Star Performer (T)

Thanks for the kind words! I was actually super stoked with the prologue, and despite being written over two years ago I look at it today like 'yeah I'm still proud of this' which never happens with my writing.

Without further ado, I'll be posting the rest of the chapters (seven complete) reasonably quickly till I'm caught up. Twice a week or so probably, to avoid spamming.

“...lex. Alexander! Oi, Earth to Alex!”

Alex jumped violently as someone poked him in the forehead. Scowling, he batted the offending hand away. “What’s the big deal?”

“You’re sleeping on the job, that’s the big deal!” Drawing herself up to her full height of five foot nothing, Veronique Vincent crossed her arms and raised one carefully manicured eyebrow.

Alex pushed a lock of limp blond hair out of his face, glancing up at her with no little irritation. “I’m not ‘on the job’, Veronique. I haven’t been ‘on the job’ since five o’clock and it’s now . . . nearly nine thirty,” he grumbled, checking his watch tiredly.

Raising her eyebrow even further than Alex would have thought possible, Veronique spoke with a touch of ice. “Your job does not end until the doors close, Mr. Grand-Festival-Runner-Up. The media are waiting outside that door right now to get your statement, and the only person keeping them out is also rapidly losing her patience with you.”

Sighing, Alex dragged himself to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, nodding in reluctant acquiescence. At five feet four inches, he was noticeably taller than the girl scowling at him across the dressing room, though still shorter than most. A light-featured, feminine face with piercing green eyes framed by floppy blond hair that had once combined to attract the ire of bullies at several different schools now served to make him one of the most popular Contest stars in the Hoenn region - especially among young women. Last he’d heard, his fan club’s membership was some two-thirds the size of Wallace’s, the famous Sootopolis Coordinator and Gym Leader against whom all rising stars measured themselves. He would not have known any of this, of course - he had no real interest in his legions of admirers - had it not been for Mlle. Vincent here, fan club member #00001, incumbent president, and his self-appointed manager.

“Fine, fine,” Alex said with a grimace. “I’ll talk to them.”

Veronique nodded, pleased. “And?” she prompted.

Alex blinked. “And?” he repeated blankly.

“‘Merci, Veronique, for letting me sleep off my angst and run away from my problems’,” she suggested with a grin, poking him in the chest with her index finger.

Sighing again - but in better humour this time - Alex snaked a hand past Veronique’s guard and ruffled her blue-black hair affectionately. “Thank you, Veronique,” he said, and he meant it. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do about this whole thing yet, but there was a part of him that knew he’d be able to get through it, so long as Veronique was there to pick him up every time he stumbled. He’d be damned if he let her know that, though; her smugness could be unbearable as it was.

“There’s one more thing,” she said, a shadow crossing her face as she shook his hand off. “We need to talk.”

Alex cocked his head curiously. “Oh? What is it?”

Veronique bit her lip, clearly debating whether to spit it out. After a few seconds, though, she shook her head, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the door. “You don’t get to distract me that easily, mon ami. Go give your interviews while I call a taxi. We can talk back at the hotel.”

“Right,” Alex said. Turning to the floor-to-ceiling mirror that covered an entire wall of the dressing room, he fiddled with his hair and did his best to smooth his crumpled jacket. “Do I look . . . presentable?”

Veronique chuckled, a warm, genuine sound tinged with the barest hint of sarcasm. “Your eyes are red and your outfit looks like it hasn’t been pressed in a week. Other than that, you’re perfectly handsome.” Gripping the tails of his jacket, she yanked on them sharply in an attempt to straighten the garment out, but only succeeded in almost unbalancing Alex, who could only yelp and cling to his chair to stay upright.

“Gods, woman,” he grumbled, giving Veronique a light shove in the small of her back to steer her towards the side door. “All right, go call our taxi. I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”

Veronique rolled her eyes. “That’s optimistic. You just placed second at the Grand Festival, they’re not gonna let you go that easily!” she called over her shoulder as she exited, already fiddling with her cellphone.

“Oh, I’ll make them,” he muttered darkly as he strode towards the door.

To Alex’s surprise and dull delight, there were only three journalists waiting in the hallway, pretty young women like he had seen at every Contest and society event ever. Despite varying greatly in looks, stature and dress, something about their bearing seemed oddly identical. Perhaps it was the way they all looked up as he opened the door, necks twisting at the same attentive angle. Maybe the way they all hurriedly flipped open their notepads and tore off pages of scribbles as they hurried over to him. Mentally slapping himself on both cheeks, Alex forced himself to focus, turning on his thousand-watt grin and greeting them with as much warmth as he could muster. “Good evening, ladies - and gentlemen,” he added, seeing an older man with a portable - yet still enormous - TV camera lurking behind the others. “I’m sorry for the delay, as I’m sure you must all want to be at home right now. What can I do for you all?”

The first woman, a slim brunette with her hair in a stiff, professional bun, stepped forward and proffered a portable voice recorder. “I’m Claire Jones, from the Lilycove Bugle. Our readers will remember you from previous years - how does it feel to come up short for the third Grand Festival in a row?”

Alex felt a vein in his forehead twitch with irritation, but refused to let his smile falter. “It’s only a little disheartening, I guess,” he lied. “If I felt like the outcome was unfair, I’d be more upset, but in truth, I was pretty soundly defeated. I have no regrets on that front. It does sting a little to lose after making the final eight yet again, but there’s always next year.” Without meaning to, he echoed the hollow words that had been bouncing around his skull all evening. Next year. What did that even mean?

Apparently Claire Jones was on the same wavelength, because she immediately pressed on. “So you’re planning to compete in next year’s Grand Festival in Slateport? Could this defeat be the motivation you need to finally make it to the top?”

“I . . . have no plans set in stone right now,” Alex said carefully. “I think, at the very least, I need a holiday. It’s been a tiring few months leading up to this year’s Grand Festival, so I need to unwind a little.”

The second woman smoothly elbowed her way past Claire. She didn’t have a voice recorder, but she directed Alex’s attention to the TV camera with a subtle gesture as she introduced herself. “Bibi Cheltenham, Channel Five News. Can I take this opportunity to address certain rumours that have been circulating lately regarding your retirement?”

Alex frowned, genuinely caught off guard as he attempted to turn his good side to the camera. “I’ve heard no such rumours,” he said with complete honesty. “I’m nearing the peak of my career, if today’s performance is anything to go by. I’d have to be mad to consider retiring now.”

With a slightly sly grin, Bibi Cheltenham started in on another question, but she was interrupted by the third woman - no, a girl, Alex realised, probably about his age or even younger. “Um, hi! I’m Katie, from your fanclub. Number 87. I’m not from a newspaper or anything, but I have a blog, and, uh, I was hoping you’d let me, um . . .” She tailed off meekly under the glares of the two other women, but Alex welcomed the distraction.

“Of course, Katie,” he said kindly, offering her an encouraging smile. “What was your question?”

Brushing a wild strand of curly blonde hair behind her ear - a strangely endearing gesture, Alex thought idly - Katie blushed crimson and flipped rapidly through her notebook. “Uh, it’s here somewhere! I’m sorry, I just - I had it written down so I wouldn’t forget it and oh, gosh! I just- ah, here it is!”

“Take your time,” Alex said. He felt that strange irritation gnawing at him again, a sort of baseless annoyance he couldn’t quite quantify. He should be used to this by now, right?

“Right!” Katie cleared her throat, took several deep breaths, then cleared her throat again. “Okay. So, like, the retirement thing. I’m, wow, I’m glad you’re not thinking about retiring. But it’s true that people online - on the forums and stuff - have been, like, talking about it. Some people - not me, just some people - are saying that if you were ever gonna win a Grand Festival, you would have done it already, and that it’s never going to happen now because you’re past your prime and, like, on the decline.” The words came out in a torrent as Alex fought to keep his face straight. She continued, “I mean, obviously I don’t believe any of that or anything! You nearly won today, after all! I just wondered, if you could give one message to the people saying those things, what would it be?”

Alex blinked, trying not to let on how much the question had rattled him. She doesn’t mean anything by it, he reminded himself. She doesn’t know that nobody thinks that more than I do. She doesn’t know I’ve told myself those things every day for the last year. How could she? Even Veronique doesn’t . . .

Realising that Katie and the others were still waiting on a reply, Alex forced a chuckle. “I’d tell them to watch the VOD from this week’s matches, because they clearly haven’t been keeping up with the times. I’ll-”

Alex choked, his mouth suddenly dry. Covering the pause up with a demure cough, he continued on a different tack. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do with my Pokémon, but I’ll keep moving forward. I’m really grateful to those who’ve supported me so far, and I hope they’ll continue to do so in the future.”

Why? Why couldn’t I say ‘I’ll definitely come back and win the Grand Festival next year’ like I do every year? Is this really the last time?

Bibi Cheltenham of Channel Five re-inserted herself into his field of vision, steering him back towards the camera. “So, about your opponent in this evening’s final . . .”



The knock on Alex’s door came just as he was getting into bed. He had almost forgotten that Veronique wanted to talk, but the details came rushing back into his sleepy mind in a split second.

“Come in,” he called, after making sure he was decent and everything was more or less tidy. Veronique entered, looking rather less glamorous than usual in blue flannel pajamas and wooly socks. Her silky dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her usual harsh makeup had been scrubbed off. For a second, she was the girl he remembered from fifteen years ago, innocent and unguarded. Then she shot him a glare, and the illusion disappeared.

“What are you smirking at?” she asked, seating herself primly at the foot of his bed and scowling suspiciously.

“Nothing much,” he said blithely. “Just wondering what the rest of the fanclub would think if they saw us now.”

“Oh?” Veronique’s tone took on a dangerous edge as her eyes narrowed. “And just what might they be thinking?”

“I’m sure they’d be jealous. I’ve read some of those blogs, you know. I can’t even look sideways at a girl without starting the rumour mill, and here you are sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.”

Veronique let out a bark of laughter. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” Alex retorted, waggling his eyebrows.

Laughter turned to mock gagging as Veronique leaned forward and punched him in the arm. “Blech! You are incorrigible.”

“That your new favourite word?”

“It’s a classic, actually. Did you know it came from Old Kalosian?”

“I absolutely did not,” he admitted. “That would explain why you like it so much, at least.”

“Yeah . . .” Veronique took a deep breath, a shadow passing across her face. “Look, Alex, I’ve been meaning to bring this up for a while now, but there was never a good time to do it, what with the Grand Festival and everything keeping us so busy.”

Alex tilted his head slightly, but remained silent. Veronique enjoyed their back-and-forth ribbing - he wouldn’t bother to do it otherwise - but it was plain that she was getting ready to do some serious talking.

“I’m . . . going home to Coumarine. In Kalos.”

“Oh.” That’s all you’re going to say?

“Yeah. Next week. I’ve been . . . called back.”

“Called back?” Stumped, Alex could do little more than echo Veronique’s words back at her.

“By my mother. Papa is ill, and I need to come home to help support the family business until he gets better. Or . . .”

She had let the alternative go unspoken, but Alex read it in her face. And if he doesn’t get better? He kept that quiet too. “The bakery, right?”

“It’s a pâtisserie, technically, but yes.”

Alex chewed this over for a moment. “Well, that’s difficult,” was all he could say. He cursed his lack of eloquence and continued hurriedly, “I mean, it’s not like I have any claim on you. You do a lot for me, but it’s not like you have to. And I could manage without you for a while. I’m not going to be entering any Contests for a month or two at least.” The words sounded hollow, even to him. As much as he hated to admit it, he relied heavily on Veronique’s help.

“You misunderstand me, mon ami,” she said, holding up a single index finger to silence him. There was a glint in her eye now, the darkness passing. “I have an idea. I just read Katie’s blog, you know.”

“Katie . . . that girl from before? Wait, already? She works fast!” Alex exclaimed.

“What do I always tell you? Don’t underestimate fangirls,” Veronique admonished him. “Anyway, seems like you had some interesting things to say in that interview. I let you out of my sight for ten minutes . . .”

Alex did his best to look guilty. “Sorry. I was really tired. I still am, to be honest. This is taking a lot of processing. Did I say something bad?”

Veronique tapped her chin with a finger. “Non. Not bad, no. Just curious. So you were serious about taking a break?”

Alex nodded. “For a little while, at least. I’m burned out on Contests right now, I’d just run myself into the ground if I tried to keep competing right now - especially without you around.” He noticed her swell slightly with pride at the comment, but he felt she needed the boost. Despite the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, she still seemed a little melancholy.

“Oh, you flatterer! But listen, hey . . .” Veronique actually looked uncomfortable now, refusing to meet his eyes. She took a deep breath, then blurted out, “How about you come and take that holiday in Kalos?”

Alex blinked. For a moment, he was dumbfounded. “Are you serious?” It was so far out of left field, he hadn’t even considered it. Travelling to the other side of the world for R&R? He had been thinking more . . . Pacifidlog, or somewhere equally remote - but still local! Kalos was hundreds, if not thousands of miles away. An entirely different culture, different people, different Pokémon . . .

“Completely serious!” Veronique leaned forward, seizing his hand in both of hers with a sudden eagerness. “Come on, it’ll be fun! There’s nothing like a Kalos holiday to take your mind off things. Plus you can meet my parents again. How long has it been now since they’ve seen you?”

Alex frowned, trying not to focus on how uncomfortably close she was. “Five years, maybe? The last time you moved back here?”

“Exactly! They’d love to see you. And it’s perfect timing, since the Grand Festival is over and you wanted to take some time off anyway. We can hang out in Coumarine, I’ll introduce you to some of my old friends. We can go see the Gyms, watch a Pokémon Showcase, maybe even take a day trip to Lumiose! It’ll be amazing!”

At some point, Alex noticed, the promise to work in her parents’ pâtisserie had fallen by the wayside. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It’s not like I can’t afford it, but the time . . .”

“Alex,” Veronique said seriously. “I’m not just saying this for my sake, you know. I’ve been watching you more closely than anyone else, and you’re going to self-destruct if you keep this up. Like an Electrode. Boom! I can’t let you do that. This trip will be good for you, and it’s not like you have to stay. Once you’re properly relaxed and unwound, you can come back to Hoenn ahead of me. Even if I have to stay on in Kalos . . .” She trailed off, having talked herself into a dark corner again.

Alex nodded. It made perfect sense. More than that, he had no reason to refuse. It was true that if he let her go by herself, he would just end up wasting time in some quiet corner of Hoenn. “Maybe Kalos is what I need after all.”

Veronique brightened up instantly. “So you’ll go?” she said excitedly.

Alex smiled, and for the first time that night, it felt real. “Yeah. Let’s go to Kalos.”