AN: Hi everyone! This is my first time posting anything remotely related to The X-Men, despite the fact I am a huge fan of anything related to them. That includes the movies, the books, the comic books, the movies, and the cartoons. Why, you might ask, do I like The X-Men? Well, I'm a biology major and I'm hoping to, someday, get into genetic engineering. This story was written before and, in honor of, the Genetics Class I took last semester. What a time we had! Anywho, please, please, please read and review! I always appreciate the feedback.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except a handful or two of made up characters. All of this wonderful stuff belongs to the geniuses at Marvel Comics. I'm just playing in their world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are my Pointe shoes.

From the journal of Hope "Starsheen" D'Amichi, age 14

My brother had the radio on in his room before. He's not supposed to because it "distracts" him from his studies...or so my mom says.

I think he'd just rather listen to the radio and play baseball or video games than anything else. He's still a kid, you know, and he sometimes doesn't understand everything that goes on in the world.

Maybe, I'm wrong though and he's just escaping into his own little world. He chooses to ignore what's going on and pretend everything's still alright.

Anyway, I'm getting away from the story. Sometimes I do that but I guess you know that since this is my journal.

He heard this song called "Welcome to My Life" and he told our mom that song was about us and how no one understands what we are and things like that. I don't think I've ever seen her get that mad at him. I'm not sure if she grounded him or not because I took my leave.

I think it may have started an argument with dad, too, but I don't know. They've been arguing a lot, you know, since everything happened.

I've heard the word "moving" being bounced about, more by my dad then my mom. He doesn't feel safe here any more---Who can blame him, though? My mom insists this is the best place for, not them, but for my brother and I. She doesn't want to go anyplace to "start over" and "get a fresh outlook."

I have my radio on now, kind of low though because I think my dad's sleeping. He pulled long hours at the deli this week since Antonio's gone to Italy to visit his parents. I don't want to wake him. Mom's grading papers in the living room. I should be out there helping her but I have to do this first. My brother, well, he's sulking in his room since he doesn't like getting in trouble.

The song my brother was talking about just came on. It's the first time I've ever heard it and I have to say, he has a point. The song echoes some of the feelings people around here have about their lot in life.

Not that they're the feelings I have but that's just me. Maybe it's because this is all I've ever know and stuff. Growing up here will do that to a kid.

I'm digressing...again.

People are always looking for someone to blame when they find out they're like us. It's just a natural reaction, I guess, when you find out you're something everyone in the world hates and fears. I don't remember if I've ever felt that way. I probably haven't.

I know better than to look for someone to blame.

It's not the fault of my mom or dad, because they didn't ask for me to be what my brother and I are. They didn't ask their parents to be what they are. I'm sure of it even though I've never met them.

There's no higher power to blame, either. This was what was meant to happen. Science says so.

I guess if you really wanted to blame anything, it would have to be your DNA. You know the

genetic code that's found in every cell of everyone's body and makes us who we are. Our DNA can be found coiled up neatly to form genes.

Not the genes you wear on your legs, silly!

These genes are totally different and serve a totally other purpose. It is within these genes DNA resides and it is DNA that is trascripted to produce proteins. Gene expression has everything to do with the expression of mutation since, without the genes to express it, there would be no mutations.

Maybe that's the answer to the question: Why am I like this?

I never liked that question. I don't like people asking my why I am the way I am. It's hard enough when you get asked, "What are you?" Not "Who are you?" but "What are you?"

I can't express just how horrible that feeling is. It's like I'm not even human anymore. I've been placed somewhere among shoes and books and those unsightly things you find on the ground.

And that's from the people who don't know the real reason I live in this school.

They assume I'm a "what" because of how I look. It's not my fault that I appear this way, with the starburst pattern on my irises and my signature ears. Genetics stated I was supposed to look this and I guess I should be thankful my parents are the way they are. In some ways, their genes helped fill in the blanks in mine. Things could have turned out a lot differently for me if they hadn't.

They actually can't figure out why I'm even alive. Imagine that! Not really knowing why I was allowed to live.

Since I'm that one-in-four eventuality they never planned for- because everyone assumed such a child wouldn't have even lived long enough to become what I am now- I'm kinda one of a kind. I'm sure they'll be others like me someday, not exactly like me but enough like me genetically speaking, but for now I'm the only one. Patient 001. The test subject and crash test dummy all at the same time. I've lived my life under their microscopes and in test tubes.

Anyone else would mind having to put up with such things for so long but I don't. As a matter of fact, my mother always asks me if I want to tell them to stop the testing. Stop my life as a human lab rat. Give me a "normal" life, such as one can have when you're like me.

When I was little I always wanted to say yes but I never did. You always want to do what pleases your parents, make them proud and stuff. Maybe I even wanted to assert myself over my brother and make him understand that I was bigger and better then him. Or something like that.

Now though, because I'm older and, arguably, wiser, I let them get on with their work for two reasons. The first is that I'm allowed to help now. I've passed every proficiency test they're thrown at me with flying colors and, so, they've allowed me in the lab. It helps to have a mother who teaches biology, too!

The other is because I really just want to be of some help to someone someday. Like I wrote before, I'm not going to be the only one with a double recessive mutant gene. One hundred percent mutant genes, as my genetic profile reads.

I know big words and ideals for such a little girl.

After everything that's happened- not just to me but to everyone around me- I'm allowed to have some big ideals.

The world's become slightly more unfriendly toward all of mutant kind. We're less popular then ever just because there are a few bad apples in both the mutant and human bushels.

The human race isn't as innocent as they'd like to think, sometimes.

They named me Hope because they hoped the world- OUR WORLD- would be different when I got older. That I wouldn't have to face the evils they had to face and live in a world where my kind was accepted by the rest of the human race. A world of peace and of prosperity for all humankind.

I don't often like to say this but they were wrong. The world is an unfriendly place for people like my brother and I and all the kids in the school we live in.

I'm sorry I was so grave, I never really am but I guess it needed to be said. Well, written down in this case.

My mom wants me to help her grade papers. I'd better get going, just in case her mood hasn't improved.

Second Star to the Right,

Starsheen