Acceptance
Written By: Swift Winds
Disclaimer: Like the remote, X-Men Evolution too, is not mine. All I have are a bunch of comics, but they're cool ones :D Anyway, yeah, this has an original character, just to let you know, so please no flames about her being a "Mary Sue". I'm trying my best to give her a decent personality. Besides, she's not perfect. I am. (Just kidding!) Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!
A teenaged girl with dark brown eyes quietly sat down at the top of the stairs, silently listening to the conversation being held in the living room below. A bald man with dark eyes sitting in a wheelchair and a beautiful tall black woman with snow-white hair were speaking with her aunt. The girl had been watching them as soon as they entered the house. Her curiosity was the cause of her sneaking out of her room in the first place, since she wasn't supposed to be there. She wanted to know why the two people had come all the way to Montana from New York, especially to a small house fifty miles from the nearest city. A small part of her was hopeful, because this might be her window of opportunity; her chance to get out of the harsh establishment she had been reluctantly placed in four months ago.
She craned her neck a little bit further, in order to hear what the man in the wheelchair was saying. He spoke clearly and precisely, as if he knew she was there and wanted her to be able to hear him. She told herself that was impossible, but she still had to wonder. Did that man really know she was here? He hadn't looked in her direction at all since she had sat down, yet when she did, he spoke a little louder, but not enough for her aunt to notice.
"As I said before, Kirsten would be well taken care of, and she would be well provided for."
Bridget Mackay looked up from the fingernails she had been studying and looked directly at the man. Her eyes were the same shade as Kirsten's, almost black, but unlike Kirsten's, hers were cold, unfeeling. "So if you take her in, you won't be expecting any money or anything will ya? Cause I'm not paying for no private school for her, no sir. Too damned expensive."
"I assure you," the man replied, "That you will not be held financially responsible for Kirsten."
Professor Charles Xavier didn't have to probe this woman's mind to see the immediate dislike and resentment she felt toward her niece. He knew from what he had gathered with Cerebro that Kirsten Mackay had come into her care four months ago after an accident had claimed the lives of her parents in her native Scotland. Her father's sister was her only surviving relative, so she had to leave her native country and move to America. When she arrived, she was met with resentment from her aunt, who wanted nothing to do with her brother's child, and by students who immediately disliked the shy girl with the thick accent.
He felt a wave of sympathy for the girl. How awful it must be to live in a house where you're not wanted. He hated to think of what her school life had been before she had gotten expelled. He knew that kids could be cruel.
It was wonder to him why he sensed her apprehension when he mentioned his institute. Judging by the reaction, she was not easily accepted amongst her peers here. Yet he also sensed hope, for a chance to start anew. He would give her that chance. That was why he was here.
"So you say this is an institute for gifted youngsters?" Bridget continued, bringing Charles out of his reverie, "I don't know if you'd want Kirsten then. She ain't gifted, she's just a trouble maker. The school board has expelled her for arson. She apparently set fire to the gym, causing that and the arts annex to burn to the ground."
'That's not true!' Kirsten protested silently from her place on the top stair. 'That wasn't me! Jenkins, Smith, and Turner were the ones that set fire to the place! I was just there working on an art assignment."
Just because she had accidentally caused a fire in her science lab (when there was no fire to begin with, no less) that to this day she could not explain, her aunt thought of her as a juvenile arsonist. That, and when fires sprouted up around her unexplained were the reasons to blame. The school had spent more money on fire extinguishers than any other place in the county.
"The fire was bound to happen," her aunt remarked, "You wouldn't believe the numbers of times I've caught that girl playing with fire. She once even started a fire in her science lab." she sighed, then continued, "I'd say it's a cry for help, but frankly, I'm not up to dealing with this sort of situation."
'Or it's because you don't care,' Charles thought, knowing full well that was the case. He could sense the girls indignation, as well as her hesitancy to speak up in her own defense. That probably did her no good in the past, so why would that change now?
Charles decided that it would be better to just agree with the woman. "Yes, and that is why we are here. To help Kirsten."
Kirsten had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and as a result, she was expelled. She had been out of school for a week when the two visitors arrived.
She jumped slightly when the woman seated across from her aunt turned her head, looked directly at her, and smiled. Shyly, she returned the gesture, then quickly got up and snuck back into her room. She really wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, and she didn't want to get in any more trouble than she already was in.
She leapt on the bed and picked up the magazine that she had abandoned earlier, and quickly began to skim over an article that she had already read, something about some young actor in a movie about elves and rings, anxiously awaiting the arrival of any confirmation as to her being able to live in the institute the man had mentioned.
A few minutes later, her aunt's harsh voice reverberated up the stairwell in an all too familiar way. "Kirsten, get your skinny ass down here now!"
Quickly, Kirsten tossed aside the magazine and scrambled off of her bed, racing down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. She stopped a few feet short of the guests, and looked at her aunt questioningly. Her aunt immediately began speaking, as she firmly believed that teenagers should speak only when spoken to.
"Pack your things, you're leaving," Bridget informed her bluntly. "Starting today, you're no longer living in my house. You're gonna be living in New York now."
Kirsten could hardly believe her ears. She was leaving! She had no idea where she was going, but anywhere was better than where she was currently. Never again would she have to suffer at the hands of her peers, and she would never again have to deal with her aunt. That was worth almost any price as far as she was concerned.
Timidly, she turned and looked at the man, who smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Yes Kirsten. You will be going with us. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is Ororo Munroe."
"Um, hello." Kirsten replied shyly.
"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you Kirsten," Ororo replied, "You need only pack what you'll need for a few days, the rest will be shipped later on. At no cost to your aunt," she added as an afterthought. Bridget nodded in reply.
"All right," Kirsten responded. She stood there silently, allowing everything to sink in.
"Well, hurry up!" her aunt snapped. "They're waiting for you."
Kirsten quietly obeyed. Hurriedly, she sprinted up the stairs back up to her room and began to tear it apart, packing everything into a suitcase as fast as she could with as many clothes as she could stuff into it. She paused for a moment, and reached over toward her night stand and pulled down a picture of her mother, father, and herself as a toddler. Carefully, she placed the picture into the suitcase and covered it with a soft shirt. She then tossed in a few more items, closed the suitcase, and after a few moments struggling, zipped it shut. She pulled it off of her bed, and drug it down the stairs.
She came back into the living room, where she said goodbye to her aunt. She then took her suitcase and followed Ororo and the Professor out to a black vehicle. Once she was situated in the backseat and her suitcase was in the trunk, they pulled out, and headed toward the airport.
As they went down the long dirt road that ran toward the main highway, Kirsten never once looked back.
Written By: Swift Winds
Disclaimer: Like the remote, X-Men Evolution too, is not mine. All I have are a bunch of comics, but they're cool ones :D Anyway, yeah, this has an original character, just to let you know, so please no flames about her being a "Mary Sue". I'm trying my best to give her a decent personality. Besides, she's not perfect. I am. (Just kidding!) Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!
A teenaged girl with dark brown eyes quietly sat down at the top of the stairs, silently listening to the conversation being held in the living room below. A bald man with dark eyes sitting in a wheelchair and a beautiful tall black woman with snow-white hair were speaking with her aunt. The girl had been watching them as soon as they entered the house. Her curiosity was the cause of her sneaking out of her room in the first place, since she wasn't supposed to be there. She wanted to know why the two people had come all the way to Montana from New York, especially to a small house fifty miles from the nearest city. A small part of her was hopeful, because this might be her window of opportunity; her chance to get out of the harsh establishment she had been reluctantly placed in four months ago.
She craned her neck a little bit further, in order to hear what the man in the wheelchair was saying. He spoke clearly and precisely, as if he knew she was there and wanted her to be able to hear him. She told herself that was impossible, but she still had to wonder. Did that man really know she was here? He hadn't looked in her direction at all since she had sat down, yet when she did, he spoke a little louder, but not enough for her aunt to notice.
"As I said before, Kirsten would be well taken care of, and she would be well provided for."
Bridget Mackay looked up from the fingernails she had been studying and looked directly at the man. Her eyes were the same shade as Kirsten's, almost black, but unlike Kirsten's, hers were cold, unfeeling. "So if you take her in, you won't be expecting any money or anything will ya? Cause I'm not paying for no private school for her, no sir. Too damned expensive."
"I assure you," the man replied, "That you will not be held financially responsible for Kirsten."
Professor Charles Xavier didn't have to probe this woman's mind to see the immediate dislike and resentment she felt toward her niece. He knew from what he had gathered with Cerebro that Kirsten Mackay had come into her care four months ago after an accident had claimed the lives of her parents in her native Scotland. Her father's sister was her only surviving relative, so she had to leave her native country and move to America. When she arrived, she was met with resentment from her aunt, who wanted nothing to do with her brother's child, and by students who immediately disliked the shy girl with the thick accent.
He felt a wave of sympathy for the girl. How awful it must be to live in a house where you're not wanted. He hated to think of what her school life had been before she had gotten expelled. He knew that kids could be cruel.
It was wonder to him why he sensed her apprehension when he mentioned his institute. Judging by the reaction, she was not easily accepted amongst her peers here. Yet he also sensed hope, for a chance to start anew. He would give her that chance. That was why he was here.
"So you say this is an institute for gifted youngsters?" Bridget continued, bringing Charles out of his reverie, "I don't know if you'd want Kirsten then. She ain't gifted, she's just a trouble maker. The school board has expelled her for arson. She apparently set fire to the gym, causing that and the arts annex to burn to the ground."
'That's not true!' Kirsten protested silently from her place on the top stair. 'That wasn't me! Jenkins, Smith, and Turner were the ones that set fire to the place! I was just there working on an art assignment."
Just because she had accidentally caused a fire in her science lab (when there was no fire to begin with, no less) that to this day she could not explain, her aunt thought of her as a juvenile arsonist. That, and when fires sprouted up around her unexplained were the reasons to blame. The school had spent more money on fire extinguishers than any other place in the county.
"The fire was bound to happen," her aunt remarked, "You wouldn't believe the numbers of times I've caught that girl playing with fire. She once even started a fire in her science lab." she sighed, then continued, "I'd say it's a cry for help, but frankly, I'm not up to dealing with this sort of situation."
'Or it's because you don't care,' Charles thought, knowing full well that was the case. He could sense the girls indignation, as well as her hesitancy to speak up in her own defense. That probably did her no good in the past, so why would that change now?
Charles decided that it would be better to just agree with the woman. "Yes, and that is why we are here. To help Kirsten."
Kirsten had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and as a result, she was expelled. She had been out of school for a week when the two visitors arrived.
She jumped slightly when the woman seated across from her aunt turned her head, looked directly at her, and smiled. Shyly, she returned the gesture, then quickly got up and snuck back into her room. She really wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, and she didn't want to get in any more trouble than she already was in.
She leapt on the bed and picked up the magazine that she had abandoned earlier, and quickly began to skim over an article that she had already read, something about some young actor in a movie about elves and rings, anxiously awaiting the arrival of any confirmation as to her being able to live in the institute the man had mentioned.
A few minutes later, her aunt's harsh voice reverberated up the stairwell in an all too familiar way. "Kirsten, get your skinny ass down here now!"
Quickly, Kirsten tossed aside the magazine and scrambled off of her bed, racing down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. She stopped a few feet short of the guests, and looked at her aunt questioningly. Her aunt immediately began speaking, as she firmly believed that teenagers should speak only when spoken to.
"Pack your things, you're leaving," Bridget informed her bluntly. "Starting today, you're no longer living in my house. You're gonna be living in New York now."
Kirsten could hardly believe her ears. She was leaving! She had no idea where she was going, but anywhere was better than where she was currently. Never again would she have to suffer at the hands of her peers, and she would never again have to deal with her aunt. That was worth almost any price as far as she was concerned.
Timidly, she turned and looked at the man, who smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Yes Kirsten. You will be going with us. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is Ororo Munroe."
"Um, hello." Kirsten replied shyly.
"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you Kirsten," Ororo replied, "You need only pack what you'll need for a few days, the rest will be shipped later on. At no cost to your aunt," she added as an afterthought. Bridget nodded in reply.
"All right," Kirsten responded. She stood there silently, allowing everything to sink in.
"Well, hurry up!" her aunt snapped. "They're waiting for you."
Kirsten quietly obeyed. Hurriedly, she sprinted up the stairs back up to her room and began to tear it apart, packing everything into a suitcase as fast as she could with as many clothes as she could stuff into it. She paused for a moment, and reached over toward her night stand and pulled down a picture of her mother, father, and herself as a toddler. Carefully, she placed the picture into the suitcase and covered it with a soft shirt. She then tossed in a few more items, closed the suitcase, and after a few moments struggling, zipped it shut. She pulled it off of her bed, and drug it down the stairs.
She came back into the living room, where she said goodbye to her aunt. She then took her suitcase and followed Ororo and the Professor out to a black vehicle. Once she was situated in the backseat and her suitcase was in the trunk, they pulled out, and headed toward the airport.
As they went down the long dirt road that ran toward the main highway, Kirsten never once looked back.