She even had the nerve to come by and say 'Hi" on occasions. I was polite. If she asked to sit down, I still stood up, as I had class; maybe it woul... rub off on her. Probably not. As an odd end to this story, the Monday before Thanksgiving, 1982, Val walked up to me in the cafeteria. Of course, she asked if she could join me. I said she could (I thought to myself she has nerve), so I stood up and pulled out the chair for her to sit and slid it under her. Val said she was sorry about. She had a point. “If we do this, then that’s it,” I let the words tumble out of my mouth like heavy rocks dislodging from my throat. “I don’t want another fight.”She beamed at those words. “Yes! Trust me, I hate fighting. I’m not very good at it. I’m burning up inside, and I need you to stop it.”“I don’t understand,” I frowned, palm aching from how hard I clutched the crystal that had saved me twice so far. “Why me? You’re in heat, right? Why not a male Pokemon?”“Mmm, you must be new here,” she. More

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