I don't own anything that a fan fiction writer shouldn't own.

Growing up, I didn't know much about my family tree except that I had a mom and a dumb older brother named Flint. According to them, we had a grandfather somewhere and a dad somewhere else. Mom worked as a typist, but in addition to that we got wads of cash every month in the mail big enough to keep us comfy. They came in unofficial looking envelopes, which led Flint to explain to me that they were clearly not child support, whatever that was. Flint and I had red hair, but our mother was blond. So between the money and the red hair I could only assume the story about our father was true, despite the fact that Flint had no clue where our dad was or how he got the money and our mom either didn't know or wasn't telling, so I didn't have a clue either.

All that aside, we lived together, the six of us: Me, Mom, Flint, Flint's Chimchar, Mom's pet Eevee, and Flint stupid badge from Eterna Gym. I didn't have any gym badges or any Pokemon or anything. Flint was twelve. I was six. It was to be expected. I still didn't think it was fair. I whined about that a lot.

This story is about the pet Eevee, stupid Flint, the stupid Forest Badge, another blond, a Ditto, and three unhatched Eevees that would never know one of their parents, either.

"But mom," said Flint. "I don't get it. How can a guy Eevee get knocked up?" Mom hit him. "Ow. Are we sure it's a guy?"

"Of course it is," said Mom. "A Ditto did it."

"A Ditto can't knock up a bo - ow!"

"Stop saying that," said Mom. "What happened is a Ditto...met...Eevee and...made...some eggs with him and then left. Here are the eggs."

"But there are no wild Ditto around here," said Flint.

"Then it was a trained Ditto."

"Bad Ditto," I grumbled. "No Poffin."

"Or well-trained," Flint pointed out. "Depending on how you - ow! Mom!" Mom had hit him again. "Made the eggs awful fast, didn't they?" asked Flint, rubbing the back of his head.

"Eevee are fast breeders," Mom explained. "It comes from a tendency of female Eevee to be rare. Anyway, I don't want more Eevee running around the house and making messes, so you boys have to find them good homes before they hatch."

"But Mom!" I yelled before Flint could say anything. "I wanna keep one! I'll take care of it!"

"Mom!" Flint yelled. "That's no fair! I didn't have any Pokemon until I was ten!"

"But you got one now and I don't!"

"Buck, you're not old enough.

"Am too!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Boys! Be quiet!" Our mother didn't raise her voice often, so when she did we listened. "You can both keep one. I'll be sorry later, but you may each have one Eevee."

"Really?" grinned Flint. "Awright!"

Child that I was, I felt the need to state the obvious. "Now he has two and I only have one!"

"That's because you're six and he's twelve," said Mom with growing annoyance.

"But-!"

"So if Buck keeps one and Flint keeps one," Mom continued. "That leaves...one. That leaves one." She sighed. "Well, two is better than three...go find it a home. People like Eevee. They make wonderful pets."

"Except that you always get more Eevee," said Flint.

"Not if there's no Ditto or other Eevee," said Mom. "Now get. Eevee has to the Pokemon Center. I'm taking him there. You two go out and find that egg a home. Eevee! Come here, Eevee! Time to go to the Pokemon Center!"

"Why's Eevee goin' to the Pokemon Center?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it," said Mom.

"Wait," said Flint. "Mom. Are you gonna get Eevee fi-"

"Flint," said Mom in a warning tone.

"Mom! No! You can't do that! Eevee!" he called to the pet Eevee, who had come when Mom called him. "Run! Run away, little guy!"

But Eevee didn't understand why he should run. Mom scooped Eevee up and after shouting after them for a few moments more Flint realized there was nothing he could do.

"I don't get it," I said after Mom was out of earshot. "Why's Eevee gotta go to the Pokemon Center."

"Mom's gonna get him fixed," Flint said, his voice full of woe. He was the one carrying the egg. "So it doesn't happen again."

"Fixed?"

"Fixed."

"Is he broken?"

Flint explained it to me. I was just as freaked out as he was.

"What?" I shouted. "No! She can't do that! Why? I don't get it!"

"Because that's where eggs come from."

"Huh?"

Flint explained that to me, too. It was shaping up to be a pretty bad day in the Life of Buck.

"Man." I didn't have much else to say. "Just...that doesn't mean...aw, man!"

"Let's promise never to get our Eevees fixed once they hatch," said Flint.

"Yeah," I said. "I promise."

"Me too," said Flint. "Now promise not to tell Mom I told you any of that."

"'Kay."

"'Kay. We gotta give this egg to somebody who won't get their Eevee fixed either."

"Yeah. Who?"

"I don't know," said Flint. "A kid. Not an adult."

"I was gonna say we give it to the old lady up the street. She has some Eevee." She had a lot of Skitty and Meowth and Glameow, too. "I don't think she'd get one fixed."

"No," said Flint. "I don't think that's a hot idea."

"Or maybe that one girl-"

"I actually have somebody in mind," said Flint. "That's where we're going."

"Who?"

Flint didn't answer me right away.

"Flint? Did you hear me? I asked who."

"Volkner," said my brother, savoring the word, almost breathing it. "Volkner would love an Eevee. He could evolve it into a Jolteon someday."

"Flint," I reminded him. "Volkner doesn't like you."

"He's cool when there's nobody around or when I'm not there," Flint insisted. "He's only a jerk when he's talking to me in front of other people."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't like you. You can't even impress him with your gym badge. He's got two."

"I know," said Flint, proudly. "He used Thunderbolt to get the first one, that's why he likes electric-types. So if I give him an Eevee..."

"If we give him an Eevee."

"...he'll want to hang out with me!"

"Imma tell Mom you like him."

"I don't like him!" said Flint, but his face turned pink and I knew he was full of crap, even at the age of six. "I just...like him. I wanna hang out with him. Or train with him. Now shut up, somebody might hear you." He was fighting a losing battle; everybody who knew my brother already knew about his obsession with that blond kid two blocks over. "Here's his house. I'll prove he's cool. You don't let him see you, and I'll give him the egg. Listen, okay?"

Flint got me to stand by the door with my back to the wall, so somebody on the other side of it couldn't see me but I could hear them. He fluffed his hair up (it stuck out on its own and Flint decided young to make the style his own rather than fight nature) took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

Nothing. He rang the doorbell again.

Volkner from two blocks over answered this time. I couldn't see them, but Volkner probably looked around to see if anybody was outside.

"Hi Volkner!"

"Oh. Flint. Hi."

"...hi."

"Is that an egg?"

"Yeah!" said Flint, seeming to remember why he was there. "It'll hatch into an Eevee."

That got Volkner interested. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Flint. "It's for you. I've got one too. Our Eevee had them. Our mom took it to get fixed..."

"That bites," said Volkner. "Poor Eevee."

"Yeah. But there's eggs. So, here, you want it?"

"Yeah! Wow, thank you!" He didn't seem concerned with what his parents might think of this. If he'd gotten two Gym Badges by now they probably supported his raising of Pokemon...slow, yes, but steady.

"You're welcome," said Flint.

"Wanna come in?" asked Volkner. "I should put it under blankets or something, and we could...I dunno, talk about stuff."

"Sure!" said Flint.

"Can I come out now?" I asked, looking around the corner.

"Who's that?" asked Volkner.

"Nobody," said Flint.

"He made me hide back there so he could flirt with you." I was tired of this crap.

"Oh really?"

"No!" said Flint.

"Because that wouldn't surprise me," said Volkner.

"How about those blankets?" Flint tried.

"I know where the blankets are in my own house. Stop looking for excuses to get me under a blanket." He turned around and shut the door with a "Bye." After the door was shut I heard him say "fag."

"Can we go now?" I asked.

"Fine," said Flint. "But he was cool until you showed up. You heard us."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You did. I told you. I think he does like me."

"Fag."

"...do you even know what that means?"

Darn kids, repeating what they hear. They're like parrots.