Okay, a lot of people asked me about her mutation, I'm not sure about writing this one, but I figured what the hell, one chapter isn't going to hurt, right? Let me know what you think - obviously this is a lttle darker than the last one because it's sort of dealing with the aftermath of what ended up being a pretty awful stuation.

If you haven't read 'first interview' this probably won't make much sense to you. Also it contains spoilers for that one, so if you think you might want to read it READ IT FIRST! Just an idea. Do what you like.

I accept no kind of responsibility for any of this. I think it should be obvious that I don't own the x-men and have no rights etc yada yada

postgate

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After Math

You can spend a really long time lying to yourself before you have to admit the truth. I mean that. You can. Apparently I can't. I can spend a very small amount of time lying to myself before, apparently the truth is going to turn around and slap me in the face. My name is Amanda Jacobson, and I'm a mutant.

This was brought most forcefully home to me when I walked into a maths lesson to find a class full of teenagers chanting; "Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer," the minute I walked through the door.

It wasn't like I was arguing with them. In fact, the very point is, apparently, that I entirely agree with them. It seems that this is what the problem is. See, according to the tests, this is not what they think of me, it's what I think of me, and the chanting was a sort of subconscious admittance that I'm feeling a little bit guilty about the fact that I killed my mum.

So, you see, I'm not kidding when I say that while you might be able to lie to yourself for a long time, I might not be so fortunate.

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Standing up in front of a class is always something of a heady experience. In my old school the rush came at least three times a day; first thing in the morning when they walked in, after play and after lunch. You'd get other rushes, when you changed tack in the middle of a session, or tried something you weren't sure of; but always, always, you get one when you first walk in. And the biggest one was the first class of the day. And bigger than that was the one on a Monday morning, when you haven't seen them for two days. And bigger than that is the one after the holidays. And it's always strongest when they're a new class and you don't know them that well. You never know which way they are going to jump.

"Starter; angle estimates, calcs and missing points race," I mutter. You see athletes doing this on the starting line; this is how I'm going to run the race, throw the javelin, jump, whatever. I've listened to teachers do it as they walk down the corridors before class: This is how I'm going to run the session. Start to finish. There is a Plan. Remember it. Don't get tied in. "Trig, Soc cah toa. Don't forget the protractors and calculators." I reach the door. "Okay let's do this," I say and open the door.

"Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer," I shut the door again, heart beating a mile a minute. How did they know? Even out in the corridor I can hear them.

"Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer..."

"Oh shit," I breathe. I've never faced anything like this before. I mean, you always kind of expect a rebellion, but this. I open the door again, just a little. "Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer," twenty-five kids, chanting in unison. I shouldn't go in there, God knows what might happen. Equally I can't leave them in there on their own. That would be irresponsible. I lean against the wall, trying to block out the sound. Trying desperately to think.

"Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer, Mur-der-rer."

"Amanda, keep calm and listen to my voice," I look around wildly. It's the Professor's voice but it's coming from thin air. I'd forgotten he could do that.

"Go to the end of the corridor, enter the lift," he says.

"The kids," I say, as if he might have forgotten them.

"Dr McCoy is on his way to them now. You need to leave right away." You're not fucking kidding, I think as I head down the corridor, following his instructions.

I enter the lift. It was right there, waiting for me. It starts to move before I can touch a button. It's going down.

"For your own safety I am putting you in a holding room," the Professor tells me. "Jean and I will join you shortly. Until we arrive you will need to lock the door. We were afraid this might happen."

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