Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or any of their characters, except those of my own creation.

The Face in the Mirror

            [In yet another incident of mutant violence, several stores in East Towne Mall were robbed last night by a group of youths believed to be mutants.  Two of the boys were caught and arrested three hours later with the stolen cash and merchandise in their possession.  Both boys vehemently maintain their innocence.  They will be sent to a mutant relocation center later this week.]

            I started awake and sat upright as the radio clicked on at precisely 6:30 am.  Serves them right, I thought as I got out of bed to get ready for school.  I put on the huge terrycloth robe and pink bunny slippers my hopelessly lame mother insisted every sixteen-year-old needed.  I then shuffled to the bathroom trying to force myself to wake up all the way.

            I had heard recently that icing your face every morning would shrink the bags under your eyes, but my mom wouldn't let me try it, so I started splashing my face with cold water every morning, hoping it was enough.  I sighed heavily, mourning all of the cool things she and dad wouldn't let me have.  Of course, once I started my new job after school today, I'd be able to buy it all for myself.

            It was with these thoughts in my mind that I looked up into the mirror.  Staring back at me was a face I didn't know.  The soft sable hair that had been my pride and joy was now starting to grow out completely white!  The hazel eyes I had inherited from my dad were starting to bleach out to silver.  My skin was turning faintly, but distinctly blue.  The face in the mirror was no longer that of the most popular girl in school, but one of those filthy, disgusting, EVIL mutants!  "NOOOOOOOO!"  There are no words to describe the anguish in my cry.  In one heart-breaking moment, I had become what I feared the most.  I had become the one thing my parents had taught me to hate.  I had become a monster.

            "Honey?! Sweetheart.  What's wrong?"  It was my mom.  I couldn't tell her.  I couldn't let her see.  I had to think of something.

            "I've got a huge zit on the end of my nose!  And it's two weeks to prom!"

            My mom stopped pounding on the door.  "Is that it?  You scream bloody murder over a pimple?"  I only wished my problems were so trivial.  "Just put some stuff on it and finish getting ready for school."  I buried my face in my hands so I wouldn't have to see the specter in the mirror.  What was I going to do?  I was breaking the law just by standing here, and, more importantly, my friends wouldn't hesitate to turn me in.  I was trapped.  In order to keep my friends and my freedom, I had to find a way to cover my new features and lie to everyone I loved.

            I took my shower, using the heat and steam to relax me and clear my head.  I noticed that the blue was coming in random patches all over.  There was no way I was going to pass muster in gym class.  I smiled for the first time that morning.  All I had to say to the coach was "women's troubles" and I'd be free for a week.

            I looked in the mirror again.  The white in my hair hadn't grown that far yet.  I had a headband that would cover it for a while.  The blue in my skin was blotchy, but it was still faint.  I should be able to cover it with make-up, I thought.

            I ran back to my room, hoping my little brother wouldn't see me.  I looked out my window to check the weather.  Fortunately, it was cool enough that I could get away with wearing a turtle-neck and long pants.  I put the band in my hair and generously made up my face.  I didn't look hip, but at least I looked human.  I was popular enough to hold out hope of starting a new fashion trend.

            For that week, my efforts were enough.  No one suspected.  I was even optimistic that I could make it through prom!  By that night, I had bought dye for my hair and a blue dress that covered well enough that the blue skin tone would blend in.

            There had been other changes, though.  I had been asthmatic for most of my life.  Now that seemed to be going away.  I no longer needed the contact lenses I'd just gotten for my sixteenth birthday as my vision had begun to correct itself.  My hair kept growing out white, but I waited until the day of the prom to dye it, so no white would be showing.  The blue was continuing to develop.  The blotches were growing bigger, and the tones were beginning to even out.  I would have been a lovely shade of pale blue if only it weren't on my skin.

            It hurt both of us that I had to tell my mother I wanted to get ready by myself.  I really wanted her there, but I didn't dare let her see what was happening to my body.  Hair gloriously black again, I set to my task.  I folded my hair into the stylish coiffure that I had been practicing for a month.  I applied make-up liberally and even remembered to cover the back of my neck.  I pulled on my dress, proud that I'd found one that not only hid my new color so well, but also one that I could get into without help.  I was able to settle everything in place before I pulled the gloves on.

            Regarding my reflection in the mirror, I was stunned at how beautiful I really was.  The blue of the dress suited me better than I had realized in the store.  It made the silver color in my eyes stand out and sparkle.  My friends had laughed at me when I chose a dress this color, but tonight, they were going to wish they'd done the same.  "Honey," my mom called from the hallway.  "Your date is here."

            I opened my door and saw my mother's eyes grow wide at the sight of me.  Her eyes began to tear as she told me she had never seen anything more beautiful and rushed to get her camera.

            As I started down the stairs, I heard my boyfriend complaining to my dad about how I'd picked a trashy color for my dress and how he was embarrassed to be seen with me.  I save my dad from punching him by making a dramatic entrance.  Both of their jaws dropped.  My boyfriend's eyes were popping.  "Wow!" he whispered, unable to say more.

            Mom snapped off what seemed like a million pictures before finally letting us go.  We stopped to pick up two of my friend and their dates with our shared limo and made our way to the restaurant.  The other girls kept oohing and ahing over how great I looked.  I nearly forgot what I was trying to hide.

            Even though I had helped decorate the gym, I was still amazed by the sight.  It was a gymnasium no longer, but an enchanted fantasy land.  My fears of being discovered fled from my thoughts.

            Everything that night was beautiful.  Even the nerds had managed to look respectable.  It was the most magical night of my life.  I didn't think anything could top it until I was announced as prom queen.  I felt like the queen of fairy land as I stepped onto the stage and let the class president put the tiara on my head.  Everyone was clapping and cheering as the prom king and I led the grand march.

            All too quickly, the evening was over, and we all went to my best friend's house for the post-prom party.  We danced and drank the night away.  No one cared about a thing but the next dance or the next beer.

            Normally the biggest boozer at the ball, I was a little surprised when the thought of imbibing made me queasy.  Not wanting to look bad in front of my friends, I drank anyway.  It hit me hard.  I was mortified when I started puking half an hour into the party.  I didn't even have a decent buzz for my trouble.

            I drank very little alcohol for the rest of the night, and when I did, I got sick again.  Very angry at my stomach, I drank mostly water and told everyone it was vodka.  No one noticed that I wasn't drunk.

            Around midnight, some of the boys opened up the pool.  The party spilled over into the back yard.  Foreseeing a drunken free-for-all, my friend's parents had drained the pool to keep kids from drowning.  They forgot that there was still a gaping hole in the ground lined with concrete.

            At about 1:30, I noticed that I hadn't seen my boyfriend in a while.  I went outside to see if I could find him. No one knew where he was.  An awful feeling sank into my gut and my hands started to tingle.  I was frantic.  I zigzagged through the crowd desperately trying to find him.  I stopped at the edge of the empty pool.  Where was he?  Suddenly, I was bumped from behind and fell into the shallow end.  The person who knocked me in asked if I was OK.  I looked up, and then I saw what had happened to my boyfriend.

            I cried out his name and rushed to his side.  There was a huge gash in his scalp.  I knelt down in the growing pool of blood, oblivious to the crowd.  My hands felt like they were on fire, and I felt an overpowering urge to put them on his injured head.  I did so and felt crackling energy trying to escape from my fingertips.  It was blocked.  Frantically, I tore off my gloves and touched him again.  This time the energy leapt out of me.  Dimly, I heard the crowd gasp.  I didn't care.  I closed my eyes and let the energy go.  The feeling of release was incredible.  I was in a state of euphoria which no drug could ever duplicate.

            After a while, I began to feel drained, but I immediately realized that I was too exhausted to let go.  "Get your filthy hands off him!" someone shouted.  Rough hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away, breaking the connection.  I huddled where I was trembling with fatigue.  When I lifted my weary eyes, I saw my boyfriend sitting up.  The cut on his forehead was gone.  I had healed him!  I looked down at my hands.  The burning had subsided to a dull tingling which was swiftly fading.  So that was my mutant power.  I wanted to heal again, to feel the ecstasy I had felt when I brought my boyfriend back to life.

            He looked up at me.  His best friend whispered something in his ear.  His eyes widened.  "Mutie!" he cried, and I was seized by the crowd.  They locked me in a bathroom until the police arrived.

            I no longer remember how long I sat in that jail cell, sitting on the cold concrete floor in my blood-stained dress.  The prostitutes and junkies sharing lock-up with me threw taunts and jibes my way all night long. My only coherent though during this time was, But I'm prom queen!

            At some point during the night, the other women grew tired of their insults and left me in peace.  I took the opportunity to wash up a bit in the tiny corner sink.  I stopped to look in the grimy mirror.  The face that stared back at me was Prom Queen.  A student, popular, college-bound. That was no longer who I was.  I was looking at an old friend who had suddenly become a stranger.  With the gritty soap, I washed away the make-up.  I looked in the mirror again.  The pale blue face that stared back was the real me.  There would be no more hiding, no more lies.  I was a mutant.  I was determined to be proud of my new identity.

            The other women backed away from me, apparently only then realizing just who and what they had been jeering at all night.  I resolved not to care.  Shortly before dawn, an officer brought us all some breakfast.  By virtue of my genetics, the others barred me from the food.  I wasn't hungry anyway.  I spent the day sitting in the corner, watching the faces change in my cell as women were released and more brought in.

            Around noon, a girl younger than me was brought in.  The officers dropped her on the cot and left her.  The other inmates observed that she must have gotten hold of some bad drugs.  My hands began to tingle as they had at the party.  Was it really just last night?

            Now knowing what the sensation was, I approached the girl.  The others backed away, not caring enough to protect her from a freak like me.  Gently, I held one of her hands with one of mine and placed the other on her forehead.  I closed my eyes and willed the energy to flow through me.  Flow it did, though different than before.  At first, I felt something slick and slimy trying to invade me.  I pushed harder, end eventually it gave way to the healing energy I carried.  The rapture I had experienced before returned.  I was once again lost in it.  A small part of me was frightened at losing control, but it was a small voice in the joyous storm.

            "Hear me, child," spoke a voice in my mind. "Come back to us."  I felt the voice pulling me back.  I fought, wanting the eternal ecstasy.  The voice's pull was strong.  I found myself back in my own body, which was now weak with exhaustion.  The girl I had healed was now free of the drug.  She was sitting up, examining her surroundings in wide-eyed fear.  Carefully, I touched her hand once more.  I thought I sensed that she was free of her addiction as well.  For the first time in what seemed like forever, I saw eyes see me as I truly was and hold no fear.  "Thank you," she said.

            I was so overcome by both emotion and exhaustion that I could only smile weakly in response.  I then turned to see who had pulled me out of my trance.  I saw only a bald man I had never seen before.  He was in a wheel chair and wearing a dark suit.  I don't know why, but I trusted him instantly.  I have never regretted my decision to leave with him.  I only hope to one day find a way to thank him.