Disclaimers: The originals are mine, no touchy. The canons are not. Help yourselves.

Author's note: These pairings? Random as hell I know. Also, the stories are not in chronological order.

Name: Andrew Russell Summers

School Attending: The Correctional Military Facility of Bayville

Grade: Fifth

Father's name: Scott Summers

Mother's name: Jean Grey-Summers

"Military Facility? That's not fair! Dad, tell her that's not fair!" Rusty begged, pointing at his mother.

"But, honey, it's the only other private school around here that you haven't gotten kicked out of! And we don't want you to go to public school," Jean explained patiently to her son.

"But military facility. Let me say that again, facility. That just says to me, Rusty will die!"

"He has a point. It's not even academy. Those people are freaky. You walk in and they have the rolled up papers." Scott paused to roll up his newspaper. "And they're like 'Stand up straight, soldier!'" He said smacking the air with the paper. He glanced at his wife who glared at him. "I'm gonna get something to eat." He mumbled, scratching his butt and heading for the kitchen.

Rusty looked the carpet. "I wish I hadn't seen that," he mumbled, but he shook his head and turned his mind back to the task at hand: pleading his way into public school.

"Mom, aren't you the one always going on about how 'if mutants are going to be accepted in society we have to start at the basic levels of public services, and yet you're keeping your own son from those basic levels. Makes you sound like a hypocrite," Rusty quirked a red eyebrow at his mother and crossed his arms. The argument was awesomely well thought for a ten year old

And stolen from Storm.

Jean blinked, not expecting such a well thought out comeback from her delinquent son. "Well, honey, we'd just rather that our children had a better education that most."

How else am I gonna get into Harvard, Rusty thought, turning on his heel and storming out of the living room.

"I heard that!" Jean shouted after her son.

"Having a telepathic mother sucks!" Rusty shouted.

~The Next Morning

Rusty stared into his mirror in abject horror. "I ain't doing it!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Jean stuck her head into the room. "Yes, you are."

"Look at me, Mother!" Rusty said spinning around to face her. "What the heck is this? I look like a poster boy for the San Francisco Gay Day!"

"Rusty, we don't-"

"Come on, I look like a friggin' jackass!"

"Rusty!"

"This is the most disgusting thing that I have ever seen. I have seen pools of vomit that are prettier!" He tugged at the maroon blazer that he was wearing and unbuttoned it to reveal the lavender shirt underneath it. "Do you have any idea what Harley and Chloe are going to do to me when they see this?"

Jean sighed. "They won't say a thing."

Rusty sputtered. "Are we talking about the same people?"

Chloe Drake sat at the kitchen table. "Hey, I think my cereal's trying to tell me something. Look it says Oooooo."

Jubilee tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes. "Bobby, have you been letting Chloe watch Family Guy again?"

Bobby's eyes shifted guiltily. "Uhm, nooooo."

Jubilee looked at her husband. "Really, Bobby?"

"Of course not!" Bobby objected. "I would never allow my daughter to watch something with such content."

Jubilee looked at her daughter. "Honey, have you been watching Family Guy with Daddy?"

Chloe frowned slightly. "Is that show with Stewie?"

"Yes."

"Yep!"

Harley Logan sat picking at her shredded cheese. "I don't wanna eat this."

Logan looked at his daughter oddly. "You always have toast and cheese. Are you sick or something?"

Harley blew her nose so loud and so hard that it sounded like a goose honking. "Oh," was all Logan said. "Mother give anything to you yet?"

Harley extended her tongue to show that it was an unnatural shade of green. "I'll take that as a yes." Logan grumbled, wondering if Storm's herbal remedy had anything to do with how bad Harley was feeling.

All the conversation in the kitchen cut off abruptly when Rusty slouched into kitchen. Chloe and Harley exchanged glances and attempted to smother their laughter behind their hands. Jubilee visibly recoiled at the unfortunate sight.

"Oh just laugh," Rusty snapped, slamming his backpack down on the table and glaring at his friends. Harley and Chloe's laughter erupted. Chloe nearly fell out of her chair.

"What happened to you?" Logan and Bobby asked in complete horrified unison.

"My mother," Rusty gritted out.

"You got kicked out the Prepatory already?" Bobby asked. "I'm impressed. I couldn't have done it that fast if I tried." Jubilee kicked her husband under the table. "Ow!" Bobby cried rubbing his shin and glared at his wife.

~Several Weeks Later

Jean pulled her gas guzzling SUV to a stop in the mostly empty parking lot. "Scott, don't look like that." She said. "This is the first time we haven't had a bad report!"

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about," Scott grumbled, slamming the door to the passenger side.

Jean rolled her eyes and the two walked toward the squat dismally gray building that had been their son's educational home for the past few months. The front door appeared to be made out of nothing but Plexiglas and black iron bars. No handle, no crease to show where the door might open. Only a black intercom was mounted beside. Warily, Scott pushed the button.

A bored, nasal voice bleated out. "What're you here for?"

"Parent-Teacher conference," Scott replied.

"Names?"

"Scott Summers and Jean Grey-Summers."

A pause and then, "Please stand away from the door." Jean and Scott both took a step back and with the grinding of gritty gears the glass split apart and the bars raised. "Enter now," the voice ordered and then as if sensing their hesitation. "Now!"

The two X-men hurried through the door, and as soon as their feet touched the mat on the other side of the entrance. The black bars came rushing down with a screech causing both to jump.

"I don't like this place," Jean murmured.

"Oh, yes, because our child is too precious for public school. Like this place is better," Scott said out of the corner of his mouth.

They came to a desk that was surrounded with TV screens, which were presumably hooked to the video surveillance system except one that was playing a screaming match that could only belong to a soap opera. Two rent-a-cops and an older woman with a gigantic red beehive and cakes of makeup were both watch that particular screen with rapt attention.

"Excuse me," Jean smiled brightly, "But-"

The secretary raised a long tapered finger with almost equally long red tapered fingernail. "Hold on one second, honey."

The screams faded into, "Mondays this fall" and the secretary swiveled her chair around to face Jean and Scott. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"I'm Jean and this is my husband Scott, and we're here for a Parent-Teacher conference. Last name: Summers."

The two rent-a-cops froze and jerked up as if something had sent them into high alert. The secretary looked up at them over her blue cat's eye glasses. "You're Andrew Russell's parents?"

" Well, yes." Jean frowned.

"God bless you," was all the secretary said. "His classroom's all the way at the end of the hallway, last door on your right."

Scott noted that she hadn't looked at list or at the computer files. But maybe she knew all the kid's classes, Scott thought, trying to be optimistic, a hard thing to do when his son was involved. And It was a small school, er, facility, er whatever.

"What do you think she meant by 'God bless you?'" Jean asked interrupting Scott's mental pep talk.

We're probably about to find out, he thought, but merely shrugged at answer to his wife's question. He stepped forward toward the door and knocked on it.

There was a grumble on the other end of the door that seemed to be saying "Dumb pin," but Scott decided that made no sense and opened the door. A huge bear like man, with shoulders that looked like someone had roped several linebackers together and a gigantic mustache was sitting crouched behind the desk.

"So you're Summers' parent, are you?" His voice had a very noticeable Texan twang. His black beady little eyes roved over the two of them. "Well, you look like fine normal people, but that's usually the case. Even your son looks sane when you first meet him, but then he's got them eyes." Sarge widened one of his eyes so that it looked like it might very well bulge out of its socket.

"Have a seat," he motioned to two chairs that were next to his large green, duct tape patched, swivel chair.

"Now, I don't like bandying around the point, Mr. and Mrs. Summers, so I'll just get right to the point. You have a very bright boy, extremely intelligent, and creative too. He's also very popular. Everybody likes him. Not many people know there are four types of intelligence and they are creative intelligence, people intelligence, and book smart intelligence, and common sense. And not many people have all four. But Summers does and that's a right good achievement."

Jean was confused but smiling slightly at the compliment. "So, Rusty is behaving himself then?" she ventured slowly, hopefully.

Sarge stared at Jean for a moment and then began laughing harder than Scott had previously thought possible. About five minutes later, Sarge wiped tears from his eyes. "Like I said, Mr. and Mrs. Summers, I don't like to mince words and I guess the easiest way to explain this would be . . . your son's the spawn of the Devil."

"I beg your pardon?" Jean exclaimed indignantly, shooting up even straight in the chair.

"Now, I meant that no offense to yourselves," Sarge twanged. "But I have taught kids that have holes in strange places for rings and are inked all over with weird pictures. But never have I ever had a student that was as inherently evil as Andrew Russell Dane Summers. He's like, I dunno, Darth Vader or something.

"Are you sure you didn't sign your first born child over to evil?" He asked.

Jean's mouth worked up and down as if she was trying to muster up the right words.

But completely unperturbed, Sarge continued on. "But everything will be all right. I was the same at his age, but my parents wisely made the choice to enroll me a school much like this and now I'm just fine. I thank you kindly for your time, but I'm expecting another set of parents in two minutes if you don't mind?"

And before they quite knew it had happened, they had been ushered out the door and it had been closed firmly behind him.

In the first time since he had met her, Jean was absolutely silent. She didn't say a word as they walked down the hallway, out to the car, or on the twenty-minute drive home. She didn't even open her mouth until they were in their room.

"We're enrolling him in public school tomorrow," Jean finally managed to spit out after almost three hours of silence.

Rusty, whose ear was pressed against his parents' door, silently grinned. He got to his feet and trotted to the end of the hallway where Chloe's room was located.

"Ladies," he grinned. "You are evil geniuses."

Chloe and Harley looked up from the Clue board. "Tell us something we don't know. Wanna be Mustard?" Chloe drawled, pushing her glasses up her nose. Harley just smirked.

Rusty sank to the ground and grabbed the yellow piece. His two best friends were really evil at heart, but that's why he loved them.