Chapter One: The First Step
Sandra panted heavily, clutching her sides. She had just ran all the way from her city to Rockpoint Town, having made sure to tread in every puddle and in every single dirt ditch along the road. It felt excruciatingly good to have mud smeared all over her sandals and feet without anyone scolding her. She glanced down, wriggling her dirty toes. She remembered she had also bounced into a large pool of muddy water, so now both her shirt and her ragged, satisfyingly cut-up jeans were streaked with dark brown. Oh well. She would just have to change them.
She took a deep breath. The freedom was exhilarating. No more curtseys, no more nagging teachers, no more curfews. She felt like Sandrilene Goldenflower was born anew.
No, I'm Sandra now, she reminded herself. She had always wanted a nickname, or a break from her boring, lady-like real name, but of course, her parents had not permitted it.
It isn't lady-like! Nicknames are too...! she imitated her parents in her head. Too what? Down to earth?
She knew her parents did love her though, deep down. But she only wished they would love her the way she was. It would be so much simpler that way. Not to mention a lot less expensive. She rolled her eyes as she thought about the critical amount of money that would normally cause an economical crisis her parents payed for her education. And right now they might be sending search parties everywhere for her, wasting tons and tons of money...
She slapped her face, shaking her head vigorously. Now's not the time to think about that! I have to hurry and find Professor Orchard's lab.
She glanced around, her eyes scanning the town for any sign of the lab. Her gaze fell upon a battered, wooden sign at the corner of the dirt-trodden street. She squinted, trying to make out its bumpy, uneven writing.
PRoFessor Orchard ' s LAboRatory (THat WaY)
Besides it was a wobbily-carved arrow. The sign was handmade, and not by a professional wood-worker either. But she liked it. It was a nice, humble sign that seemed to stick out proudly even when it was standing crookedly, barely pushed into the ground. It showed that you didn't need to be perfect as long as you put your effort in it. Too bad her parents didn't learn that at school. It would have made her life a lot easier.
She followed the arrow and found herself on a small trail. The ground was covered in pebbles and sharp stones poked out of the earth, with tiny weeds growing in the cracks. Sandra took off her shoes and made her way up the trail barefooted, careful not to step on any potientally dangerous objects.
Oh, wait, she thought. I'm a normal girl now, aren't I? I should say, "sharp pointy stuff", not things like "lethal and highly hazardous subsrances". Though it might be funny to say things like that once in a while.
Small trees grew on either side of the path. Most of them apple trees, she observed. The deeper she went, the more she noticed that the grass was neatly trimmed and that there were no more weeds protruding from the rocks, which, in their turn, shifted from cracked, untidy pieces of rock to smooth, white stone.
I must be getting close to the lab, she remarked. I wonder if all this is their propriety?
Suddenly, she tripped. It must have been a loose piece of stone or something, but she didn't know. She slapped the ground with her hands, sending an electric jolt up her arms. She knelt on the ground, massaging her sore upper-arms. Now to think of it, she had ran the whole night, and the morning as well. Desperation, stress, and excitement had given her the need and endurance. But now that everywhere in her body ached, she regretted it deeply.
There was a sudden ripping sound. She looked down. There was now a four inch-long tear running down the left side of her jean. Sighing, she stood up and was about to open the small duffel bag she had brought with her, when she saw a flash of gold, and her big, old-fashioned watch slipped off her wrist and dropped to the ground with a soft clatter. The strap had given way. She picked it up again and examined it. The hand for the seconds wasn't ticking. It was broken.
Oh well, she thought, stuffing it in her pocket. It was an old one. Aunt Florence gave it to me. I never liked it.
Now she opened her bag. She had brought other clothes with her too. She took out a light summer dress and slipped her torn jeans and dirty shirt in it. She changed quickly, just in case somebody might pass by there. It was unlikely, though. Yesterday and today were the only days Professor Orchard would give out starter Pokemon, and not that many people would drop by at an old man's scientific laboratory just for the fun of it.
Wait a minute...
It was true! Today was the last day the Professor would be giving out free starters! At the speed of light, Sandra yanked out the poster she had put in her bag. It was awfully wrinkled, but she didn't care. Her eyes darted back and forth on the text, searching for the paragraph she was looking for.
There it was! Individuals must present themselves at the laboratory from 12:00 to 3:00 PM. No Pokemon will be handed out after said time. There are no exceptions.
Sandra's stomach lurched. Her blood seemed to turn to ice, and the world around her seemed to stop. Three o'clock...three o'clock...time! Time, time, time, time, time! She dashed madly up and down the path, moving at a speed she didn't even know existed, not caring that her bag was still open, her split jeans that were poking out were flapping in the wind, her clothes flying out and landing on the path, where they would get dirty and would be seen, not caring, the wind blowing her hair in every single direction, her face stinging from the bits of stuff coming from the sky, was it rain, no, maybe it was leaves, no, maybe not, oh, it didn't matter, whatever, agh, TIME!
She put on another burst of speed. Her throat was on fire, her legs aching, her lungs screaming, but she kept on running, desperation was making her go on, oh, there it was, there it was! The gray laboratory, yes, yes, yes, getting closer, closer, and closer--YES!
...or maybe...not...?
SLAM. She crashed into the glass door with such tremendous force that she felt like every bone in her body had been crushed and grinded to pieces. The shock resonated everywhere throughout her body. She fell to the floor, the world spinning around her. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, her vision blurry and covered with spots. She blinked a few times, and to her relief, though she was still badly shaken and wasn't quite conscious of everything, they cleared away. She tried getting up. A stabbing pain spiked up her leg, but that was normal. After all, she did smash into a, rather solid, glass door at the speed of who-knew-how-many kilometers per hour. She tried moving her left hand. It was fine, though it hurt. Well, actually, every part of her body hurt. But...there was this hot, searing pain in her right shoulder. She glanced at it. Nothing seemed to be in it, at least, which was what she had feared. Like a sharp branch puncturing her arm or something. Well, at least it wasn't br--wait. ...what? She tried moving it. An intense, agonizing pain flared as a response. She gulped, fighting back tears. She knew what was wrong.
Her shoulder was broken.
