I hate Bianca.

I come to this conclusion about halfway through the latest re-run of "Your Pokemon." I've been hearing the same half-story about Meg the Purrloin for the past four years and no matter how high I turn the volume I've never really been able to drown out that too-high drifting voice. Her mouth is perpetually moving, but it seems like nothing ever really comes out of it.

"—and don't you just love Mushie's new flower? It's rose-scented, too! You'd never guess it wasn't real!"

I take a commercial break to cast a pitying gaze upon the pink pig of a pokemon dozing next to the girl who is sitting daintily on my bed, ankles crossed and tucked neatly to the side. I want to tell her that if she wanted a flowered covered monstrosity she shouldn't have let the thing evolve, but let it slide as Meg the Purrloin reappears on the screen. It's probably for the best, anyway. Bianca's Musharna has never particularly cared for me—probably something to do with it being psychic.

"Oh!" she exclaims, clutching her hat to her head in a ridiculously adorable fashion. "I almost forgot!" She digs through her purse for a quick moment before raising her fist in victory. "Da-ta ta-da," she trumpets in high-pitched victory, which earns an equally high-pitched, Mushh, from the newly woken pokemon at her side. "I got one for your pokemon, too!"

I try not to look down my nose at it because I know she means well, and I know Serperiorwill probably give me that look when I present it to him later. A genuine smile lights on my face at the thought and it crosses my mind that I've spent far too much time with the overgrown snake—he's starting to rub off on me. "Thanks, Bianca."

"I'm so glad you like it!" she squeals. "Cheren and I found them in Castelia last weekend. He didn't think it was you, but I knew."

I turn the TV off at this. "How is he doing?"

Cheren was news. I didn't see much of him since he'd picked teams. It was an unspoken agreement that we not see each other without Bianca in between.

"Oh, Cheren? He's great. He's practically taken over Professor Juniper's lab! They had to build a whole new addition for all you—well, all the pokemon they keep in there now." She smiles widely to cover the slip, unaware she's hit me twice.

It is all of my pokemon that ended up in that lab, I concede silently to myself. There was just no room after mom insisted I settle down and actually finish school. Apparently Pokemon Master wasn't sturdy enough to fall back on, and it was hard enough to find room for almost 11 feet of Serperior, let alone the other odd 700 lbs of pokemon I'd trotted home with.

Lot of good it did us, I snorted to myself. Here I was, a 19 year old townie. And the only joy Serperior ever saw was eating the neighbor's cat.

"We've really been worried about you," Bianca implored.

I, personally, found it amazing they kept buying cats.

"You've been really down since...well…since…"

Reshiram, of course, had to go. He did not belong with me as much as he ever thought he did. Where Reshiram was legendary I was painfully mortal, and as soon as Team Plasma had been dealt with it seemed that all the wonder and magic had vanished from my life. Reshiram no longer fit and it would be best if he found someone to match. I backpacked up to the league and left him in the same place I last saw his brother. The last place I saw-


"I'm fine," I assure her, but it's useless; she sees right through me.

I hate Bianca.