I own NOTHING except for Kailee Michaels, she is my baby, she came out of my brain. Please ask before you use her for anything, Fics, comics, anything. Ask first. Or at least tell people where she's from and who made her. Geez, you think I spent two and a half days thinking about her, molding her personality, giving her little quirks, and perfecting her timid nature just to let some random guy use her for nothing? Gosh darn lilies... Anyways, title is pending and you'll find out why it's called that later, it should be plenty obvious. Was originally a Kurt/OC fic, although I MAY change that.

This is now OFFICIALLY a Kurt/OC fic. HAZZAH!

Ahem... now, get on to the story. I have fourth walls to annihilate.

My name is Kailee Michaels and I'm not exactly 'normal'. What is normal anyway? Everyone has their own little definition of what they perceive as 'normal'. Your normal could be waking up at six o'clock on the dot (God help you.) and catching a bus to the exact same coffee shop every morning and drinking the same old drink while reading a book or the newspaper, mulling over your thoughts while everyone else goes on about their days, and then someone else's normal could be sleeping all day, waking up at noon, and staying on the computer reading fanfiction and watching cats do hilarious and adorable stuff at night while drinking nothing but Monster energy drinks and munching on some chips until they succumb to exhaustion and pass out.

I'm getting off topic, aren't I? Maybe I should just start over. That would be the best thing to do. First impressions are important after all, and you only get one. People hardly ever give out second chances anymore... It's like you mess up once-make one teeny little mistake-and everyone hates you for it and will never let you live it down.

Oh, yeah... getting off topic again. Let's get back on the Train of Thought, shall we?

My name is Kailee Michaels and I'm… weird. Yes, that's it. Weird. I'm not talking standing alone in a corner doing nothing weird(although I can see myself doing that) or running around your own house naked singing Viking songs weird (that, I will NEVER do), I'm talking Mutant Weird. You see, I have recently discovered that I could do this… thing. this thing... it's really... heh strange, I guess. What Mutant ability isn't strange? It makes me feel extremely uncomfortable and just plain awkward. Well, I was awkward before but now it's just more so. I'm afraid to even talk to anyone else, let alone have physical contact with them. Although it's not like I was really social before all of this, I tended to just lock myself in my room and fiddle with my guitar...

And it's not that my ability is dangerous, it's actually quite harmless... unless you swallow some of it, I guess. Then it would be considered a choking hazard, I should come with a label, 'Keep Out of Reach of Children'. And nearly every time someone starts to talk to me or even LOOK at me it's like they flip on some kind of invisible switch and BOOM there's a black mess on the floor. I just… get so nervous around people because I'm afraid that they'll find out about what I am and they won't want to talk to me anymore, let alone be my friend. I... I've tried controlling it and sometimes it works, but there are times when I just get really emotional and I can't do anything to stop it.

Maybe I should explain what my ability is, or at least try. That would probably help you to understand my situation better.

I can… turn into slime, basically. It's not radioactive like the kind you see in all of those sci-fi movies, it's just this inky black substance that can move around and creep people out.

The only one who knows about my mutation is my grandmother who lives down in Bayville. She's a nice woman who's been letting me stay with her since my parents are out on this business trip to Washington. They'll be gone for a few weeks and I dread the day that they return. My parents absolutely HATE mutants with a passion, and I doubt that they're going to be willing to let their hate go when they find out that their only daughter just so happens to be one of the so-called 'monsters'. They'd turn me into the police or... worse, one of those Anti-Mutant Agencies that are always on the news. They'd let them experiment on me and they wouldn't care. Why would they? They never cared about me before. I'm just this little smudge on their family portrait that they would most-likely be happy to just wipe off-like I was never there, like I didn't exist.

And as if to make everything worse Grandma decides to just enroll me in Bayville High. She says that there are plenty of teenaged mutants there and that they could help me. Hah, help? The only help any high-schooler can give a girl like me is showing me how easy it is to fit a head in a toilet or how cramped it is in a cleaning closet. Grandma… clearly doesn't understand the concept of high school. For someone like me it's those long hours of agonizing social interactions and teachers yelling at you and giving you mountains of homework that they expect you to finish and turn in the very next day. Now, with the mutation it will be even more so, the second someone finds out what I am it'll spread like wild fire and the next thing you know I'm being shoved into a locker, and trust me lockers are not comfortable… at all.

"Ms. Michaels," the teacher spoke and my head jolted forward and away from my notes. My mind immediately began to jump to conclusions. Oh God, what if he knew? How did he find out though? My hands aren't turning into puddles again, right? I looked down to my pale hands to find that they were perfectly fine, not one patch of the black sludge. Oh no, don't tell me my face is melting. Please don't let my face be melting; I don't like it when my face melts. I like it just the way it is, on my face-not dripping and oozing like some kind of rotten mess that you find in the bottom of a garbage can after Mardi Gras. But there was no way that he could have found out right?

… Right?

"Since you're new here why don't you stand up and tell the class a little bit about yourself?" he suggested and I heaved a sigh of relief. Of course my relief was short lived when what he said finally registered in my mind, and suddenly a whole flurry of thoughts began racing through the nervous wreck that was my brain. This, was exactly the thing that I had wanted to avoid on my first day. I've seen all of the movies where a new kid arrives and they go up to the front of the class... it all ends horribly and the kid is either covered spit balls or being pelted by paper airplanes.

"U-uh, um… I would actually prefer to just sit here... and not do that." I squeaked, my voice cracking in multiple areas as my gray eyes began darting everywhere except for his stone cold stare. Look, one of the tiles isn't turned the right way... that isn't helping. There's nothing here that you can distract yourself with, Kailee. So you might as well just stand up and get it over with... NOPE. Oh God, oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no. It's going to happen; I can feel my skin rippling already. I can hear the screams and the shouts. Please don't make me do this. I really don't want them to know.

I don't want ANYONE to know.

"Just stand up, tell us your name and something about yourself." He said sternly, most likely trying to scare me into doing the task. I closed my eyes for a few seconds as my brows furrowed together. Taking deep breaths I swallowed hard before finally coming to a stand, my legs were shaking and threatening to change into two wobbly black blobs right there. "Good, now go on."

I hate you so much, you toupee wearing, ugly tied, little man.

I mumbled, hoping that he would take it and leave me alone to sulk.

"Could you repeat that?"

Oh God, "My name is Kailee Michaels and I like the guitar."

"What was that?"

... You... are going to get slapped one day-not by me, but by someone else. Someone way bigger than me, with multiple piercings and a giant Doberman named Killer.

Isn't that enough? Come on, the guy in the corner could hear me-and he's listening to his iPod! At least… I think he heard me. He was nodding his head… then again that could just be his music. What did this teacher guy want? A pep cheer blasted at him through a megaphone? Oh I'll give him that… minus the megaphone bit. I don't have a mega phone; even if I did I wouldn't know how to use it.

Or… I could totally wimp out like I'm doing right now, "My name is Kailee Michaels and I like to play the guitar."

Geez, Kailee. Grow a backbone, won't you?

He shook his head, "In Spanish, please."

"Spanish?" I looked to the board and discovered that the word 'Spanish' had been written in big, white, letters in chalk. It was even underlined three times and circled. "This isn't Calculus?" he shook his head and my mouth went into a small 'o'. "Oooohhhh. That... that would explain a LOT. I... sorry, for... for um, interrupting your class time."

Gosh you're so stupid! Why didn't you look at the board when you came in? Are you blind, or do you actually enjoy having everyone laugh and talk about how stupid you are behind your back? You should have double-checked the room number, you idiot! Now, get out of this room and go find your real your class, you despicable, moronic excuse for a mutant.