FIRST CLASS
1
The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters
The trees lining Graymalkin Lane were a lush green from days of warm, bright sun. The yellow taxi crunched slowly down the long, paved-gravel drive, surrounded by vibrant, verdant summer.
Jean Grey sat rigidly in the car, staring out the window yet not truly seeing what was there. Her mind was elsewhere - on an uncertain past and an even more uncertain future.
Today she was joining the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. The school sought out people who were special, who had abilities that others didn't. People like her.
It had only been something like a week since Charles Xavier, the school's headmaster and namesake, had visited her and her parents in Annandale-on-Hudson to propose that she enroll. Only a week to wrap her mind around the fact that she would not be moving onto high school with her friends, or living with her family, or even staying in her home town. She felt like barely any time had passed since she heard her parents agree before she'd found herself in this car, completing the trip.
Jean sighed and stared out of the windshield. The house at the end of the lane was nearing slowly. She wondered if the driver truly was creeping along or if time simply felt more stunted to her worried mind.
Worrying about this isn't very rational, she reminded herself. Yes, the turnaround from offer to event had been brief, but this had really been a long time coming. Xavier had visited her beginning five years earlier, when she was 10, and had returned periodically through the years. At first, he'd visited frequently. She suspected he'd gone so far as to briefly move to Annandale-on-Hudson. His visits lessened, and by the time he'd returned to entreat her attendance at his school, she hadn't seen him for a year, maybe two.
Jean shook herself out of her reverie as the car finally left the tree-lined lane and began to approach the house proper. There was a bit more road to go before they would reach an extended roundabout, which was not paved-gravel, but rather cobblestone. This led to a small stairway up to the house's entrance.
The house itself was enormous - more like a mansion. Two full stories and a third floor of attic windows beneath a peaked roof stared down at her. What looked almost like two smaller versions of the same house stood to either side, connected to the middle structure by large hallways that looked to include proper rooms as well.
The trees lining the road now behind them extended out across the expansive grounds. In addition to more forested areas like the entry lane, there were copses or single trees scattered about the large, open yard of the Institute.
Jean drew a quiet breath at the sight, her eyes widening. I can't believe I'll be living here, she thought to herself. She'd never expected such a palatial estate. This was beyond her wildest imaginings.
She realized she'd been leaning forward to better view the building, and straightened her back against the seat. Professor Xavier had made the school sound newly-founded, but the building was certainly not new. She wondered if the school program was as new as she'd believed, as well. Just how many students would she find in this gigantic place?
As the taxi pulled round the roundabout, the front door of the mansion opened to reveal two figures - one familiar, one not.
The familiar figure was none other than Professor Charles Xavier himself. Xavier wore a tan-brown suit jacket and matching pants over a red sweater, with brown oxfords on his feet. He sat in a wheelchair, confined to it since before he'd met Jean - perhaps since birth, Jean had never felt comfortable asking. His face was angular, a pointed nose below prominent brows and striking eyebrows. The sharpness of his face was contrasted by his smooth and hairless scalp. His eyes were soft, kind eyes.
The figure behind him was different in just about every way. Jean was surprised to see that it was a boy of approximately her own age. He was tall, and would almost be scrawny if not for broad shoulders that he'd yet to grow into. He wore tan pants, with a dark blue, v-neck sweater over a yellow shirt. He had brown hair that looked like the messy and willful kind wrangled tenuously into place, and his square jaw led to a prominent chin. His most striking feature, however, was his eyes - largely because they were hidden behind sunglasses with strange reflective red lenses.
The taxi finally lurched to a stop. Jean took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the light.
A slight breeze tousled her long, red hair as she stepped out, and her yellow sundress waved with it. She carried a brown leather duffel bag at her side while the cab driver came round to bring in her larger suitcase from the trunk.
Jean made her way up the few steps leading from the cobbled drive to the landing where Xavier and the boy awaited her.
"Welcome, Jean," said Professor Charles Xavier as she joined them on the stoop.
The boy behind him seemed to be trying to look stoic and official and managing to look stiff and uncomfortable, but Charles was smiling warmly, extending a hand in welcome.
Jean set her bag down and shook the offered hand. "Thank you, Professor."
The taxi driver had joined them, and Xavier gave him a thankful nod. "Scott will take Jean's things to her room -" he gestured at the boy standing alongside him " - while Jean and I make official introductions in my study."
The boy - Scott, apparently - took Jean's suitcase and disappeared within the confines of the mansion. The taxi driver thanked Xavier, who had prepaid for the arranged trip, and went on his way. Then Xavier led Jean into the mansion itself.
The interior of the mansion was just as breathtaking as the exterior. The wood floors were polished and impeccably maintained. A gorgeous green and white rug at the entrance adorned the floors. Before her, a staircase led up to the second floor landing, and on either side the ground floor continued to doorways and hallways. The walls were wood-paneled, a touch that would have felt dated had they not been so lavishly maintained. The wood was all a warm brown that felt inviting and cozy, and light from the two windows flanking the doorway let the warmth of the day stream through. The finishing touch was a grand chandelier hanging above the rug.
Xavier led her along the right side of the grand staircase to an open door. They proceeded through a luxurious anteroom with the same design elements as the foyer and then through another doorway into what must have been Professor Xavier's office.
Inside, the room was similarly constructed as the entryway and the anteroom, but many of the walls were hidden behind floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with neatly-arranged books. One wall was almost entirely taken by a window looking out on the entry drive of the mansion, and a second grand window looked out toward the front door landing. A grand wooden desk sat opposite the door, and Xavier wheeled behind it and motioned for Jean to sit across from him.
Xavier flashed another smile at Jean as he began. "I'm very happy to have you with us, Jean. Our years of working together was the foundational idea that led me to open this school. It means a lot to me to have you with me at the start of this grand venture."
"It means a lot to me too, Professor," said Jean awkwardly. She meant it - she was truly grateful for his interest in her case - but she hadn't decided how happy she was to be here yet. Plus, she was still a little overwhelmed by the whole place, so she only half-heard him anyway.
"This Institute is for Gifted Youngsters, like yourself," continued the Professor. "You have an ability that most do not - the ability to move things with your mind."
Jean nodded. Telekinesis, she remembered him calling it.
Xavier went on. "This Institute is here to be a learning space and a safe-haven for other children, like yourself, who have unusual and amazing gifts that others do not."
This was all in the brochure, so to speak. Jean had been present as Xavier pitched the idea to her parents, and this was basically the same spiel again. She was starting to get antsy, and wondered why he was re-hashing information that she already knew.
"What I implied with that statement to your parents, but did not state outright -" Jean's eyebrows raised, "- is that each student at this school is what is known as a mutant."
"A mutant, Professor?" repeated Jean nervously.
She had heard of mutants. It wasn't something that was well-known or discussed much in the public eye, but in the past few years she had heard rumblings about a new type of human - or a new species altogether. Mutants, it was said, had dangerous abilities that made them like walking weapons. They hated humans for not having those abilities, or for being different, or something. They were out there, lurking. They could be anyone. They were dangerous.
When she'd first heard people whispering about mutants, she had already been seeing the Professor for her own problem. People talked about mutants being able to do strange, inhuman things, and she started to wonder if she was one. But Xavier never said anything about it, and her parents seemed to dismiss the existence of mutants outright, so she'd quickly put those fears to rest.
"That's right," Professor Xavier nodded. "Mutants. These are people born with a mysterious gene - we call it the X-Gene. This gene gives them abilities that others do not have. They can fly, they can breathe underwater, they can move things with their minds."
Her heart stopped. She'd always brushed mutants off as something other. She'd known she was different, but had always been able to take comfort in the fact that she wasn't the kind of different that made people whisper fearfully to each other. If Xavier was telling the truth, if she really was a mutant, then she was what her parents refused to believe in. She was what people were afraid of.
"Mutants can do all sorts of things," Xavier went on, seemingly unaware of Jean's inner turmoil. "Each X-Gene yields a different ability, and each mutant is unique - just like every other person without an X-Gene."
Xavier slowly rolled to look out the window as he continued speaking. "Mutants have been around for decades - some even say centuries. But the world is just now getting word that mutants exist, and they're trying to determine what to do with the knowledge. Early results are that mutants are frightening or dangerous. 'The Mutant Menace', I have seen it called."
He turned to look at her, the light of the day streaming through the window around him. "My goal - my dream - is to change all of that. I know that mutants are not to be feared. We are simply another kind of human, with our own dreams and desires and differences, like anyone else. And that's why I've set up this Institute - to protect mutants during their trying and vulnerable years, during adolescence, when their abilities first manifest. This gives them a haven to be safe from a world that fears them, and to learn to control their abilities, even to learn to use them for good."
"That's . . ." Jean's head was swirling. She didn't know what to say. Then something he'd just said stuck out to her. "Wait, you're a mutant, too?"
I am indeed. Jean jumped in her chair. Xavier had spoken, but his mouth hadn't moved. Instead of hearing him with her ears, it felt as though he'd said it directly into her mind. She couldn't decide if it was like she'd heard him in her brain, or more that she'd felt the words he'd said.
"How did you do that?" she breathed.
Xavier wheeled closer to her. "I am a telepath. I am able to communicate and connect mentally. I can read and transmit thoughts thanks to my mutant ability."
Jean's eyes widened. "You can read my mind?" She hadn't always thought very nice things about him, and she was horrified to think that he'd been privy to her private feelings.
"I can," nodded the Professor, "but I try not to. I have worked for years to train myself not to invade another's thoughts without permission, unless absolutely necessary."
She would have been lying if she'd said that wasn't a huge relief. "So you said this school was full of mutants learning about their powers, like me?" She wondered how many students there were in the palatial mansion.
"That's correct. Unfortunately, the number is small, for now. Starting small, but building to big things, I hope."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Jean swiveled to see the boy, Scott, standing in the doorway.
"Ah, Scott," Xavier motioned the boy into the room. "Thank you for re-joining us. Jean, this is Scott Summers. Scott, Jean Grey."
Scott walked forward, holding himself upright, causing his movement to be lurchy and awkward. He reached out a hand and she shook it, flashing her best smile and hoping her own nerves didn't show through it.
"It's proper that I introduce you to Scott first," said the Professor. "You are my first students, in one way or another." He turned to Scott. "Jean was the first person I reached out to, to offer help with her abilities. Teaching her inspired me to try teaching others, and led me to create this Institute." He looked now back to Jean. "Scott was my first official student when I embarked on this endeavor. I located him early this year, and brought him on as the premier pupil of this new program."
Jean looked again at the boy named Scott. He could almost be cute if he weren't so awkward. Add to that the fact that he was wearing sunglasses inside, and Jean wasn't sure she was too impressed with Xavier's first student.
"I'm sure you'd like to settle into your room," Xavier said to Jean. "Scott, if you would be so good as to introduce her to the other students and show her where she'll be living?"
"Of course, Professor," Scott replied. He motioned for Jean to follow him as he exited the room. She stood up and made an awkward half-curtsy of thanks to the Professor before grabbing her bag following Scott out of the room.
Scott was waiting for her just outside the door. He still held himself stiffly upright in an apparent show of formality, arms folded over his chest, but when she walked into the hall, his face softened into a slight smile.
He turned and lead her back through the anteroom and into the interior of the mansion's first floor. She fell in step beside him, and as they walked she shifted her bag from one hand to the next and eyed the boy.
Silence stretched between them before Scott finally said, "So the Professor says you're able to move things with your mind."
"Yeah. Well, kind of," Jean shrugged.
"You can kind of move things with your mind?" Scott repeated, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
Jean rolled her eyes at her own silliness. "I mean, yeah, I can move stuff. But I can't really do anything with my mind that I couldn't also do with my hands. Like, if it's too heavy for me to lift it using my arms, it's too heavy for me to lift it with my mind."
Scott nodded as he processed that response. "Still pretty cool though."
Jean laughed. "Yeah, okay, I guess so. What about you?"
There was a slight pause before Scott answered, "I, uh . . . I shoot laser beams out of my eyes. Sort of."
"Sort of?" She echoed.
"Yeah. They're technically concussive blasts, not lasers. But it's a little easier to just say lasers, and it mostly gets the point across."
She didn't know what she had been expecting him to say, but lasers from the eyes was definitely near the end of the list of possibilities. Jean had half-expected everyone at the school to be some variation of telekinesis, or telepathy as the case was with the Professor. That hypothesis had just leapt out the window.
Jean realized that she hadn't said anything in response to Scott. "That's . . . cool."
"Yeah. Cool." Scott repeated, his tone saying he thought it was anything but. Half to himself, he said, "I think Hank and Warren are out here."
He'd led Jean all the way through to the back of the mansion, which was beautiful from start to finish. She now found herself in a large living room with comfortable sofas and chairs, and the back wall made entirely of glass windows and doors.
Through the glass, the bright summer sun shone off of a rippling swimming pool before a vibrant garden that extended into a large, flat backyard of healthy green grass. Jean was taken with the beauty of the vista before her.
"I'm pretty sure they're out here," Scott muttered, again to himself, and pushed open one of the french doors leading outside. Jean followed, but she didn't see anyone.
Jean shielded her eyes for a moment as they stepped into the bright light. As she did, a shadow of a large bird swooped overhead, followed by another large shadow.
She realized that she could hear the joyous hooting and shouting of male voices. She glanced quickly from side to side, searching for the source. She felt almost disoriented, because the sounds nearly sounded like they were coming from above her.
Just then, with a loud thud, a hulking creature slammed to the ground in front of her.
Jean screamed involuntarily, recoiling in instinctual fear. Scott, however, seemed rather unfazed, and casually approached the form.
The beast straightened, and Jean realized that it was another boy presumably near her and Scott's age, though proportioned quite differently from any boy she was familiar with.
He was built like a linebacker, almost like a gorilla. He had shoulders so wide they could safely be described as massive. His arms, his back, his legs - everything on him seemed to bulge with muscle, a musculature generally unobtainable for one at the very start of adolescence. Even more strikingly, his hands and his feet - currently bare - were far too large. They seemed nearly double the size of a normal man's hands, even for larger builds. What's more, his feet almost looked like hands themselves.
As he stood fully erect, she could see that he looked hunched and hulking even still, his gigantic shoulder blades thrusting his head forward. His dark black hair was silky and voluminous. He turned to greet Scott, and she saw that his face, legs, and forearms were already covered in coarse hair befitting a man of ten or more years his senior.
Scott spoke up. "Jean, this is Hank McCoy."
"My given name is Henry, but I do prefer Hank," Hank said. "My apologies for startling you. Warren and I were just rough-housing. I didn't realized you'd already arrived."
"That's okay," Jean breathed, still intimidated by his frame.
Just then, she was dealt another shock as a second young man floated gracefully down from the sky. Speechless, Jean watched as he lighted elegantly in front of her and extended his hand.
More on instinct than from conscious choice, Jean extended her hand to him. He bowed and kissed her hand politely, flashing her a smoldering, intense gaze as he did so.
"Warren Worthington the Third," he said. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Warren was tall, with flowing blonde hair and a handsome face. He was well-built, strong and lithe. But Jean was distracted by his most prominent feature - a pair of large, white-feathered wings protruding from his shoulder blades.
Scott stepped nearer when Jean did not reply. "This is Jean Grey." He almost sounded stern as he said it.
Jean finally snapped out of it, lightly pulling her hand back and feeling her cheeks get hot. She'd been staring at these two boys - these two mutants - and had probably made them uncomfortable and made a fool of herself.
"So you're the fifth student Xavier has been talking about," Warren said, leaning casually against a nearby stone handrail. His wings draped over the rail, and they raised and extended back in what Jean had to deduce was him stretching.
"I guess?" she replied.
"What about -?" Scott began.
"He went galavanting off somewhere or other this morning," Hank said, waving a dismissive hand. "You know how he is. He'll be back when he's back."
Scott shook his head in exasperation. "Whatever. Jean needs time to get settled into her room, anyway."
Jean exchanged a few parting pleasantries with Hank and Warren as Scott led her back into the mansion. They made their way back round to the grand staircase and up to the second floor. On the landing, Scott paused and motioned to the three doors before them.
"This is the Professor's room," said Scott. "The middle door is actually an elevator, which you can get into downstairs just behind the main staircase. Then the two doors on either side lead to the Professor's bedroom, which has windows looking out over the backyard where we just were."
Satisfied, he turned to the left to continue leading her onto what would be her room.
"There's only five of us here?" Jean said, at last feeling that her thoughts were catching up to her.
"For now," Scott replied. "The Professor's dream is that this can be a thriving safe-haven for mutants someday. But every experiment has to start somewhere."
Jean thought back. "What about the other guy? The fifth one. Hank said he had left for the day?"
Scott sighed. "Yeah, he's . . . He has a hard time sitting still, so it's pretty common for him to run off during the day. I'm hoping he'll calm down a little bit once school starts tomorrow."
"Where does he run off to?" Jean wondered aloud. "This is a pretty big campus. Plus, I'm a little surprised Xavier would even let him run around without supervision."
"I'm not sure he would if he could help it," admitted Scott. "But the resources for the school, at this stage, aren't that much. Besides, I think the Professor just decided this wasn't a battle he wanted to pick, or at least not yet."
She wasn't sure quite what she'd expected, but free-reign to come and go wasn't it. For a boarding school, and one that was explicitly intended to protect vulnerable mutant youths, it seemed out of character to have a revolving door policy. But the way Scott spoke about it made it sound like a parent doing their best with a troubled child.
"A beast-boy, a guy with wings, and lazer eyes," Jean muttered to herself. It was so unbelievable, so absurd, that she couldn't help but laugh.
"Don't forget the girl who moves things with her mind," Scott laughed.
"Saving the best for last, eh, Scott?" said a voice behind her.
For what felt like the millionth time today, Jean nearly jumped out of her skin, startled at the unexpected presence. She turned to see a slim, suave boy with striking, slicked-back white hair.
The boy's hand shot out toward her, offered to shake. "I'm Pietro. What's your name?"
Jean shook his outstretched hand, noting that he had a slight accent. "My name is Jean."
"Pietro was our newest recruit until you came along," Scott supplanted. "He's also currently our only international student."
Pietro danced impatiently on his toes as he scooted by Jean and Scott. "No offense, but if Scott's going to give you my whole backstory, I'll catch you later."
With that, he ran off, and Jean realized that this was also a demonstration of his ability. Rather than walk or even run at a normal speed, Pietro moved as if in fast motion. Her eyes could track him, but by the time she registered what was happening, he was already out of sight.
"He's fast," Jean remarked in amazement.
Scott chuckled. "'Speedster' is the word the Professor used, I think." He turned to her, motioning to the door they now stood before. "And here we are: Your room."
Jean looked at the door and down the hall, taking mental inventory of where it was. Top of the stairs, turn left, walk down the hall, first door on the left. Easy enough.
Jean turned to Scott and smiled. "Thanks for the tour."
He shrugged sheepishly. "Any time."
Jean wasn't sure what else to say, feeling awkward while also looking forward to a moment alone to process the day. Scott seemed just as uncertain, and they stared at each other quietly for a moment.
Scott was the first to break the silence. "Well. If you need anything." He left the offer hanging, bowing slightly before walking back down the hall the way they'd come.
Jean watched him go for only a moment before turning to open the door to her new room.
The door opened into reveal an entryway along the sliding doors of her closet. Round the corner into her room she saw a small bathroom in the corner beyond the closet. The room itself was large enough to support a bed, dresser, and desk, all of which were present. Two windows looked out toward the middle section of the mansion, with a bit of a view of the entrance, and one looked out at the front yard itself.
On the front-facing windowsill was a light green vase with lush, pink roses. Xavier, or one of the other students, must have placed it here as a welcoming touch to the otherwise unlived in room. She flushed with thankfulness as she crossed the room to inhale the aroma.
She looked out the window, across the yard to the tree-lined path that had first brought her to the mansion. Beyond that lay the rest of Salem Center, New York, and somewhere not far away was Annandale-on-Hudson - her home.
She turned her back to the window, lost in the memories of the day's journey. She still felt out of sorts and uncertain about this whole affair, but Xavier seemed sincere in his hopes, and there was a certain charm to the other students that felt inviting.
Shaking off her reverie, she took another look at her room. Her suitcase was at the foot of the bed with her duffel bag, and aside from the flowers, these were the only personal touches to the room.
Loneliness started to creep up on her, and with it a wistfulness for the familiarity of her home. She was away from her family for the first time, away from the only town she'd ever lived in, under the roof of a man she didn't truly know and his strange pupils. She felt her eyes burn as tears threatened to form.
She shook her head, fighting off the emotions. The mansion and its inhabitants had been nothing but welcoming, and Jean decided to put her misgivings aside. After all, she couldn't deny her strange ability, and any help the Professor could give her would make her stay worthwhile.
No longer would she consider Annandale-on-Hudson home - at least not for now. Right now, she would embrace this new place as a new adventure. She had a new teacher, new friends, her first day of high school was in the morning. This was a fresh start, a chance for her to find her footing and begin stretching to reach the woman she would grow into.
This was her home now. She would embrace the newness, embrace the experience, embrace the teaching and her mutation and her brand new world.
She could succeed. She would succeed. And someday she might become someone exceptional.