THE SMILE OF FAMILY

by Ryan Libra

CHAPTER 3

Wade picked at his serving of steaming chicken pot pie. It was delicious, there was no doubt about it. The whitish sauce was a pleasure on the tongue, and the mix of carrots, potatoes, peppers, and other vegetables enhanced the flavor. The problem was, too many cheerless thoughts clouded his head and prevented him from fully enjoying the meal.

The Great Gardevoir was a gem of a location, for despite the hustle and bustle of the Fair outside it was surprisingly quiet and private inside. For an establishment that was just erected for the sake of the Fair, it was quite elegant. The colors came from Gardevoir: white tablecloth bordered by a soft green, white curtains that framed the few windows on the walls, light green chairs, and a polished floor composed of red slats. Small, cream-colored ceramic vases with single roses posed daintily on the tabletops. The utensils were slender and well- crafted but with little design, and they gleamed in the faint sunlight that filtered through the curtained windows.

The waiter arrived and laid down Skye’s steak, well-done, with the herbed mashed potatoes and homemade gravy that he had been drooling about. Wade cleared some space for his own order, a plate of deep-fried calamari.

“Dig in!” Skye declared with relish.

Wade watched for a while as Skye demolished half the steak, assaulted the chicken pot pie, then the steak again. Wade sighed. He supposed there was no point in wasting the dish.

Just as he was about to swallow, he spotted a lanky man wearing a brown sleeveless shirt, a bandanna over his head, and mud-colored walking shoes with black shoelaces enter the restaurant. The man had a hooked nose, an angular jaw, and a mouth that seemed to be forever carved into a sneer, as if the whole world around him was nothing but a joke. Wade’s eyes widened. The food stayed in his mouth. He turned away, stared at his glass of water and quickly downed it.

“Wade… are you alright?”

Wade’s head jerked towards Skye.

“You’re… you’re shaking.”

He looked at his hand, a tight, trembling fist. With effort he relaxed it and drank some more water.

“Wade, maybe—”

“I’m fine,” he said, a little more roughly than he intended. “I need to use the restroom.”

- x x x -

Skye watched Wade’s retreating back. What just happened? He shifted his attention to the hook-nosed man that had just entered. Pensively chewing on his steak, the long-haired blonde watched the man amble to one of the waiters to whisper something. Seems that Wade isn’t the only one acting suspicious… Skye tapped his fork on his chin. Might as well eavesdrop. He focused his mind on the man and sent out a mental probe.

These dang waiters didn’t even prepare the cutlery! And to think we paid them extra money to get the color we wanted! Stupid, now I have to wait. Waste of my time.

Skye frowned as he terminated the mental link. Cutlery? What cutlery? And why would something like that send Wade into a fit? He wished he was more skilled with mindreading; unfortunately, this department wasn’t really his area of expertise as a psychic. A little irked that the man’s presence had ruined the fun atmosphere that Skye was trying to build despite Wade’s constant doom and gloom, he flicked his wrist.

The man fell hard on his rump. Skye snickered. The waiters quickly attended to him but he shoved them away with a snarl.

“Just give me the stupid plates!”

Skye took a worried glance towards the restroom. He had half a mind to eavesdrop again, but he decided against it. Still, he didn’t need to be psychic to figure out that Wade wasn’t really in there to tidy up. A strong urge to make sure that he was alright nearly pulled Skye to stand up, but he decided against that, as well. Skye knew that Wade wouldn’t appreciate it, but what was he supposed to do? Just sit there worrying?

- x x x -

The faucet ran. Wade took deep, calming breaths.

That was Jacobson. He’d know that smirk anywhere. It was the same one he had worn when he had approached him and had pretended to be his friend. But the whole thing had turned out to be a ruse by his father, a trick to get him to trust the thug so the guy could slowly teach him the tricks of the thief’s trade. An overheard conversation had revealed this to him, and when his naďve six-year old self had stupidly confronted the henchman, he had paid dearly for it. The price was a beating delivered by the same guy.

On his father’s orders, Jacobson had also taken away his first pokémon. It was a Shellder he had found during the rare moments he could be allowed outside. He had spotted the cute little Water pokémon flapping its valves in the sand near the harbor. Eager and excited—that was how Shellder had been when it had first met him. But after a few weeks, it had contracted some disease, probably from the unsanitary environment that Wade and his mother had been forced to call home. It got worse when his father had found out. Why play with a Water pokémon when he could grow strong with a Ground one, he had asked in that grating, adipose-constricted voice that Wade had grown to fear and hate. The man had been furious when he discovered that he had kept Shellder. As if lobbing the poor Water pokémon into a trashcan hadn’t been enough punishment, his father had also tied him up for days despite the tears and wails of his mother. When Wade had been freed at last, the trashcan had nothing but banana peels and shredded carton boxes.

He splashed more water into his face. This wasn’t the first time he had seen familiar people like Jacobson. He had forgotten the others’ names, but he could never forget their faces. He clasped Umbreon’s pokéball and released the Dark pokémon, then quickly clung to it and buried his head into the other’s own.

[I hate myself for this,] he cried out mentally. He was shuddering, but he didn’t care. [Why do I have to be so pathetic?]

Umbreon licked his cheek. It opted not to answer.

The two stayed like that for a while. Wade wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed when he placed Umbreon on the tiled floor and washed his face for the final time.

[You better get back fast,] Umbreon told him. [I have a feeling that Skye’s getting worried.]

Wade bit back the acerbic reply that was becoming automatic whenever there was mention of Skye. He returned his gaze to the mirror; his face was back to how he was used to it: impassive as a Bronzong’s front but with the slight feral glint of a Gyarados. Deciding to keep Umbreon out, he exited the restroom and was surprised to see Skye standing just outside.

“I was worried,” Skye flat out told him in a soft voice. “The food not agree with you?”

Wade just shrugged and returned to the table, where he resumed eating as if nothing had happened. But not before stealing a glimpse of the glass display where different kinds of cakes sat in their cold abode. Wade tossed a few of the calamari to Umbreon, which chipped with satisfaction after gulping them down. Skye, done with his meal, picked at the remains of his steak quietly.

Maybe I should get that vanilla chiffon… Wade thought as he took another furtive glance at the glass display. I need something to get this stress out. Or that chocolate-strawberry mousse…

Skye flagged the waiter for the cheque once they were done. Wade recalled Umbreon and followed Skye out the restaurant and back into the raging river of tourists.

The sun’s blinding rays and oppressive heat, in addition to the body heat of everyone else tramping about in the Fair, made him thankful that he had worn light clothing. He pulled his sunglasses to his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Let’s go check out more pokémon,” Skye suggested excitedly. “You think we’ll get to see some flying dragons? I want to see one!”

Wade simply shrugged.

A good half hour found them back in the area with myriad stalls selling pokémon. Most of the stalls were made out of hastily constructed tents and wooden pens, though a few took the time to build sturdier cement or brick enclosures for their merchandise. Streamers crowned most of the tent tops, announcements that screamed the best bargains in big red and orange letters. There remained a constant rumble that was composed of the various pokémon cries, a din that was sporadically punctured by a squawk, a roar, or a shriek. The overwhelming stench of wet fur, pokémon feed, and sometimes that of the occasional Poison pokémon like Grimer or Koffing veiled the air, and coupled with the stifling temperature, there was no doubt that only the most resilient of tourists would dare venture here. Resilient, or maniacal about pokémon. Wade thought that he and Skye belonged more to the latter category.

Wade’s attention was immediately arrested by the sound of punches, and he turned to his right to see a fighting ring with two pokémon sparring: one a small humanoid creature with red eyes and ample muscle, and the other a lithe, furry one with a piggy snout and a slender tail. He was about to ask if Skye were interested in Fighting pokémon like that Machop or Mankey when he spotted the other staring rapturously at something above them. Wade looked up and saw a multitude of birds from a region called Hoenn perched on top of tall poles. There were three different species in considerable numbers: the first a diminutive blue bird with a red crest that was identified by a sign as a Taillow, the second a sleek white one with blue bands on its wings called Wingull, and the third a teal pear- shape with cottony wings called Swablu.

“You want one, sonnies?” the stall owner asked as she suddenly appeared beside them. “They all grow up into different dual types: Swellow stays the usual Normal-Flying, Pelipper’s a Water-Flying, and though Swablu’s part Normal now it’ll eventually become a dragon called Altaria. Sweet, huh?”

“They young?” asked Skye, his gaze still upward. His eyes twinkled.

“You can pick from a range of Level 5 to 15.”

Skye made a thoughtful sound. Wade went on to peruse the other shops. There seemed to be a lot of Ground pokémon here. A Wooper happily bounced on top of one of the clothed roofs, making its pink gills jiggle like mad. He spotted what looked like noisy overgrown thumbs sticking out from the soil in one of the pens; it turned out that the Diglett were clamoring for more food from the shop owner. In the stall beside them wandered pokémon bearing clubs and skull helmets, and blue pokémon with elongated snouts and small red plates. One of the Cubone accidentally bashed a Phanpy with its club, after which the poor pokémon let out a high-pitched yowl. Wade winced.

A cold, imaginary hand suddenly gripped his stomach. He froze. Screams erupted into the air. Skye was quickly there beside him, and he grabbed Wade’s wrist and took cover behind an overturned wooden table as people rushed out in panic. Wade’s eyes darted back and forth as they tried to search for the cause. He gasped as he found it.

Black shapes dive-bombed into the stalls. The tents collapsed as the poles were knocked out. Shelves of items crashed to the ground. Confused by the chaos, the pokémon being sold darted off to where they thought was safe. Frightened shrieks and angry bellows crammed into the air. A piercing caw sliced through the tumult, and more followed. Wade knew those sounds, but he could not believe it.

Why are Murkrow attacking the Fair?

“Wade, stay here,” Skye urgently said. He crawled out from the table and released Gliscor, as well as an impressive bird with strong talons, a deadly curved beak, and handsome plumage on its head and tail. Wade had seen Skye’s Pidgeot very few times, but in those rare moments he was able to ascertain that the bird was well trained and more than capable of taking down a rampaging gaggle of Murkrow.

Gliscor and Pidgeot launched into work. Simultaneously flapping their wings, the two released twin Wing Attacks as if executing a planned choreography onstage. Seeing these two pokémon, other trainers released their own and began fending off the assaulting black birds. Wade watched from under the table as other spectators produced empty pokéballs and hurled them at the Dark- Flying creatures.

“Skye, behind you!”

Skye leapt forward. Seconds later a black form crash into where he had been. Skye flashed Wade a thumbs-up sign, to which the latter only frowned. Wade’s mouth was dry; he couldn’t understand why a huge wave of relief had immediately washed over him.

It wasn’t long before the birds fled in a flurry of ebony feathers and indignant squawks. The shop owners waved angry fists and hurled colorful insults at the retreating pokémon, with the shoppers immediately following suit. Skye, though, refrained from doing anything else aside from surveying the area for any more of the pugnacious pokémon, after which he slowly recalled his Pidgeot and Gliscor. He offered a hand to Wade, who was too immersed in his own thoughts to notice. Wade crawled out and let his eyes wander to search for clues. Why had those pokémon gone berserk?

His hearing focused on the enraged snarl of a shopkeeper, who began ranting about the Murkrow—evil troublemakers that didn’t belong in the Fair; it was their fault that he couldn’t find his Swinub in their pens. More shopkeepers called for the pokémon that had scampered for safety, but to no avail. A customer cried out that those wild Murkrow should all be hunted down and kept in cages for the rest of their miserable lives.

Wade, though, couldn’t have disagreed more to such cruelty—must be that love of his for Dark types. But that wasn’t the only thing bothering him. Those empty pokéballs that some clever individuals had flung had bounced right off the Murkrow.

Which meant that someone owned them.

“We’d better get going before things heat up and the police get here,” Skye said softly in Wade’s ear. Wade followed after a last glance at the scene; even that Wooper jumping up and down the tent roof wasn’t there anymore.

He went after Skye into an alley that was a lot quieter than the main streets, where no idiotic dancing Ludicolo or performing Mr. Mime could disturb them. Wade leaned against the brick, mortared wall and burrowed his hands in his pockets as he looked out at the milling throng.

“They’d probably try to use psychics if there aren’t enough clues lying around,” Skye voiced quietly, “like what they did last time when a salesman lost a bunch of Leppa Berries to a shoplifter. Clairvoyants and the like.” He peered into the main street then sat on his haunches, his back against the wall. He stared at the opposite wall with a thoughtful frown. “Wonder what made those Murkrow go ballistic like that?”

Wade didn’t hear the question. His eyes were pinned to the ground. An orange peel lay there beside the wall, which was full of the crudely painted smiling faces of Hoppip and Ledyba, pokémon that inhabited the plains outside town. The faint stench of decaying vegetables skulked among the trashcans that stonily stood not far from where they were.

“What were you doing, going out into that fray?” Wade muttered. Skye’s eyes widened a little in puzzlement. “If you got hurt, it’d be me dragging your sorry carcass back to the mart.”

Skye chuckled. He looked up at the slit of clouds that was formed by the top of the opposite buildings, as if the appropriate response were there. “No worries! I can take care of myself.”

Wade scowled. “What a moron.”

“Besides, I did say that I’d protect you, didn’t I?”

For the second time that day, Wade’s head jerked towards Skye. Those words were an echo from the past…

A long pause seemed to make the noises of excited tourists too loud. It was Skye who broke it first. “C’mon,” he said as he softly rapped his fist at Wade’s shoulder. “I heard that there were a lot of Water pokémon stalls near the harbor.” At Wade’s raised eyebrows, he laughed. “I know you like Water pokémon; those books that you keep borrowing at the library prove it.”

Wade glowered at him. “Besides being a moron, you’re a snoop, too.”

“Hey! I can’t exactly snoop when they’re just lying around on your bed! We do share rooms, you know.”

Still arguing, the two walked out of the alley.

- x x x -

Allison Andies sat down in the storeroom of the mart with a cup of coffee in his hands and a television on the table in front of him. He inhaled the sweet, bitter aroma before taking a satisfying sip, after which he placed the cup back on the saucer. With some effort he shut out the noises of shoppers as they perused the shelves and lined up at the counter outside the storeroom. Not a full day yet into the fair, and he already felt like he had been trampled over by a jolly bunch of Phanpy that had sighted a feast in his arms. Some of those kids could be so exuberant! He mentally tallied the first few things that had been cleaned out and realized that they were mostly King’s Rocks and Water Stones. Not that he should have been surprised; his was the only store in the entire Fair that constantly had a good supply of them. For the first day, anyway.

“This just in,” the female reporter on TV said. For a fleeting moment that brought a pang in his chest, he became aware of his wife as an image of her came into focus on the television. Her straight, shiny brown hair that ended in wonderful curls that rested on her slim shoulders, her turquoise, intelligent eyes, her rich, full lips… He shook his head. This reporter had curly auburn hair and too voluptuous a body. “A gaggle of Murkrow attacked stalls and caused havoc in the square near the Ebony Library. It’s not known why the fearsome beasts…”

Fearsome beasts? Murkrow were black-feathered pokémon only about a foot tall, and she called them fearsome beasts. Well, Allison supposed that a whole bunch of them punching holes into the roof, toppling tent posts, and scattering the pokémon merchandise could give such an impression. But he knew that Wade would disapprove of the label. He took another sip from his coffee and sighed.

“… the police are investigating the matter. The local individuals who possess extransensory perception, popularly known as psychics, have also been called in to scrutinize the area in case they could intuit some lead to the case…”

The woman sounded as if calling in the psychics was a complete waste of time, and Allison couldn’t blame her. He was quite familiar with these kinds of people; the best they could sometimes do was come up with vague visions and sketchy descriptions. And besides, not all psychics were actually skilled in that kind of clairvoyance; some specialized in the psychokinetic aspect such as telekinesis, the ability to move objects with one’s mind, while others had more of the subtle type such as empathy, the ability to project emotions and be rather sensitive to those of others.

Allison would know. He contemplatively held his cup a finger’s width away from his face so he could leisurely inhale the vapors of his coffee.

After all, his own sons were psychics.

His cell phone trilled in a futile attempt to imitate a Dodrio. He fished the communication device from his pocket and clicked it on.

“Yes?”

“Allison,” a voice dripping with disdain greeted. “I think the mailmen have had their whims going haywire these days. It seems that they now like delivering packages to the wrong pokémart. I never knew you were the type to send your own supplies to a rival store.”

Allison’s eyebrows indignantly rose up to his hairline, but he tried to maintain an accommodating tone. “Come now, Mr. Higgins. There’s a Fair going on, and it’s possible that the mailmen simply bungled the job. You can’t blame them in the midst of all this mayhem, can you?”

“Well, then I suppose you won’t blame me as well if I’m not able to take good care of it. I have a pokémart to run, you know. Send over one of your boys.”

Odious man. Count on a rival pokémart owner to be so neighborly. “I’ll… get it myself.”

“Short on hand these days?” Allison could already imagine the patronizing sneer on the man’s gaunt face. “Where is prosperity when you need it?” The other line then clicked shut.

I wouldn’t mind having it shoved up your ass, Allison thought sourly. I may as well get the silly thing.

He stood up and finished the cup as he returned the cell phone to his pocket. Clicking the television off, he felt a sliver of worry knot up in his stomach. He certainly hoped that the boys hadn’t been around when that gaggle of Murkrow had attacked. He knew that they were already teens and that they could take care of themselves, but still…

It certainly was a parent’s job to worry, wasn’t it?