Chapter One: Shades of Grey
I was a good girl once and obedient as can be. I did what I was told when I was told. I wasn't always a rebellious teen. I was a good girl once.
When people hear about rebellious teens they think of delinquency and that they do all those things because they hate their parents. I've been called a delinquent quite a few times but I don't hate my parents, not completely anyway. So what happened?
Parents shouldn't keep secrets. Well when a pet dies and any other circumstances like that calls for a white lie now and again. But in general secrets destroy trust in family dynamics.
Say: you're adopted and you find the adoption papers whine you were (insert average/normal activity here.)
So your parents aren't your real birth parents. They can't donate you their kidneys or any of that good stuff. Oh but lets not forget you have been lied to. But in the grand scheme of things those things can be really trivial. So what? Who cares if your parents didn't get down and dirty to make you? In all cases that's just nasty yet in some extremely rare cases while raising you they might have actually loved you. Shouldn't that count for something?
But alas that's not my case.
Because I'm pretty sure John and Elaine are my real parents. But you'd never know they did grow up through the Hippy age. So I can't be too sure. But I wouldn't say they're happy free-spirited hippy people now or when I was growing up. The only evidence of their Hippy-isms are the old photos. Anyway dear ol' Dad works as a history professor at Bard College and Mom is a stay at home mom homemaker.
I am not homeschooled. But it's true about what they say about kids who have parents as teachers and or in my case professors that they're a lot stricter and hold higher standards for their children as educators. I didn't use to mind so much when growing up. So what went wrong?
Four years ago. The day Washington held a conference with all the Great Leaders of the World on Ellis Island. They came together to talk about something about the mutant problem. Which I figure shouldn't be much of a problem. Powers, WMD, or even handguns are only as dangerous as the people who wield them or something like that.
But why they were meeting there didn't directly affect my life, at least I don't think it did. It's actually what happens before and after the conference. I just got home from school when noticed mom and dad looked agitated in front of the living room television set.
It was definitely quiet time in the Grey household with three pairs of eyes glued to the television. Five minutes into the actual ceremony during one of the speeches (I don't remember which) a thick blanket of fog eliminated from the torch of the Statue of Liberty.
Initial confusion came first but as the light came closer it turn to panic. They thought they were under attack or something, but before it reachs them it vanished. Early on the news the next day, new stations reported it as part of the fireworks display going off too soon. Flipping to the next channel I smelled a cover up.
Other channels reported it as a mutant attack and everything seem to freeze. My mom stops cooking breakfast and dad looks up from his paper. I remember my fingers twitched on the remote from all the tension. I didn't dare to change the channel. A sense of relief washes over when it was reported the attack was stopped by a group of mutants.
The name Professor something was it Savior? No, that wasn't it: Professor Xavier, yeah that was it. At the sound of that names name both my parents returned to their daily routine calmed and normal-like. This only added to my confusion.
I knew I heard that name before (I must have) but I could place where or when, but concluded him to be one of dad's colleagues. But he wasn't.
Dad said he was the headmaster for Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. I think he was the founder too guessing from the name. Dad also told me he was one of my sister's teachers. The last part I could tell he let slip almost like he didn't want to tell me.
I dropped the remote onto the floor. The sound echoed against the hard wood floor as his words rung in my ears. Even mom stopped cooking all from the name Jean. Twelve years of my life, I have never heard of anyone by that name let alone know she was a Grey or my sister. That meant I wasn't an only child. For the first time I didn't feel so alone or that I wasn't going to be lonely anymore.
Growing up I didn't have to share my toys with anyone. As a result this made it harder for me to learn the concept of sharing. That and all that came with having an older sibling.
Jean Gray was ten years older then me I later found out. Though from what I could gather from our parents she was a mutant. But I couldn't detect how they felt about it; I mean my parents were against mutant violence but they just grew quieter about it so I just stopped asking.
I went up to my room carefully looking at all the photos for any trace of her I might have missed while growing up. Passing the last embarrassing photo of me I shut my door and turn on my computer and I googled her. Which lead me to her school and to her student file.
I found it all with ease: her grades, her achievements, honors, and even her credentials. The list went on and on. It was almost like someone wanted me to find them. All of which did little to help my low self-esteem.
Scrolling down I found her school photos. From this I found out she looked nothing like me. Her hair was a beautiful fiery red like mom's while mine was just plain and dark like dad's hair. The only thing that may have distinguished us as related was our piercing green eyes we both inherited from dad. I read over her high marks and honors again and couldn't stop feeling a little jealous. I on the other hand am not as bright.
After she graduated she stayed on as one of the teaching staff at the school and from what I could tell never left since. Now that just pissed me off. Why hadn't she come home to visit? Not once and it wasn't like they kicked her out of the house. Ever since I found out they can't stop singing her praises and I knew my parents were relieved to finally talk about her to me.
I was pissed off at that too, how they could keep this from me. I mean really twelve years is kind of a long time to keep this kind of information from a child.
I didn't completely hate my parents for it cause I was more angry with her. If only she came home at least once and met me just maybe I . . .
At this point I didn't out right become a problem child that I'm told constantly that I am, because over the next two years I learned to oppress my anger. And things started to return to normal, for two years it went back to just the three of us. But that day ended the day I collapsed on the living room floor.
I'd just got home from school with an A plus history test in hand that dad helped me cram well tutored for. I thought we could go out to celebrate. The test paper flew out of my hands and my eyes squeezed shut to conceal my tears from the pain in my head. I brought my head to between my hands but that didn't stop my body from violent tremors.
I just wanted the pain to stop. I remember wanting to die just to make the pain go away.
And it stopped and I open my eyes. My vision still hazy from my tears I look up to see my mom and my dad's relieve faces. For a split second I felt safe then their faces twisted into agony. My heart raced up again this time from the fear of losing them. I didn't know what to do cause I was helpless to help them.
Their pain lasted longer then mine did and their screams echoed in my ears reminding me how useless I was. When they stopped screaming I braced myself for the pain again, I didn't care if it was my turn just that their pain had stopped. Seconds later nothing, no pain, nothing; I open my eyes just as my mother pulls me inter her arms.
About an hour later the president delivers a speech on what had just happened. It's usually the three of us on the couch to watch the news but I wasn't up for it and so I went up to my room and fell asleep.
I jolted awake from my nightmare to hear a aloud crash downstairs. Till this day I never remember what that nightmare was about but either way it didn't matter. When I got down stairs it was like I woke up and reality become the real nightmare.
I walked down to the site of my mother crying again as my father struggled to keep her up. I fought back tears but was unsuccessful. And as I got closer I stepped on our cordless phone on the floor. My mother's red hair was buried under my father's chin. His face extremely pale and eyes bloodshot, his complexion was normally pale. Like mine since I inherited the genes from him, but this time he looked zombie like with all the blood drained from his face.
"She's gone." My mother sobbed in his chest.
"Who?" My voiced hoarse in my throat. From the sound of my voice my mother cried harder. Afraid she wasn't going to tell me I tried to ask again but my voice couldn't produce a coherent sound.
So my dad answered, "Your sister." His voice cracks as he said it.
I didn't share my parents anguish cause I was far from their emotional state. Anger exploded in my chest. Up until now I thought I had my anger in check but now I was I was beyond angrier then I've ever been. "Good." My voice came out surprisingly strong. "Good riddance-"
"Good riddance?" My father's voice echoing my words mockingly and my mother look up at me with confused stained eyes.
"Yes-" I started. I was so ready to burst all the feelings I kept dormant for so long.
"She's your sister!" My father shouted. In my childhood my father rarely raised his voice but I wasn't going to let him defend her. Not when she's never been around. She didn't deserve it. Not one phone call, postcard, or even an email to acknowledge we existed and I don't even think she knew I exist.
"She's already dead to me . . ." dead to us, I wanted to finish. They looked on at me with disgust. They eyes shown hatred and my heart ached because all of it was directed at me. I fought back tears that have already been spilled.
"Go." They say together, I open my mouth to protest, to defend myself.
"No. Just go up to your room. Now!" I ran to my room tears streaming down my face. I slammed my door and fell on my bed crying myself to sleep. Only when light shows through my window did I finally drifted off to sleep. I didn't get up to go to school that morning I just didn't care. It was dark outside when I finally left my bed. I hid at the top of the stairs.
My mom was on the phone calling the school, probably making up an excuse for my absence. Just month later she stopped making excuses for me altogether.
Two years and four months from then, I was a full-fledged problem child. From my teachers and the school consolers labeled me to be a delinquent.
That day I came home early from school. Ok so I skipped school and caught the bus home. I got off at my stop and as came up to my street I heard the sounds of sirens. I ran the rest of the way to see fire trucks and police squad cars parked outside my house at least what was left of it.
The foundation of our two story house was nonexistent so that the second level collapsed over onto the first. My brain went on autopilot. The yellow caution type around the perimeter didn't stop me though a firefighter did. I remembered screaming something at him to let me go but he just wouldn't until I was back behind the yellow tape. I wanted to punch his lights out but my mother came out of nowhere and restrains me.
It was dark out when I woke up from the inside of a police squad car. From the window I see my parents were handed three small boxes. I'm guessing it was all the stuff they could salvage from the house. I leaned in trying to listen to their conversation.
"My deepest apologize," To my ears it sounded almost mockingly, "But the foundation of your house is beyond repair." The firefighter said he one who pulled me from my home. I glared at him.
"So what does this mean?" My father asked cradling my mother. In her emotional state she was going to fall without his support.
"You won't be able to move back into your house. I'm sorry." I looked a way my face already stained with tears.
From that night on dad rented a cheap two bed room apartment and started working longer hours and mom well mom was just mom. Like always she tried her best to stay strong to stay normal but I knew how broken up inside she was.
Hell we all were! But I didn't make it any better. I just made things worst.
But it's not like everyone at school make it all that easier. I became the girl with the freak accident that got her house imploded. Which did wonders for my social statues, since then I've gotten into a lot more fights. My parent's and the school's reaction to this was to sent me to the school counselor twice a week.
With the annoying question asked, "How does that make you feel?"
What do you think it suppose to makes me feel?
I'm pretty pissed off, that's what!
End of Prologue!
A/N: Yay Finished! Dances around Well, I don't usually write for this fandom but I'm a huge X-Men fan, among other things, and I felt like I really should to write this. Sorry if it was kind of boring, I just needed to set up the stage, if you will. See you in the next chapter.