“Why do you want to be a what? Pokémon Master?” The older teen sneered at Tyler. The boy with dark hair, glared up at the man from his chair. This chair, was what most people referred to as a wheelchair. A common tool for someone who was disable, and to be more particular, unable to use their legs. Tyler’s legs looked fine, when they were clothed. However they were much thinner, and almost skeletal under the cloth.
The Herdier at Tyler’s feet rolled back his lips and gave a deep growl at the teen. He may have not been a violent Pokemon, and overall was quite a good tempered friend, but he didn’t like people making Tyler feel bad. It wasn’t fair for the boy. It was the fault of an abusive father who had drank too much one night.
Tyler examined the teen's eyes, and smiled. “I don’t think you can comprehend my way of thinking. My goals are farther than this wheelchair. Physical limits are all in the mind. I can push through them. Just watch.” The boy was resilient. He had spent years, trying to cope with all that had happened to him. He was assigned a Lillipup to act as a coping mechanism, but Tyler used it as a way to further his dreams. He had trained the Pokemon until it was a Herdier and it was the only real friend Tyler could rely on. Good ol’ Rusty.
“Big talk. That’s all you have. Like your mutt over there,” The older boy stuck his thumb out towards Rusty, who’s growling had steadily increased. “I’m out.” And with that the older boy left.
This was pretty much Tyler’s daily life in school. Older boys often picked on him, like that guy, who was known as Michael. Kids saw him as a target to pick on, while the rest and most adults saw him as a sad case. This wasn’t fair for Tyler. But as much as he hated how the way life worked for him, he accepted it. He knew that the only way he could shift their opinions was becoming something great.
Glancing at the clock at the corner of the room, he saw it was growing near the time to get to class. He gave a short sharp whistle to get Rusty’s attention and rolled to class. Using his hands to push the wheels forward through the halls. While doctors and the woman in charge of his physical therapy had recommended he got a Pokemon like Lopunny or Chansey to push his chair, he politely refused. He was determined to be independent. So now his only friend was pretty much Rusty, his service Pokemon.
Tyler spent the rest of the day, doodling in his journal and daydreaming. His head was stuffed full of ideas of training, imagining battles, and random facts about Pokemon. He wasn’t really focusing on his studies. His parents had made the decision for him to go the college and get a real job. Not become a professional pet owner.
By the time school was out, Tyler hadn’t learned anything useful to fulfill his parent's dream. And after school, he decided to follow through with his regular routine. Take the long way home, stopping at Sharon’s Deli to pick up a milkshake, and head home, going through the park to let Rusty run about. There was something peaceful about this routine that helped him stay sane.
“Well if it isn’t Tyler. Let me guess. Want a vanilla milkshake, no cherry?” The busy woman said, upon Tyler’s arrival in the deli. The woman’s name was Berta and she was the daughter of Sharon, the woman who started this deli, fifty years ago. And now, her daughter ran it,.
“Yup, the usual,” Tyler said rolling to the kiddie counter. One of the few reasons Tyler liked this place, was that Berta was fair. She thought that everyone should be treated the same, and served the same. So when she began to run things, she made a end of the counter called the kiddie counter. It was pretty much a shorter counter for anyone in a wheelchair or for kids, who would have trouble sitting in the big chairs but the rest of the counter. The chairs were spaced widely apart enough, so Tyler could slide in.
“Okay, one vanilla, no cherry.” Berta said, placing the vanilla shake, what was held in a styrofoam cup, down in front of Tyler. “$2.63.” Berta said. Tyler handed her the money and grabbed the milkshake. After a bit of banter, Tyler said goodbye and both him and Rusty left.
He rolled through the park, sipping his drink. Today was just another day. Or like the age old cliche goes, or was it?
Michael was at the park, and Tyler passed him. He kept his eyes on him as he passed. It looked like he was up to no good, but there was nothing Tyler could do.
“C’mon kid. Give me your money.” Michael shouted to a younger kid, maybe a fifth grader. The boy looked nervous having to deal with the older kid, who was bigger and more threatening.
“But, this is m-my allowance. It’s all I-I got.” The boy stammered. At this point, he was shaking pretty bad.
Tyler at this point was fed up. The bullying, the mocking, the fact that assholes like Michael took whatever chance they had to pick on the weak.
By this time, Michael had sent out his Riolu to help intimidate the kid. “I challenge you, Rusty, Bite!” The Herdier took immediate action and leapt towards the Riolu, aiming to attack him.
“Ready, Force Palm!” Michael shouted, jumping into fighting stance. Riolu raised his arm and slammed it into Herdier. The dog flew backwards, crashing into Tyler’s chest.
Tyler’s wheelchair slowly began to tip, and Michael rushed forward. For a split second, Tyler had the strangest notion. That Michael was going to help him. Which was partly the case. Michael’s hands caught the wheelchair, and he shot Tyler a grin.
“If you’re gonna fall, I need to be the one to push you,” he said sickeningly. Then he pushed forward, and Tyler began to tip, but this time, no one would catch him. Tyler’s back smashed against the back of the chair, and his head hit the ground hard. Tyler was dazed, and the back of his head felt cold, like it was in mush. He had landed in his fallen milkshake. “Don’t make me laugh,” Michael said, walking away. Tyler couldn’t see him, but could hear his footsteps leaving and hear the sickening laugh.
But this wouldn't stop Tyler. His journey was just beginning. He would get stronger. Despite any labels thrown his way.
The Herdier at Tyler’s feet rolled back his lips and gave a deep growl at the teen. He may have not been a violent Pokemon, and overall was quite a good tempered friend, but he didn’t like people making Tyler feel bad. It wasn’t fair for the boy. It was the fault of an abusive father who had drank too much one night.
Tyler examined the teen's eyes, and smiled. “I don’t think you can comprehend my way of thinking. My goals are farther than this wheelchair. Physical limits are all in the mind. I can push through them. Just watch.” The boy was resilient. He had spent years, trying to cope with all that had happened to him. He was assigned a Lillipup to act as a coping mechanism, but Tyler used it as a way to further his dreams. He had trained the Pokemon until it was a Herdier and it was the only real friend Tyler could rely on. Good ol’ Rusty.
“Big talk. That’s all you have. Like your mutt over there,” The older boy stuck his thumb out towards Rusty, who’s growling had steadily increased. “I’m out.” And with that the older boy left.
This was pretty much Tyler’s daily life in school. Older boys often picked on him, like that guy, who was known as Michael. Kids saw him as a target to pick on, while the rest and most adults saw him as a sad case. This wasn’t fair for Tyler. But as much as he hated how the way life worked for him, he accepted it. He knew that the only way he could shift their opinions was becoming something great.
Glancing at the clock at the corner of the room, he saw it was growing near the time to get to class. He gave a short sharp whistle to get Rusty’s attention and rolled to class. Using his hands to push the wheels forward through the halls. While doctors and the woman in charge of his physical therapy had recommended he got a Pokemon like Lopunny or Chansey to push his chair, he politely refused. He was determined to be independent. So now his only friend was pretty much Rusty, his service Pokemon.
Tyler spent the rest of the day, doodling in his journal and daydreaming. His head was stuffed full of ideas of training, imagining battles, and random facts about Pokemon. He wasn’t really focusing on his studies. His parents had made the decision for him to go the college and get a real job. Not become a professional pet owner.
By the time school was out, Tyler hadn’t learned anything useful to fulfill his parent's dream. And after school, he decided to follow through with his regular routine. Take the long way home, stopping at Sharon’s Deli to pick up a milkshake, and head home, going through the park to let Rusty run about. There was something peaceful about this routine that helped him stay sane.
“Well if it isn’t Tyler. Let me guess. Want a vanilla milkshake, no cherry?” The busy woman said, upon Tyler’s arrival in the deli. The woman’s name was Berta and she was the daughter of Sharon, the woman who started this deli, fifty years ago. And now, her daughter ran it,.
“Yup, the usual,” Tyler said rolling to the kiddie counter. One of the few reasons Tyler liked this place, was that Berta was fair. She thought that everyone should be treated the same, and served the same. So when she began to run things, she made a end of the counter called the kiddie counter. It was pretty much a shorter counter for anyone in a wheelchair or for kids, who would have trouble sitting in the big chairs but the rest of the counter. The chairs were spaced widely apart enough, so Tyler could slide in.
“Okay, one vanilla, no cherry.” Berta said, placing the vanilla shake, what was held in a styrofoam cup, down in front of Tyler. “$2.63.” Berta said. Tyler handed her the money and grabbed the milkshake. After a bit of banter, Tyler said goodbye and both him and Rusty left.
He rolled through the park, sipping his drink. Today was just another day. Or like the age old cliche goes, or was it?
Michael was at the park, and Tyler passed him. He kept his eyes on him as he passed. It looked like he was up to no good, but there was nothing Tyler could do.
“C’mon kid. Give me your money.” Michael shouted to a younger kid, maybe a fifth grader. The boy looked nervous having to deal with the older kid, who was bigger and more threatening.
“But, this is m-my allowance. It’s all I-I got.” The boy stammered. At this point, he was shaking pretty bad.
Tyler at this point was fed up. The bullying, the mocking, the fact that assholes like Michael took whatever chance they had to pick on the weak.
By this time, Michael had sent out his Riolu to help intimidate the kid. “I challenge you, Rusty, Bite!” The Herdier took immediate action and leapt towards the Riolu, aiming to attack him.
“Ready, Force Palm!” Michael shouted, jumping into fighting stance. Riolu raised his arm and slammed it into Herdier. The dog flew backwards, crashing into Tyler’s chest.
Tyler’s wheelchair slowly began to tip, and Michael rushed forward. For a split second, Tyler had the strangest notion. That Michael was going to help him. Which was partly the case. Michael’s hands caught the wheelchair, and he shot Tyler a grin.
“If you’re gonna fall, I need to be the one to push you,” he said sickeningly. Then he pushed forward, and Tyler began to tip, but this time, no one would catch him. Tyler’s back smashed against the back of the chair, and his head hit the ground hard. Tyler was dazed, and the back of his head felt cold, like it was in mush. He had landed in his fallen milkshake. “Don’t make me laugh,” Michael said, walking away. Tyler couldn’t see him, but could hear his footsteps leaving and hear the sickening laugh.
But this wouldn't stop Tyler. His journey was just beginning. He would get stronger. Despite any labels thrown his way.
