The sky above me was the colour of static as I stood, knee-deep in silence, in front of the three Pokeballs my father had laid out before me. The tiny capsules eclipsed me, entrapped me, the weight of what was about to happen boring into my shoulders. My breath caught in my chest as I took in the shape of my father. He towered above me like a mountain. He was waiting for my answer.

But I didn't have one to give him.

The curtains twitched at the kitchen window. I felt betrayed – how could Mum stay inside and just allow this happen? She knew how I felt about this, even if Dad didn't. I looked down at my feet, and noticed, for the first time, a hole forming in the toe of my shoe. I scuffed it into the grass.

"Well?"

The question hung like lead in the air. A minute dragged itself past while I tried out words and phrases in my head, disliking how all of them sounded selfish and pathetic. Then, a sickening crack from somewhere within the dojo made both of us look up. A cacophony of swearing; sharp, ugly words I often pretended I didn't know. One of Dad's managers came sprinting out, my mood soaring in the hope of a distraction. They exchanged a quick word.

"Sienna, we need to hurry this up." Dad said as soon as the manager was out of earshot.

"…but I don't know…"

My father is a proud man. Strict and disciplined. Excellent qualities for a dojo master, not as good for a father. I didn't know what answer to give him. He placed a hand on my shoulder and the force made my knees wobble.

"I'll run through them again." He waved vaguely at the first Pokeball in the line. "Mankey. Agile and powerful, but a little frail on the defence. This one was bred from my prized Primeape."

There was a sense of inescapable pride in his voice. I knew I was meant to be impressed but instead I just felt sick. His hand moved to the second ball. "This one is a Makuhita. A bit slow, but a hard-hitter and gutsy to boot. Picked it up in Hoenn. Paid a pretty penny for one this good." Finally he gestured to the third ball. "This is a Pancham. All the way from Kalos. Mischievous, this is. Will require a good strong hand to train. Don't turn your back on it." He added, with a wink that sends my heart hurtling into my stomach.

I'm supposed to choose one. I was afraid of this happening ever since my tenth birthday. Some part of me is amazed that he waited all the way until the first day of the summer holidays to hit me with this.

Dad looked impatiently back to me, towards the dojo, and back to me again. The names of the Pokemon ran through my head. Mankey. Makuhita. Pancham. Mankey. Makuhita. Pancham. Over and over again until none of the words made sense. I thought to myself maybe it would be easier just to take one. To keep the peace, to stop things from escalating further. I wouldn't even have to train it. Surely that was better than this?

But then I thought again about the reality of Pokemon like that. Dad had raised these types of Pokemon for as long as I could remember. I knew exactly what they were really like. Big, brawny, surly types that shriek and brawl with each other at the drop of a hat. I had seen the way trainers, younger than me, had struggled to keep a raging Machop under control. I had seen how Dad's Pokemon – powerhouses, he called them – had ripped through rivals like they were nothing. They frightened me.

I thought of the Pokemon trainer license – filled out and filed without my knowledge – and slipped inside my "Happy 10th Birthday!" card on the morning I turned ten. I should have known this day was coming. I should have protested when I had the chance.

I needed to protest now.

"I don't want any of these…"

"Eh? Speak up, girl."

"I don't want any of these."

For a moment, Dad was silent. I held my breath. Then, suddenly, he boomed with laughter. "Oh, Sienna! That's my girl!" Another slap on the shoulders nearly sent me stumbling to the ground. "You don't want a Fighting type? Oh, I hoped this would happen! I told your mother this would happen and she didn't believe me! You want something more exotic, right? Rhyhorn? Aron? I don't know if it'd be possible right now, but I could even see if I could get you your very own Larvitar! How many other kids your age could say they have a Larvitar of their very own? Well, of course, not every kid has Kanto's best dojo master on their side!"

I had to cut him off before it got worse. "No… I mean, no thank you…but"

"Okay, okay, tricky customer then. A Steel type! Maybe we wouldn't get hold of a Scizor or a Steelix just yet… but what about a Magnemite? Ferroseed? I'm pretty sure I know a breeder in Striaton City…"

"No, Dad…" I finally lifted my head to meet his eyes. "I'm… I'm sorry, but… I don't want any of these Pokemon. Any of them."

Dad looked at me if I had spontaneously grown an extra head. "Why the hell not? Don't you realise what you're being offered here? Why would you not take up this offer? Every kid in Pallet is going to be starting with a boring Fire, Water or Grass type."

"You're… you're not listening to me!" I burst out. The words tumbled out as if they had a life of their own. "I… I don't want to be a Pokemon trainer."

Dad released a sharp huff of breath. "You don't want to be a Pokemon trainer? Are you kidding me?"

"No…" I whispered, feeling my body shrivel like a flower deprived of sunlight. "I don't. I want to learn to be a chef…"

It was the wrong thing to say. I had hoped saying the words would finally give me the sense of relief and freedom. Instead, I watched Dad stand, stock-still, taking deep breaths, like he was trying to inflate a balloon. It reminded me of a Meowth making itself look bigger to intimidate other Pokemon. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes and I squeezed them shut, willing the tears not to fall. Dad hated crying.

When I looked back up, he was storming his way into the house. The back door slammed and rattled, like the whole house was going to cave in. Above all the commotion, I heard his final parting gift.

"Suzanne! That daughter of yours wants a good talking to!"

Left alone in his shadow, and his rejection, I tore open my heart and let the tears fall free.