Love and War

by Spruceton Spook

Part 2

Almost instantly, Ash could feel his stomach tightening as he approached the team he had begrudgingly made himself a part of. It consisted mostly of boys, some of whom Ash barely recognized. And then there was Gary, standing proudly in the center, exchanging brief words with his teammates. Ash’s walking slowed as the closer he came to them, almost as if he wanted to avoid approaching them. The constant urges of turning around and running back to his team nagged him, but he fought them. He had no choice now.

When he finally did reach them, he practically screeched to halt. Yes, he did indeed know some of these people, but he was hardly excited with getting to see them again. Some he even recognized from his school days, which felt like a million years ago, but it didn’t matter one way or another to him if they even spoke a word to each other. These were his friends once. He had friends now, but they were on the other side. Where Ash wished he was . . .

“Hey Ash!” Gary called to him upon noticing him. Most of the eyes of the group shot to him, causing him to hold back slightly. He managed a nervous grin. “Just in time! Did you get your paintballs?”

Eyes widening, Ash’s head lowered to his gun. “Y-yeah, but they’re yellow balls,” he replied unemotionally.

Some of the boys snickered, that including Gary. “Well, that would be pretty dumb, wouldn’t it? Going out into the field and shooting the visitors with their own balls!”

“I guess,” Ash replied. Get me outta here . . .

He startled as Gary grabbed the gun suddenly from his hands, opening the cartridge and dumping the horde of yellow balls to the ground. Ash sadly watched the balls fall to the ground and scatter, realizing what a waste it was. Once paintballs hit the ground, they were no longer used. Fear of breakage and outside materials that could harm the gun prevented that.

Gary didn’t seem to care though, carelessly shaking every last ball out and filling the gun up with new pink paintballs. A lovely choice, Ash noted adversely.

“Here ya go,” Gary said, snapping the gun shut and handing it back to Ash. He accepted it listlessly.

Dusting his hands off in conclusion, Gary kicked away the yellow paintballs and became attentive once again to the surrounding activities. Ash just stood where he was, almost praying for the call of battle to sound. The discomfort of being with a bunch of almost-strangers -- and Gary no less -- made his heart pound more and more apprehensively as the minutes passed. At least in the game, he’d be able to go out on his own and enjoy himself.

Suddenly, Ash perked as the conception arose in him. He was waiting for this game for the longest time, so why was he going to let this one thing bother him? Once he was out there, who cared whose team he was on or who was depending on him? He was going to go out there and play his hardest and have as much fun as he could. And as for Misty, Brock, and Tracey . . . maybe shooting his friends down with pink balls wouldn’t be so bad after all . . .

Heheh, Ash thought devilishly to himself, trying to hold back the grin to his personal thought. You guys are going to get it.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Gary’s voice interrupted Ash’s thoughts, wrenching him back into the picture again. His team began to walk, making their way to the patch of small woodland behind Professor Oak’s vast fields. Ash found a position towards the end of the line, involuntarily twisting his head to look off at the visiting team. Sure enough, they were off to the other side of the forest, Misty, Brock, and Tracey huddled together almost like they had they had a team of their own. Ash’s spirits fell as he saw this, but he quickly turned away and shook himself of it.

You’re gonna have fun, he told himself. Forget about the teams. Have fun!

“Hey Ash!”

Oh great . . .

Now what did he want? Ash lifted his head from watching his feet walk to see Gary walking towards him, smiling all the more. Ash wondered what was making him so damn happy . . .

“You all ready for this?” he asked, positioning himself alongside Ash as they continued on their way.

Ash decided to smile and go along with the happiness of the moment, rather than what he wished he had. After all, it could be worse. At least Gary wasn’t “himself” today, which Ash had feared, though Gary’s sudden buddy-buddy routine appeared somewhat odd. Couldn’t he find someone else on the team to converse with and leave him be to wallow on his own?

“Sure I am,” Ash replied happily instead, his confidence rising. “I’ve been waiting to do this for years.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Gary responded, his voice peaking with recollection. “This is your first time paintballing, ain’t it? Your ma finally letting ya go out?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ash replied, turning away from that remark. Like that needed to be considered, but no harm.

“It’s a lot of fun,” Gary continued. “Last year, especially. That was some day! Our team won, much like it does every year.”

Ash nodded, wiping some more sticky sweat off his brow. “Well, we should win this year, too, right?”

Gary shrugged, his eyes shutting with blissful assurance. “Sure! With the looks of the other team, doesn’t look like they have a prayer.”

Ash’s muscles tightened, and he chose not to respond to that. He didn’t know why, though, as the words touched him resentfully. The woods were looming now, and Ash took in the sights airily. As the team entered into the forest, Ash’s eagerness rose again. Not just for the purpose of the game, but that Gary would leave him and go off to do his own business. Ash was prepared to do this on his own, to make sure he’d get the good time he expected.

Just as he was about to embark out on his own, Gary’s voice halted him again. “Where are you going?”

Ash turned to him confusingly. “What do you mean? I’m going out to paintball.”

Gary threw his hand down, giving him a face. “Nah, stick with me. I’ll show you what a real paintballer looks like.”

“Come with you?” Ash repeated, a hint of disbelief brewing in his tone. His voice cracked again, and Ash instantly coughed to bolster it.

Gary shrugged. “Sure. Once I show ya how to really play, we’ll clean up in no time.”

What? Ash though disgustingly. As if things couldn’t get any worse, he didn’t know why he just didn’t bolt there and then. But Gary continued to summon him with his glimmering eyes, signaling him to follow with continuous waves of his hand. As he did, he started out into the woods deeper, his body slightly crouched as he entered the battle field.

In that moment, something took hold of Ash. The sight of Gary making his way into Professor Oak’s green forest and the feeling of adventure that complemented it stirred a familiar sentiment within him. Suddenly, he didn’t see it as the present situation it was; he was experiencing a scene from his childhood all over again, a scene that stimulated his yearn for fun and excitement. The recollection nagged at him, slowly bringing a small look of confusion to his face as he found himself following Gary . . . just as he had done in the blissfully innocent times before even preparing to be a Pokémon trainer.

There was just something pulling at him from inside, wanting him to follow. It was like the feeling that he’d had a young kid, the same feeling that had made following the boy older than him by nearly two years exciting. Where there was Gary, there was mischief and adventure . . . where there was adventure, there was fun. Ash felt himself being lured to Gary like a magnet, his sense of freedom detained by his inner desire for fun brought on by reminisce. He instinctively lagged behind, much as he always had, throwing his head about to spot the other players. Most, shockingly, had vanished from sight already, and Ash centered his attention on Gary again. He was not even looking back at him, and Ash still wondered why he was following at all.

Finally, Gary looked back, the sunlight gleaming from his eye-shield into Ash’s eyes. “Know what to do?”

Ash squinted, halting along with Gary. “Huh?”

Gary smirked. “The game. Know what to do?”

“Sure,” Ash replied sluggishly. “Hide in the woods and shoot at the other team.”

“Oh boy,” groaned Gary, sounding disconcerted. His head fell into his hands. “Ash, it’s not that simple. You have to go out there and plan a strategy! You go out thinking like that, and you’ll be down in no time!”

Ash blinked. “Gee, I didn’t know there was so much to it. I thought you just had fun shooting around at people.”

Gary looked shocked. “Go out and have fun?” he laughed in incredulity.

So much for reliving childhood . . .

“Obviously, you don’t know the seriousness behind this event, Ash!”

Guess I don’t, Ash thought despairingly, wondering again why he didn’t retreat on his own. He felt stuck now, much as he had the whole afternoon, and slumped. If Gary didn’t want to have fun, what was he getting himself into now? However, getting shot out immediately didn’t sound too appealing either. He tilted his head.

“C’mon,” Gary yawned, pulling his way through some shrubbery. Blinking again, Ash followed, nearly tripping through the shrubs.

No words were spoken between the two for quite a few minutes. Ash was close behind Gary, staring at his back as they trudged their way through the woods. It was all memorable to him, recalling a mish-mosh of scenes of he and Gary walking through these same woods as younger kids. Those had been good times, times that Ash wished he could have again, and his mind drifted in recollection again. It was all coming back to him, and he smiled.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Gary said, wrenching Ash from his memories. Unfortunately, there was another aspect of his wonderful reminiscing -- Gary’s orders. He was always the one in charge, after all. Ash didn’t understand why this was, but the sharp, yet ultimately harmless order took hold of him like always.

“Sure,” he said, shaking his head roughly. He scowled. “I mean . . .”

“What?”

Swallowing, Ash decided to do away with it. “Nothing,” he said softly, glancing down at his feet. Why wasn’t he off on his own? Thoughts of stalking about the woods and prowling down his friends sounded mighty enticing, so why was he here listening to and following Gary? Looking up and out into the woods, Ash realized how very easy it would be to just stop following Gary, who wasn’t even looking behind him anyway, and venture out on his own, enjoy the game as he had so rightfully planned.

Thinking about having this whole game in the control of Gary, supposedly getting advice on how to win a game he saw as fun and Gary saw as just another highly important challenge in life, and feeling miserable and trapped at the same time struck a resentful chord within Ash. To him, this day was going to be an adventure – a fun adventure – and it appeared now as it that weren’t so.

Lifting his head rigidly, Ash took a deep breath. He was going to get out of there, but sneakily drifting away from Gary was not going to be the way to take. “Gary--” he began.

Gary suddenly balked in front of him, inducing Ash to reel back. Gary’s hand shot out, smacking Ash harshly in the stomach.

“Get down!” Gary growled to the coughing Ash, dropping to the ground with a whoosh. Reaching out, Gary grabbed Ash’s shirt as he did, yanking the boy down viciously beside him.

“Wh-what?” Ash asked, his face skewed in disorientation. Gary’s sudden action left his mind spinning momentarily, and he tried to focus to grasp his bearings.

Gary glanced at him briefly, then narrowed his eyes determinedly through the bush they had hid behind. A crafty grin pulled at his lips. “Victim dead ahead.”

“Huh?” Ash said, gazing through the bush. Sure enough, he caught sight of a helpless player pulling himself though the bramble. His old teammate, Ash noted, although he had no clue as to whom he was. He remembered noticing him getting ready near him earlier that day. Now, the teen was walking softly, almost tip-toeing barely a hundred yards from them, his head twisting in all directions, completely oblivious to the fact that his enemies were studying his every step.

Gary chuckled, baring his teeth competitively. Lifting his gun to his head, he licked his lips. “This is going to be good,” he whispered.

Ash shifted his weight. “You’re gonna shoot?” he asked.

“Of course,” Gary replied, not looking at him. His eyes were following the boy hungrily. “What do you think I’m gonna do, ask him out?”

“No,” Ash responded. He didn’t actually know why he had asked that question. He was still unused to hunting down his old team, but he shook his head of it. Ash prepared himself as well, grasping his gun tightly and getting ready to attack. He wasn’t aware of what Gary was planning, but the way his face bundled strenuously at their victim, Ash wasn’t going to ask for the plan. He simply got ready to shoot, feeling the excitement finally catch up to him. This was going to be fun . . .

Pop. The sound caused Ash to flinch slightly and Gary to start back, but both the boys’ eyes were glued to the individual ahead. Neither could see the careening paintball as it tore through the air, but its collision posed no doubt. In the matter of a split second, the defenseless, unaware boy jerked backwards and fell to the ground after stumbling round a bit.

“Yes!” Gary cried victoriously, hopping to his feet and raising his gun in jubilant pride.

Ash remained on the ground, his gaze blaring at the victim rolling around in the brush just yonder, finally finding his feet and staggering around unsteadily after doing so. Ash cocked his head interestedly as he watched the boy bring his hand to his head, dazed. It was lowered, and immediately Ash caught sight of the big blotch of pink splashed on the helmet, squarely in the area above his ear.

“Got you! You’re out!” Gary snorted with a wide grin, hoisting his pointed thumb back in the direction of the camp. The boy bent down slightly and pulled off his helmet, almost arduously and slowly. He responded none to Gary’s incessant gloating, just stared down at the helmet, stunned by the suddenness of the irreversible blow.

Ash couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Not only did he feel a tad of compassion for the poor boy he’d once called his teammate, but something didn’t seem right in the scene that played before his eyes. It wasn’t right. Ash knew that immediately. The splatter of pink on the helmet was something he shouldn’t have seen, something that was not supposed to be. He kept silent of this as Gary continued to wear down the victim with his flashing smile, watching him shuffle his way from the bramble he had been residing and head back down towards the camp. Ash’s brow furrowed compassionately, almost feeling the pain and disappointment of being out so soon in the game.

“Haha!” Gary laughed heartily as he watched his victim leave the course, clapping his hands triumphantly. Glancing down at Ash, he cheered. “How bout that? Ever see something so perfect? That’s how you do it! That was the perfect shot!”

Ash opened his mouth to reply, knowing exactly what he was going to say. But he just halted as Gary jumped in place, thrusting his gun up and down into the air.

What are you doing? Ash thought rather despicably, thus encouraging the words from his mouth. “Gary,” he said, a short, incredulous chuckle escaping his lips. He shrugged briefly, his eyes wandering in shock.

Gary took deep breaths of happiness from his victory, squatting down beside Ash with just the same attitude. “What?” he asked, not waiting for Ash to continue. “Heh, wasn’t that just awesome? Can I shoot or what?”

You sure can, Ash thought. For someone aiming for the head.

“Um, yeah,” Ash answered, the dilemma of what had just occurred nagging in his mind. “It’s just that . . .”

“What?” Gary smiled. His high was hardly diminishing.

Ash didn’t understand how he could even be that happy or proud. What he had just done, after all, was completely against the rules, altogether unacceptable in the game itself. It was not just his mother’s demand that rang in his head, but the general standard that had been established before each and every game. Ash knew not to shoot in the head -- it was practically common sense that that wouldn’t be a wise choice. And he thought everyone understood that and abided by it . . . nothing was more dangerous than to shoot at someone unexpectedly in the head, helmet or no helmet.

As Ash stared into Gary’s radiant face, he was at a loss for words. Then again, who was he to say anything? Maybe it was just an accident, a faulty shot that had somehow found its target unintentionally, though successfully. Whether it was wrong or not, a hit to the head was indeed a hit, and the boy was out of the game. But it was Gary’s smile that upset Ash, wondering if he was just as happy with being aware of what he had done.

“Nothing,” Ash shook his head after a moment, deciding to throw the nonsensical account away. He put on a smile. “Good job.”

“Thanks, Ash,” Gary nodded, tossing his head about and scanning the area. He was silent for a second. “We should really leave this area. If that kid found any of his team, they’ll be sure to hunt us out.”

“Okay,” Ash agreed, following Gary as they stooped through the bushes and out into a clearing. They were cautious of how they walked and exposed themselves, eyeing for any suspicious moving and rustling. Ash found it exciting, the chill of danger and suspense cascading through his body. His stomach fluttered from the thrill, and he clutched his gun tightly in response.

The last appalling shot nearly washed itself of Ash’s mind as they wandered, as he was brought into an entirely new perspective. The heat engulfed them all around, and occasional tree clearings sent the broiling sun down upon their backs. Ash could feel his feet overheating within his tightly-bound boots, basking in the thought of how wonderful it would feel later to take them off. But that was far from now -- or so he hoped.

It was almost scary walking through those woods, causing Ash to figure that this was how an escaped fugitive felt. It wasn’t much different, actually -- here he was sneaking around with a gun in his hand, enemies lurking in unknown places, all wanting a piece of him. He began to tremble and stayed low, literally crawling now as he and Gary inched their way into a patch of bushes. Despite the pressure, however, Ash had a huge smile on his face.

Suddenly, Ash flinched as a flash of movement stirred in the corner of his eye. He was surprised at how much his heart jumped, and a new rush of adrenaline charged through his veins.

“I see someone!” he squeaked excitedly, and Gary halted immediately.

“Where?” he replied, ducking his head much further down than he needed to. He joined Ash in peering through the brush.

“Right ahead,” Ash said, not making any other movement to direct where he was staring. He didn’t need to though; Gary saw perfectly that there was someone prowling about fifty yards ahead. He didn’t quite see who it was yet, and he squinted attentively, scrutinizing as much as he could manage. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure if it was someone of the opposite team.

“He’s hiding pretty good,” Gary commented.

“Umm-hmmm,” Ash responded indifferently, more concentrated on making out who it was rather than discuss it with Gary. The individual was not moving much, and was keeping himself concealed excellently, as Gary had noted. If only he would raise his head a little more, Ash noticed, then . . . then he would know for sure.

But before his simple wish was granted, Ash didn’t even need it anymore. His eyes focused, and a small grin came to his lips. That stance . . . he knew that stance. He’d seen it before; heck, it was so familiar that he was dumbfounded that he hadn’t recognized it earlier. He was so busy registering in his mind that it was Tracey ahead of them that he didn’t even need the confirmation he got when Tracey did in fact lift his head just that little bit. His black hair, hence grown a bit longer, jutted from where the helmet released its press on it.

Alright, Ash thought with a burst of energy, beaming. He positioned his gun and licked his lips competitively.

“And another helpless victim going down,” Gary laughed under his breath, preparing for the attack as well. Ash smiled.

“It’s Tracey,” he informed in a whisper, inducing Gary’s attention to swing to him momentarily. He said nothing, though, as Ash continued. “I’m gonna get him!”

Gary stared at him for a second, watching Ash shift his weight around and stick his gun in the direction of Tracey. He looked over to see that Tracey was still stirring in the bushes, unaware that his two enemies were on to his every move. As his eyes darted from the incognizant prey to the grinning, cunningly concentrated predator, he flinched. His fingers itching around the trigger of his paintball gun, Gary leapt to his feet, pausing for only a short moment to clearly align his gun with a startled and taken Tracey and fire.

“Huh!? What?” Ash exclaimed in surprise, unintentionally firing his gun in response to Gary’s sudden vault. His shot, however, was anything but on target, blasting off in some wayward direction and into the wilderness. The gun nearly fell from Ash’s trembling hands, but he grabbed it fidgety.

“Alright!” Gary shouted, watching as a stunned Tracey shook himself of the surprise attack, righting himself.

Ash, in the meantime, rose to his feet without hesitation, curious to see what had happened just as much as he was peeved of the rude interruption of his shot. He couldn’t decide what to do first -- look to see if Tracey had hopefully escaped Gary’s completely uncalled-for shot or do what inclined him most: shove Gary to the ground for intruding on the most perfect opportunity he had to take one of his friends out.

“Hey!” the disgruntled tone of Tracey uproared, and Ash’s decision was made. His eyes widened in stupefaction as he witnessed Tracey stumble to his feet, much as the other teen had done just moments ago, his helmet splattered with that very familiar blob of hot-pink paint. The only difference, however, was Tracey’s look of doubtless agitation.

“What’s the big idea?” Tracey went on to exclaim angrily, reaching up to smear some of the pink paint with his hand as a confirmation. He glared at Gary. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Ash was speechless as he gawked at what was playing out before him. Tracey noticed him, but he was more concerned with Gary, who was calmly shrugging to his infuriated interrogation.

“What do you mean what am I doing?” Gary asked. “I’m playing the game, and I got you. You’re out.”

Tracey wasn’t going to accept that for one moment. “You shot me in the head!” he spat, his face flushing both from the shock and daze he was experiencing from the hit and his ire.

Gary laughed. It was a not a harmful laugh nor was in spiteful . . . just a simple chuckle from what he saw as nothing important. “So what?” he said. “I shot you.”

“You’re not supposed to shoot someone in the head!” Tracey scowled, lifting his eye-shield up and pulling himself from the shrubs. He made his way over to them, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter!” replied Gary. “You’re out. It doesn’t matter where I hit you.”

Ash still stood silently, his eyes flipping back and forth as the hostile words were exchanged. Tracey ducked his head and slipped his helmet off as he walked, shaking his sweaty hair free. Glancing down with one overwrought look at his helmet, he huffed.

Gary wasn’t so sure of what Tracey was doing. He backed up slowly. “Oh c’mon, Trace. What’s the problem?”

Tracey rolled his eyes. “There’s a big problem,” he replied. “Dude, you almost killed me!”

Ash couldn’t help the small smile that popped to his mouth. His and Tracey’s eyes met each other, and Ash gave him a quick nod and wearied look of tell-me-about-it. Licking his lips, Tracey tilted his head.

“Tracey,” Gary sighed, “I didn’t kill you. Stop being a sore loser.”

“I’m not being a sore loser,” Tracey grumbled, straightening himself. “I don’t care whether you got me or not, just . . . don’t shoot at my head, okay?” Ash could tell there was repose in Tracey’s tone; he didn’t want to start anything. That was good, but Ash was also glad to see that someone was telling Gary what he was doing wrong. All the more easier for Ash to put in his two cents and fortify the obvious argument.

“All right, I’m sorry, okay?” Gary shrugged in defense. “What else can I say?”

Tracey was silent for a moment, throwing a glance down at his helmet, which he was tapping softly against his leg. Reaching up with the heavy thing in his hand, he wiped his brow.

“You don’t have to say anything else,” he said calmly. He shrugged with his eyes. “It’s okay.”

Ash watched him turn away, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “Bye Tracey,” he said quietly.

Tracey looked over and smiled, giving Ash a thumbs-up. “Good luck, Ash. Don’t get yourself shot out. Misty an’ Brock are tracking ya down.”

“Heh, okay,” Ash smiled slightly. At least Misty and Brock were still in! His eyes followed Tracey as he walked off, plopping his helmet back onto his head for the trip back to camp.

There was a short quietness as Ash and Gary watched Tracey off, broken by a deep, long sigh emerging deep from Gary’s lungs.

“We’re good,” he grinned superciliously, his eyebrows rising excitedly.

Ash cocked his eye at him. We? he thought incredulously. There was no ‘we’ in what was going on here. He waited for Gary to return the odd gaze before speaking.

“What are you doing, Gary?” he asked, his voice silent and accusing. Gary drew back, smiling nervously.

“What?”

Ash took a short breath. “Why’re you shooting people in the head?”

Gary groaned agitatedly, his head dumping into his hands with one swift drop. His hands pressed up against the eye-shield, leaving damp imprints as he lifted them off.

“What is the big deal about that?” he exclaimed. The prints vanished quickly in the heat, exposing clearly his querying, yet humored, brown eyes. He chuckled. “Why are you people getting so worked up about this?”

So he wasn’t doing it accidently. Ash narrowed his eyes. “Because maybe it’s wrong?” he suggested. “You know, at first I thought it was accident what you did to that other kid, but now that you practically took off Tracey’s head, it obviously isn’t! Why are you doin’ that?”

Ash had to breathe deeply as he mouthed off his interrogation, finding his petulance grow as Gary’s smile widened even more.

“Ash, you gotta calm down,” said Gary, reaching out to facetiously retain his steaming friend. “Look, I’m not out to hurt anybody. I’m just having fun!”

“But you could hurt someone!” Ash objected, his voice cracking.

“Well, what do you think the helmets and eye-shields are for?” Gary asked, his tone still collected and laid back. “For decoration?”

No, Ash retorted to himself, to keep people from losing their faces from shots like yours. “They’re there for protection. But that doesn’t mean that you can shoot at people’s heads on a whim!”

He continued to glare at Gary, who simply stared back at him impassively. Suddenly, to Ash’s shock, he began to laugh, gritting his teeth visibly to hold in his jaunty chortling.

“Ash, you’re funny,” he said between the giggles, slapping Ash’s helmet playfully. Ash retreated from the gesture, be it friendly or not. He didn’t see anything funny with the matter, and in that moment, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be there anymore.

“It’s not funny,” Ash mumbled in response, turning away from Gary. “You might hurt someone.” He quieted after that, his eyes roaming the area to make sure that no one had snuck up while they were talking. He didn’t know if he’d be able to contain his anger if he’d gotten shot out after trying to right wrongs.

“I’m not gonna hurt anyone,” Gary replied quickly, ending his last word sharply. That meant the discussion was over. “You should just be happy that we’re doing so great! You’re letting these dumb things ruin the fun. Our team’s probably winning!”

Ash didn’t even look at him as he said that -- his resentment was steadily rising . . . too much.

“How can I have fun if you won’t even let me shoot?” he mumbled coldly, much so that Gary couldn’t even make it out.

“Hmm?” he asked.

Ash shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, running his finger dispiritedly up and down the barrel of his paintball gun. If only he could use it for something meaningful, get into the game and truly be a part of it. Shooting Tracey out would have been a lot of fun, the kind of fun he’d be expecting, but he wasn’t even given the opportunity. Was that how it was going to be the whole day? Would he ever get a legitimate shot out?

Not with Gary around he wouldn’t. Ash could still tell by the way his voice was unwavering and proud that the shadows of the trees weren’t the only shadows hanging over him. Gary would have been fun to be around, Ash believed. After all, Ash had had fun with him for years. But when competition seeped from Gary Oak’s pores, there was no question that Ash was the underling. There was no stopping Gary from enjoying the game as most all the other kids were doing, laughing and stomping through the brush. Ash would’ve loved that doing that with him. Deep down, he wanted to have fun with Gary again. It was a shame Gary’s hunger to win subdued his desire to have a good time.

But that’s not going to be me, Ash finally decided determinedly, narrowing his eyes at nothing in particular and rising to his feet.

“Where ya going?” Gary asked, giving him a look.

Ash looked down at him for a moment before he lied, “Gonna stake out the area.”

“Oh.” Gary’s eyes fell. “Okay.”

Ash crouched as he walked, his back screaming with pain. It wasn’t a comfortable position for him, but Ash wanted to get away from Gary as fast as possible and not get shot out in the meantime. He didn’t mind the ache for the short time that he had it.

Have fun Gary, Ash thought sincerely. He did want Gary to have fun . . . but he wanted to have more fun. See ya when my team kicks your butt!

He grinned mischievously.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .