting my tackle box and pole down in the grass.
She dragged on her cigarette, then exhaled a huge cloud of smoke. “What’d you do to my brother?” she said.
“I, I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why’d he run inside, screaming his head off?” she said, kicking her legs back and forth between drags.
It suddenly dawned on me why no one came over to my house earlier, because Silver was too proud, or too ashamed, to tell anyone about what had happened. So I told the truth, as I knew it, “Because he threw his Game Boy at my Pokemon.”
Silver’s sister looked seriously confused. “Your Pokemon?”
“I, I mean, my dog, Freddy,” I said, stuttering because I was no good at talking to girls.
She genuinely laughed, then she put her cigarette out, between her legs, on the rim of the overflow pipe.
“It’s not funny, he made Freddy bleed,” I said as I placed a hand on Freddy’s head and started scratching behind his ear, which caused him to close his eyes, point his nose to the sky, and look blissful as hell. Then I said, in a very nasty tone, “There’s something wrong with your brother.”
Red appeared next to me, fishing pole in one hand, a cheap foldable chair in the other.
Silver’s sister didn’t say anything for a few seconds, only the chirping of Pidgey and croaking of Politoed and the occasional splashing of Magikarp could be heard. She took the quiet time to slip another cigarette between her big lips, then she suddenly jumped to her feet, balancing on the overflow pipe, patting her pants down, presumably looking for something in her pockets. But after a few seconds of patting, she said, “Either of you got a light? Guess I left mine back home.”
“I’m ten,” I said.
Red didn’t say a word, he just unfolded his chair, placed it by the edge of the pond, sat down, and cast his line out with a satisfying zip, all in one quick motion somehow.
“I smoked when I was ten,” Silver’s sister said, taking the cigarette out of her mouth and placing it behind her ear, which poked out of her hair like an elf or something. Then she jumped off the pipe and walked closer to us, stopping right in front of me. I had to look up to see her freckled face, because she was pretty tall for a girl.
“Look, Carter’s got anger problems,” she said, looking down at me, “you have to be careful not to make him mad.”
“How’s that my problem?” I said, my tone very bratty.
“It’s not,” she said, “just something you should know.”
“OK, well, thanks, now I know.” I was being extra bratty, on account of the whole thing.
“And it’s not his fault, you know,” she said before removing the cigarette from behind her ear, “You sure you don’t have a lighter?”
“I’m sure.”
“What about you?” she threw her voice at Red.
“I’m also ten,” he said, focusing on his line, which wasn’t moving at all.
I was kind of annoyed at Silver’s sister for making excuses for her brother, so I said, bratty tone turned up to eleven, “How is it not his fault?”
“Well,” she said, turning to the pond and looking out reflectively at the clubhouse, “it’s our dad, he’s not very nice.”
“My dad’s not very nice all the time either,” I said, very snotty, “Doesn’t mean I can just go around doing whatever I want.”
“I mean, he’s,” she trailed off, then closed her eyes as if trying to hold something back, and opened them again after several seconds. “Our dad’s very, very not nice, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t, sorry,” I said, turning away from her, being quite dismissive and bratty. Then I grabbed my fishing pole and let the line zip out into the pond after one clumsy swing. I didn't actually know how to fish, I just pretended like I did.
There was a brief quiet, only the rippling of water and the laughter of far-off children in the pool could be heard.
Then, after a good ten seconds, she said, “That’s not how you cast a line, kid,” as she stepped closer, literally towering over me. Freddy, who was sitting between Red and me, wasn’t snarling or growling or anything, so it seemed like he fully trusted her, even when she reached out her hand to help me with my fishing pole.
“Here, let me show you,” she said. But I jerked the rod away and said, “Just leave me alone, you and your mean dad or whatever can go hang out with Silver, I don’t care, it’s not my problem.”
“Fine,” she said, turning away all in a huff, about to walk away when Lauren showed up through a break in the hedge between two nearby houses, on the opposite side of the pond. I swear I saw a few Spearow fly out from behind her. “Hey, Katie Belle!” she shouted across the water. And that’s when Silver’s sister, who I guess was called Katie Belle, waved back and ran around the pond to meet Lauren, at which point Lauren shouted across the water, “Hey, Miles! Want to hang out?” But Red just shook his head and shouted, “Can’t! I’m fishing like a mofo!” So Lauren shouted, “Fine, come over later!” And then, just like that, Katie Belle and Lauren vanished through the hedge.
I looked at Red, kind of flabbergasted. “I didn’t know Lauren hung out with Silver’s, I mean, Carter’s sisters.”
“I didn’t either,” Red said with a shrug.
Then a few minutes of nothing happened as we sat there, poles in hand. I swear, at one point, I saw a Seaking jump out of the water for a second, but other than that, it was pretty boring.
Until something crazy happened.
Red’s line went taut, then it tugged a bit, so he leaned in, super focused, and started pulling and reeling like crazy. But after several intense seconds of reeling, the line snapped, and I guess Red was pulling so hard that, when it did, the force of it sent him back in his chair, causing him to fall backward and knock his head on his tackle box. Freddy was lying down on his belly between us, relaxing with one eye open, his tail outstretched as far as it could go. I tossed my pole to the side, then stood up and offered Red a hand, which he firmly grabbed and used to pull himself up. But when he got to his feet, he took a step forward and accidentally stepped on Freddy’s tail. And that’s when it happened.
He must have stepped real hard, because Freddy yelped louder than I had ever heard him yelp before, and then, in a flash, like a whirlwind, Freddy jumped up and chomped down on Red’s leg, right through the calf, like a feral beast or something, then he let go and sulked back, whimpering, as if realizing he had done something terrible.
Red let out a chilling scream, then he started yelling, “HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME!” He had fallen over and was writhing in the grass. “HELP! MY LEG! HE BIT ME!” he shouted, voice cracking, grasping at his leg with both hands, blood oozing out between the cracks of his fingers. The grass was red. “DAMN DOG BIT ME!” The screams were blood-curdling. I had no idea what to do. My eyes were supermoons and my body had taken on heinous gravity. Something had stolen my voice, because I was trying to say something but nothing came out. Freddy was hiding behind me, whimpering.
Red’s dad must have heard the screaming because I saw him burst out of the big porch doors and rush down the small flight of wooden stairs. He made a beeline to his son and instantly kneeled by him, placing a hand on his son’s head to calm him down, which worked because Red stopped screaming and was now just looking up at his father, wide-eyed and trembly, the first time I ever saw him afraid. His father, who looked just like him but more gruff and outdoorsy with snowy stubble, said, “Let’s see the wound.” Then he moved Red’s hand out of the way. The blood had stopped flowing but was now caked around the fang-shaped holes, skin all swollen, deep purples and greens spreading out from around the torn flesh. But Red’s dad didn’t seem that concerned. He just picked his son up, like some sort of superhero, and said, “It looks worse than it is.” Then he looked at me and said, “What happened?”
Enough time had passed for me to regain some semblance of composure, but I was feeling a mix of fear and anger, fear for the repercussions that would fall upon Freddy and me, and anger at Freddy for even doing this to begin with, for putting us in this situation, for hurting my best friend. So instead of answering Red’s dad’s question, without really thinking, I turned to Freddy and started shouting at him.
“BAD BOY! WHY’D YOU DO IT?!” I shouted, as if expecting a real answer. My hands flailed at Freddy, whose head hung low, whimpering. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” He was cowering like I had never seen him cower before, like he thought I was going to hit him or something. Maybe I would have, I don’t know. “BAD DOG! STUPID DOG!” I screamed. But he just looked up at me with these big, shaky eyes, then in one quick motion turned and bolted through a gap in the holly hedge near Red’s house.
“NO!” I cried, suddenly overwhelmed with this awful feeling. “I DIDN’T MEAN IT!” I shouted, taking off after him. “COME BACK!”
Then I heard Red’s voice, pained, harsh, and terrible, from his father’s arms, “I knew you liked that dog more than me!” And this stopped me like a Stantler in headlights. I was suddenly conflicted. So I turned my head to Red, then back to where Freddy had run off, then back to Red, then back to Freddy, who was now completely out of sight, lost in the wilds of Arcadia. I felt as if I were about to make the most important decision of my life. I remember Red’s father glaring at me with these sharp, judgmental eyes the whole time.
There I was, at this devastating crossroad, stay with Red or run after Freddy.
So I ran.
9, The Grove
I ran through overgrown alleys of wild grass and tall weeds, pushed through prickly holly, and leaped over fallen logs from the massive oaks and maples that hung over the hissing summer lawns I trespassed, trampling dandelions and breaking Sunflora in my wake, following my frightened friend like chasing one of the Legendary Pokemon across Johto, and as I bolted across yet another street into yet another lawn, where a group of Sentret, who were starting to look a lot like squirrels, scampered away, and I was refreshed by the cooling waters of a sprinkler, I had nearly caught up to Freddy, who had not broken his stride at all, but as I got closer to him, he stopped only for a moment, looked back with these sad eyes, then bolted again, faster this time, boosting into a wooded area full of red maple, oak, and palm, right behind the backyard of a tall brick house. I imagined him as Entei, sparks and embers trailing as he charged through the wood, where he eventually stopped in a shaded grove within a circle of trees, where only a few rays of sun poked through the canopy, like hope on the worst day ever.
“I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t mean it,” I stuttered after catching up. I was bent over with my hands on my knees, huffing loudly, totally out of breath.
Freddy just stood there, in the very center of the grove, stray sunbeams all around him, looking all legendary and majestic and sad.
I dropped to the ground, bottom first, hands behind me, propping myself up, then I lifted my face to the canopy and let out a long sigh.
“I didn’t mean it,” I said. “You’re not stupid, you’re not bad.”
Freddy, of course, said nothing. I don't know what I was expecting.
“I just, I just don’t know why you did it.”
Freddy was watching me, tongue now draped out of his mouth, panting softly.
“Why’d you bite him?”
Freddy hung his head, whimpering a little bit at the question.
“Now everyone hates me.” I sat up lotus, glaring at Freddy. “I don’t really care about Silver,” I said, “but Philip, sometimes I hang out with him when I’m bored.” I paused to make sure Freddy was paying attention. He was. “And Red,” I said, frowning real hard. “I don’t think he’s ever gonna hang out with me again.”
A big cloud must have passed overhead because it got real dark all of a sudden. There was some heat lightning off in the distance, followed by a far-off rumble. When the cloud passed, suddenly, almost like magic, everything was dim, and the little sky I could see through the canopy looked like someone had spilled pink and orange paint on a dark blue canvas, and there was only enough light to just barely see Freddy, standing out there in the center of the grove.
“And, and tomorrow Dad’s coming to pick us up, and I’m gonna have to tell him what happened.” My eyes welled up and my voice was cracking. “And, and what if,” I couldn’t get it out. “What if they,” I stopped, my voice shaky as hell. “What if, what if they have to put you down?” Now I was really crying. “I, I don’t,” I really couldn’t get it out. Then I covered my face with both hands and started doing these big dry heaves, unable to speak but trying my best.
“I, I just don’t know what I’d do.”
Then I felt something wet on the back of my hand, so I stretched my fingers open and looked through them. It was Freddy’s big black scuffed-up nose, so I lowered my hands and looked straight into his big canine eyes. I could see my reflection there. I looked awful. Then he gave me a big slobbery lick across my entire face. I started laughing a little bit. Then he licked me again. I started laughing a lot. Then I wrapped my arms around his fluffy neck and started play-wrestling, getting on all fours, horsing around, pretending we were both Pokemon. We were play-fighting like crazy. He was snarling in his funny way and I was laughing my head off. There was a flash of heat lightning. The low rumble in the southern sky turned into a light drizzle, which barely made its way through the canopy, but we ignored it, we just kept playing, and for a moment there I had forgotten about everything and I was truly happy. I really was.
Then, after some time, I fell on my back, out of breath, stray droplets hitting my forehead, and that’s when Freddy, standing over me, licked my face one last time before turning away.
He turned away as if he knew what he had to do.
I sat up, watching him closely, my eyes welling up again, as if I also knew what he had to do.
Then he started walking away, into the depths of the grove.
I called, softly, “Freddy, Freddy, where are you going?”
But he did not look back.
In that moment, it didn’t feel right to follow him or make him come back, like he would have been sad or something if I’d tried. I don’t know why I felt that way, but that’s how I felt. That’s how I felt as I let him go. That’s how I felt as I watched him walk away. That’s how I felt when the heat lightning flashed real bright, and just like that, he was gone.
And then I felt all alone.