by Alex Polan
This book is not authorized or sponsored by The Pokémon Company International, Nintendo of America, Inc., Nintendo/Creatures Inc., or any other person or entity owning or controlling rights in the Pokémon characters, name, trademarks, or copyrights.
Copyright © 2016 by Hollan Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the author’s imagination, and used fictitiously.
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
Special thanks to Erin L. Falligant.
Cover illustration by Matt Armstrong
Cover design by Brian Peterson
Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-1482-3
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-1484-7
Printed in Canada
CHAPTER ONE
Dear Mom and Dad,
Our team challenge at Camp Pikachu this weekend is pretty fun—Poke´mon Orienteering! We get to hike in the woods, canoe at the lake, and even explore a cave to find Poke´mon that the counselors hid for us. We have to beat Team Fennekin if we want to make it into the Summer Camp Hall of Fame!
But … there’s one little problem.
Tomorrow, we have to try to capture Cresselia, a Legendary Poke´mon, on Crescent Isle. We get to the island by crossing the lake. On a ZIP LINE.
And, well, you know how I feel about heights.
Marco tapped his pencil against his chin, rereading what he wrote. He sighed and crossed out the last few lines. Then he wrote something else.
Tomorrow, we get to ride a ZIP LINE. Awesome! Good thing I’m not afraid of heights anymore, right? Phew!
Marco reread the letter. It sounded pretty good this time. If only it were true, he thought sadly. As he flipped over his pencil to erase the crossed out paragraph, he ripped a giant hole in the paper.
Great.
He crumpled up the letter just as his roommate, Logan, burst through the door of the cabin. “Let’s go, buddy! Time for orienteering!”
Logan’s cheeks were flushed and his sandy-brown hair messy, like usual. That’s because he was always on the move. He didn’t even shut the door behind him.
Marco was about to do it for him when Nisha and Maddy, the other half of Team Treecko, hurried through. Nisha tucked her lime-green T-shirt into her shorts as she eyed the notebook on Marco’s desk. “Are you writing a letter for the Wingull?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’m trying to, but … I mean, there’s not much to write about yet. Maybe later.”
Maddy cocked her blonde head like a curious puppy. “Could a Wingull really carry our letters home, like a pigeon?”
“Don’t be silly. Wingulls aren’t real,” Nisha said gently. “It’s just what our counselors call the mailbox to make letter writing more fun.”
Marco hid his smile. As the youngest camper, Maddy had a huge imagination. Sometimes it ran away from her here at Camp Pikachu. But so does mine, he reminded himself, thinking about that zip line.
Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured himself on it—wobbling from a wire about a mile above the water. Don’t look down! he’d tell himself. But he always did—just before hearing the click and zip of the harness slipping off the wire.
Marco’s daydream always ended the same way—with falling. His stomach lurched just thinking about it.
“Are you okay?” asked Nisha, her eyes narrowed.
“Um, yeah,” said Marco. “Too many pancakes this morning, I think.”
She patted her own stomach. “Yeah, me, too.”
That’s when Marco noticed the gloves on her hands. Gloves? In the middle of summer? Before he could ask about them, Logan popped up in the middle of the group holding a shiny red camera.
“Say cheese! I mean, say Treecko!”
“Logan!” laughed Nisha. “That Pokédex is for orienteering.” But she squished in next to Maddy for the team photo.
“I wish it really were a Pokédex,” Logan said, checking out the photo on the camera screen.
“But it’s cool that it works underwater,” Marco pointed out. He couldn’t wait to take the camera to the lake.
“And it’s cool that we got the red one, like Ash in the cartoons,” Logan admitted. “Team Fennekin got stuck with boring black.”
“Hey! We should call it ‘Dex’!” said Maddy.
Logan’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Good idea, Maddy!”
She beamed as if he’d just paid her the world’s greatest compliment. As she took a step toward him, he took a bigger step away, looking like he already wished he could eat his words.
Marco chuckled. Everyone knew Maddy had a huge crush on Logan. He turned to Marco with wild “save me!” eyes.
Marco cleared his throat. “So, do we have everything we need for today?” he asked. “Does someone have the map?”
“Check,” said Nisha, patting her pocket.
“How about the compass?”
Logan’s eyebrows shot up. He dug his hand into his left pocket, and then his right. “Check!” he said, pulling out the round plastic compass.
“And I have the stopwatch,” said Marco, pulling it out of his pocket. “Remember not to lose any of our orienteering tools—Professor Birch said we’ll lose points if we do.” As he hung the stopwatch securely on a lanyard around his neck, he asked, “Do we need anything from the Poké Mart?”
“We already went,” said Maddy. “Nisha bought Repel for the woods. It stops wild Pokémon from attacking us—or something like that.”
Nisha pulled the green spray can from her backpack. “In other words,” she said, “it protects us from mosquitoes.”
“Yeah, that’s what it does,” said Maddy, nodding. “And I bought Lava Cookies.”
“Surprise, surprise,” said Marco, grinning. Maddy had the team’s biggest sweet tooth. Luckily, she was pretty good about sharing—especially with Logan. “No Poké Puffs today?” he asked, which was a fancy name for cupcakes here at Camp Pikachu.
Maddy shook her head. “Lava Cookies are easier to bring,” she said. “They don’t get smushed.”
Marco couldn’t argue with that.
As Nisha shook the can of Repel, he noticed her gloved hands again. “What’s with the gloves?” he asked. “Isn’t it going to be like seventy degrees today?”
Nisha just sighed and stuck her hands into the pockets of her shorts, so Maddy answered for her.
“She’s trying to stop biting her nails. But it’s hard because her brain doesn’t work when she stops chewing her nails. And she needs her brain to come up with good inventions for us so we can win.”
Nisha shot Maddy a look.
“What?” asked Maddy, spreading her arms wide. “It’s true!”
Logan was all ears. “What did you invent for us this time? Something that explodes? Or flies? Or, hey, how about a robot? Please, please, please say it’s a robot!” He clasped his hands in his usual dramatic way.
; Nisha shook her head. “I’m not telling you until we actually need them. What if they don’t work? Then you’d be disappointed!”
“They’ll work,” said Maddy. “Your inventions always work.” She cupped her hand by Logan’s ear and whispered, “She used 3-D glasses for one of them.”
“Maddy!” Nisha scolded. “Don’t give it away.”
“I didn’t!” said Maddy. “Just about the glasses.”
Nisha sighed. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll show you the Night Goggles.”
“Night Goggles?” Marco was curious now, too.
“Yeah, they’re for Pokémon Orienteering in the cave,” she explained.
When she pulled a pair of cardboard 3-D glasses from her backpack, Marco recognized them right away—from the movie they’d watched last night at the Media Center. But Nisha had clipped some sort of light to the top of the glasses.
“I put together the red and blue lenses from two pairs of 3-D glasses, and then attached this infrared LED bike light.” She flipped a switch on the glasses, and the light came on.
“Cool!” said Logan. He reached for the glasses and slid them onto his nose. “Wait, I don’t really see anything.”
“I already told you, they’re Night Goggles,” said Nisha, laughing. “They don’t work in a bright room, but they should work well in the cave this afternoon.”
“But you only have one pair?” asked Logan. “You should make more! I think I still have my 3-D glasses from last night.” He flopped onto his stomach across his bed, and his head disappeared beneath it. When he popped back up, he held a pair of cardboard glasses. “Ta-da!”
“I don’t know if I have time,” said Nisha, reaching for the glasses. “I’d have to make them during lunch. But I can try. Do you have yours, Marco?”
He ran a hand over his head, thinking. “Maybe in my desk.” But the only thing he found there was that crumpled letter, staring him in the face. “Or maybe I threw them out.” And I might as well throw this letter out, too.
Marco grabbed the letter and headed out the door of the cabin, stopping by a metal trash bin.
Sure enough, his yellow cardboard glasses peeked out from beneath a half-eaten sandwich and a banana peel. Marco held his nose with one hand and reached for the glasses with the other. “Do you still want them?” he asked in a nasally voice.
Nisha took the glasses between two fingers, as if she were holding a dead fish. “Thanks, I think.”
Then Marco threw his crumpled letter into the bin. He wished he could tell someone—his parents, his friends, anyone—how freaked out he was about that zip line. But what’s the point? he wondered. It won’t change anything. I’ll still be a big scaredy cat.
As the paper ball bounced into the trashcan, Marco caught a flicker of movement from just behind the can.
Before his eyes could focus, something yowled and sprang at him—a flash of yellow fur careening toward his face.
Marco shrieked, leaped backward in surprise, and stumbled, falling to the ground. As he scrambled to get back up, a yellow tom cat strutted past, flicking his crooked tail.
Logan fell into a heap of laughter. “Meowth got you good!” he said, pointing at Marco.
Again, thought Marco with a sigh. No matter how many times he ran into Meowth, the grumpy cat that lived here at Camp Pikachu, the cat always caught him off guard.
He tried to calm his racing heart with a few deep breaths. But he couldn’t look at Logan, who was still laughing hysterically.
I’m a scaredy cat about the zip line, thought Marco, and now my friends think I’m actually scared of cats, too. This is going to be a really l-o-n-g weekend.
CHAPTER TWO
“It’s a Beautifly!” shouted Maddy, chasing something down the wooded trail.
Marco raced after her. “Where?”
“Shh!” Nisha whispered as she jogged toward them. “Don’t let other teams hear you!” She pulled the map out of her pocket and held it up. “Wait … a Beautifly? That’s not even one of the Pokémon we’re supposed to find!”
Maddy giggled. “I know,” she said. “It’s a real one! Look, Logan!” She pointed toward something just off the trail, flitting around a bush.
Logan raced around the bush for a better view. “Maddy!” he said with disappointment. “That’s just a butterfly, not a Beautifly.”
Maddy gazed at the orange monarch and shrugged. “I don’t care,” she said. “Beautifly is a better name.”
Marco couldn’t argue with that. The forest seemed full of bright, colorful Beautiflies. There were also plenty of kids running around in brightly colored T-shirts—too many of them. He saw boys from Team Mudkip and Team Froakie in blue, and a girl from Team Chespin in brown. And who could miss that Team Torchic kid over there in the blindingly bright yellow?
Logan must have read Marco’s mind, because he nudged Marco with his elbow. “How are we supposed to find the hidden Pokémon?” he asked. “As soon as we take pictures of them, all the other teams will see them, too!”
Marco suddenly spotted something and squatted down, pulling Logan with him. “We don’t have to beat all the teams,” he whispered. “Just that one.” He pointed to a fox-orange T-shirt barely visible through the bushes.
“Team Fennekin,” Logan spat under his breath.
“Exactly,” said Marco.
As they watched, a ginormous boy in an orange T-shirt pushed through the branches, breaking what he couldn’t bend. Stella, a tall girl with sharp features and a streak of magenta in her blonde hair, stepped through after him. Instead of holding the branches for her other teammates, she let them go. The branches sprang backward. “Ouch!” her red-headed brother cried. “You did that on purpose, Stella.”
She probably did, thought Marco. Led by nasty Stella and her brother, Sam, Team Fennekin had been making trouble for Team Treecko since the start of camp. Now the two teams were neck and neck in the Summer Camp Hall of Fame competition. “We’re going to win the Poké Ball statue,” Marco whispered to Logan. “We’ve got this, right?”
“Right!” Logan shouted, pumping his fist in the air. With a burst of energy, he sprang up and raced past Maddy, who was nibbling on a Lava Cookie. Then he ducked his head, as if dodging something in the trail.
“Oh, no!” Logan shrieked playfully. “Maddy, it’s a Beedrill!” He pointed at the bumblebee hovering over her cookie. He waved his arms wildly near the bee and then pretended to stagger backward into the grass.
Maddy didn’t seem scared at all—at least not for herself. She sucked in her breath and searched for the bee. “Don’t squish it!”
He didn’t hear her. He was too busy hamming it up. “Run!” he shouted at Marco. “Beedrill attack! Run for your lives!” He sprinted around a bend in the trail and ran smack into a camp counselor—the one they called Professor Birch.
“Logan!” cried the counselor, his chubby cheeks flushed and his pen dangling off the clipboard. “What is it?” His shirt had come untucked from his khaki shorts, and he looked utterly confused.
Logan stood to attention. “Um, just having fun, sir. Nothing to see here.”
But every kid in the clearing must have thought there was something to see, because they stopped to watch. Marco saw Stella smirking from the bushes. She probably loves seeing Team Treecko getting into trouble, he thought, clenching his jaw.
Professor Birch opened his mouth for a long moment and then shut it. He ran his hand over his goatee before saying, “Let’s take it down a notch, Logan. The best trainers sneak up on Pokémon—they don’t scare them all away.”
Logan lowered his eyes. “Yes, sir.” But as soon as Professor Birch had passed, the spring in Logan’s step returned.
Marco waved Team Treecko together, trying to ignore the kids who were still staring. “Let’s look at the map and make a plan, before we run out of time!” he whispered.
“Yeah, Logan,” said Maddy. “Be serious. We’ve already wasted like”—she leaned in to look at Marco’s stopwatch—“six min
utes.”
Logan gave an exaggerated sigh. He pretended to wipe the smirk off his face with his hand and stuff it into his pocket.
Then everyone turned to Marco, as they always did. Somehow, he’d become their fearless leader. If only they knew that I’m not so fearless, he thought sadly. But he didn’t have time right now to feel sorry for himself. “Let’s look at the map,” he said again. “We have to know what we’re looking for.”
Nisha held the map steady in the center of the circle. “We’re here,” she said, pointing to the thick black line that marked the main trail. “And we have to find four Pokémon in an hour—less than an hour, now. See them? Bunnelby, Fletchling, Bulbasaur, and Charmander.”
The Pokémon were spread throughout the forest—tiny images hidden within patches of color. “Light and dark green patches mean bushes and trees, remember?” said Nisha. “Yellow means a clearing. There are brown hills and ditches. These black blobs are rocks, and the blue on the edge of the map is the lake.”
Marco studied the map and then glanced up at the woods. “Everyone is heading down the trail toward Bulbasaur,” he said. “He’s the closest Pokémon. But what if we split up? We have a better chance of finding more Pokémon that way.”
Nisha tried to chew on her fingernail, but spat out a piece of fuzz from her glove instead. “But there’s only one map and compass. How can we split those up?” Then she eyed a flat rock just off the trail and waved her friends over. “Marco, set your compass on the map,” she said.
As Marco did, the red arrow bobbed toward the “N” on the dial. He watched Nisha spin the map beneath the compass until the red arrow pointed north on the map, too.
“Okay,” she said. “So Bunnelby is almost straight north. We’ll take the compass and follow it north. You take the map and follow the trail,” she said, pointing at the dotted line.
But something niggled at Marco. “Wait,” he said. “There’s only one camera. How do we let each other know if we find something?”
“I know!” said Logan, raising his hand as if he were sitting in a classroom. “We’ll whistle.” He pursed his lips together and whistled two notes, and then repeated them.