Paul and Dawn: First Light

Chapter 28: Late

"And that's it? That's the full story?" I frowned. 

"Well..." Dawn trailed off guiltily. 

Some sort of irrational fear seized me, turning my insides cold. What else was there to tell me? Why was she delaying giving me all the information? Had she run into some other love sick admirer of hers? I resisted the urge to swallow. "What?" 

"I did sign up for this Saturday's contest in Verdanturf." Dawn looked at the ground. "And I was going to go." 

"Oh," I replied. "I see." 

She was leaving. I'd have to travel alone again, just me and my Pokemon. It'd be less distracting, sure, but Dawn had become better at being a quiet companion. Her presence was not just tolerable, but welcome. Pleasant, even. And now she had decided to leave. I'd heard it right from the Ponyta's mouth. 

She remained quiet, staring at her feet. 

"I'm going to keep training," I confirmed. I wanted her to know that I was not weak, that I would not ask to follow her around like the parasite she was, to be an annoyance, a constant bother. 

"Of course you are. I wouldn't want you to ever stop," Dawn said quickly. 

It sounded like she was swatting me away as if I was a Zubat hovering over her head. She didn't want to be around me anyway. My stomach clenched painfully. 

"Why'd you even bother to stick around for so long if you would leave with such short notice?" I shouted. 

She looked up at me, her eyes showed surprise. "Huh? What do you mean 'leave'?" 

"What do you think, Dawn? You're going to Verdanturf on Saturday." I scowled. "You're leaving your training that I thought you were committed to. You're-" 

You're leaving me, I almost accused, but swallowed it. Who cared if she was leaving? I was better off without her. Better off without anyone. 

"Paul, I want you to come with me to Verdanturf." Dawn's eyebrows were pulled down as she tried to work out my anger. "Just for the day. After the Contest, things go back to normal. Training. Just the two of us." 

The two of... us? 

A relief so sudden seeped into my body, almost knocking the breath out of me as I realized what Dawn had intended all along. Not to leave, but to invite me to the Contest for the day, a break for me and an opportunity for her to test her new skills. That was all, nothing more. 

Dawn eyed me curiously while I stared away from her, too ashamed at my assumptions. 

"You know," Dawn began speaking and I jumped, so far off in my own head, "Zoey told me that I'm becoming too much like you today." 

"I'd take it as a compliment," I replied stonily. 

Dawn smiled. "Well, I just wanted to say that you're becoming a lot like me too. More open, quick to jump to conclusions, and maybe even a smidge dramatic." 

"I'm not like you." I frowned. "I promise the day that my hair turns blue and I start humming for no reason is the day I'll kill myself." 

Dawn laughed and I gave a hesitant smile, feeling lighter than I had all day. A shade of truth in what Zoey had said hit me- Dawn wouldn't have laughed at my casual use of suicide before. Maybe I was changing. A little.

"So will you come to my Contest?" Dawn asked, looking like a small child on Christmas morning, an unwrapped gift in her hands. 

I opened my mouth, the normal retort of Contests being wastes of time and energy lost as I looked at Dawn's face, which now wilted like a dying flower as she predicted my response. I changed my answer. "Of course I'll come." 

"Whoa. Really?" Dawn's voice was giddy. 

"If I don't come, you might end up forgetting what time it is and miss your Contest." I crossed my arms and sighed as if annoyed by her, but feeling extremely lighthearted, like a weight had been lifted off my chest. "I can't deal with you crying about missing it for the next month, can I?" 

Dawn squealed and bounced up and down. "This will be so great! Wow. Ok, now I have to practice extra hard. I can't let you down." 

Let me down? The words swam through my head, but didn't make any sense. Dawn's eyes were determined. She ran over, giving me a quick hug, but released me instantly, knowing I would retort. 

Still, her body pressed against mine long enough for me to analyze the simple touch, the act of thanks. Her blue hair had brushed my nose, smelling of sweet Pecha berries.

But then she was gone, unpacking groceries and chatting animatedly about the Contest, all confusion forgotten as I listened for once, though in a daze, to her passionate views of hair styles and designer dresses.