A/N: Okay so in my world, the professor is still alive, The Pheonix only fucked with his telepathy a bit, Scott is missing, no one really knows what happned to him (But the professor has his suspicians...), Logan is Logan, angsty and moody, but still drops in and out, mor in nowadays...Beast is a teacher at the school, but still has all of his political connections, and has taken over the role of recruitment. Rogue and Magneto both got cured, but some new light is being shed on the back draft of it, I plan to introduce several characters from the comic, including everyone's fav. Cajun, but that will be for later.
I swear to my god and any god that my readers worship, that i do not own any characters but my own, and make no profit from this story.
Please Review, I'm not sure if i'm gonna continue, I might take it down in the response if bad. There's no X men in this chapt, but someone blue will be showing up soon!
Enjoy--
Syril
Chapter One
"Do you hear me!?"
Izzy blinked once at the outraged woman in front of her, rousing her from the trance she'd let herself sink into since the onslaught of scolding began. "Of course I hear you." Her classmates snickered softly, the sound echoing through Izzy's head like a caress compared to the assault of Mrs. Smith's offence. How could she not? The woman had reached volumes tantamount to a thunder storm.
Mrs. Smith's face turned redder, if that was possible. "I don't like your tone, missy! It's an attitude like that that's going to land your insolent little butt in jail. Honestly, what does your mother think of you?"
Frankly, Izzy had no idea what her mother had to do with anything, and as she ran a pale hand through her messily cut, died black hair she arched a brow at Mrs. Smith, her English teacher. But if the good teacher was asking..."She thinks I'm the devil spawn of her sins come back to haunt her, ma'am."
Mrs. Smith's wrinkly chins jiggled as she stared down at Izzy with a look of shock. Sadly the silence this brought was short lived. The old woman's mouth snapped shut and her beady eyes gleamed down at Izzy. "I've had enough of your cheek and disrespect, Isabelle Richter. Leave my classroom immediately. I'm sure the principle is going to be eager to hear about this!"
Izzy sighed and hauled herself to her feet, to the applauding and cheers of her classmates.
"Right on!"
"You lucky bitch!"
"A new record, Richter," her classmates called.
However they all fell silent under Mrs. Smith sharp eyes and even sharp snap of "Silent!"
It was a record. Thirty minutes into the new semester and she was already being sent to the principles office. A small smile slid across the girl's face as she looked over her situation. The principles office on the first day, let alone the first period, was never a good thing…If she was going down, she might as well do it well.
Sauntering over to the door, Izzy stopped and turned to give Mrs. Smith her trademark insolent smirk. Bowing from the waist, as she swung her book bag up to her shoulder, she said loudly. "A pleasure as always, ma'am."
The look on the pissy old woman's face was priceless.
A new round of cheers left her as she swung the metal door shut, as well as Mrs. Smith's roaring attempts to quiet her class. Izzy felt a brief flash of pity for the woman, for her classmates were all the same as her. They had been deemed "problem children" from a young age, and by the time they got to tenth grade had had enough time to perfect their attitudes of disrespect and disdain for the establishment. Izzy knew it was only luck that had singled her out this morning for Smith's wrath, which was in fact an ill-concealed power play. But, hey, if smacking Izzy hands and berating her publicly made the woman feel more in control, why not just go along without a fuss? It got her away from the crowds and out of any homework, and who didn't enjoy a little educational disruption?
Smith's control over the class was all an illusion, anyway. The only reason any of those other kids was that, like her, if they didn't show up to school they would be expelled and in a whole lot of hurt with their parents.
Most of them anyway. But like Izzy, several others were only there because it helped keep them covered. It helped throw off people from thinking they were mutants. If they behaved like all the other human delinquents at the school, what reason would anyone have to think that they were different?
Ah, the joys of mutanthood, Izzy thought as she began to walk towards the stairs that would lead her to the main office. So far, no one had been alerted to her own condition. She yawned and jumped down the last two steps.
"What happened now?"
Principle Shirley shuffled through the papers on his desk, squinting about through his glasses, not two hours after Mrs. Smith's banishment. First day of new semester jitters and kinks had kept the administration hopping until then, allowing Izzy to sit in a corner and stare blankly until someone could get to her. And it was the big man himself.
"Didn't Mrs. Smith send down a note or something?"
Shirley squinted at her, his annoyance flickering across his face. "It's a wonder I haven't expelled you yet, Richter. The terms of your academic probation were clear. These little incidents were supposed to have stopped, by now. Quite frankly, I am sick of this from you." Shirley seemed to have come to an acceptable order for the papers on his desk, as he left them stacked neatly there in front of him and turned all his attention to her. "Now are you going to tell me what happened or should I go fetch some witnesses? Those are always so fun for us. Or I could go get Mrs. Smith. I'm sure she would be delighted to tell me what happened."
Shirley was serious. Whenever his sarcasm started to show, as with that comment about witnesses, the rotund, balding, bespectacled man began to hand out his most nasty punishments. Like trash pick-up. Or essays.
Izzy sighed and at un straight in her rigid wooden chair. Shirley wasn't really a bad guy. He was nice enough when you weren't in his office for something bad, which was rare for her, and had a fairly decent sense of humor and a way with sarcasm that inspired envy from many of it's receivers. It couldn't hurt to give him the impression that she cared.
"I suppose I was looking at her wrong, sir."
"Ah, yes, you looks do tend to bring out the best in your teachers, don't they, Richter?"
"It's a gift and a curse, sir. But I am glad to help Mrs. Smith vent her frustrations in anyway I can. It's not healthy for anyone to keep such feelings cooped un inside."
"Oh? And what feelings are these?"
"The usual. Disgust with my poor attitude, horror at my tone, shock and frustration over her ineffective teaching methods. Concern for my home life, she did ask about my mother."
"Concern. I'm sure it was concern that made be toss you out of her hair and down to us."
"Surely it was. She is a teacher."
Shirley's face twitched a bit at this. It looked like he was trying to repress a smile, but Izzy knew better than to get too hopeful.
"I, of course, answered her questions. It's rude to ignore someone when the ask you something. Even if they are trying to deafen you with their volume."
Shirley raised his brows and folded his hands under his pudgy chin. "And what, pray tell, forced her to this volume? Advanced cabinet making heard it in woodshop, by the way."
Izzy gave the principle her most winning grin. "The inspiring aura of my winning personality?"
Shirley grinned back. "I think not."
Izzy sighed. Not matter the sarcastic skills, Shirley was still a teacher. And teachers never entertained the idea that other teachers yelled and sent students to the office for failed dominance plays. "What's the verdict?"
Shirley got serious again. "Hmm, for you twentieth visit to my office this year? I don't know….Expulsion is starting to look nice, but I really don't want to do that to you, Richter. I really don't."
Izzy looked down. Great. The generally expected looked like it had now become inevitable. Wasn't this going to be fun when she got home? Doubtless her sister and mother would have a riot with this news. Isabelle was finally expelled, thus fulfilling all the expectations anyone had ever held for her. She could now die in peace.
Shuffling papers sounded again, and Shirley spoke. "I'm going to set up an appointment with your mother and myself, say seven tonight? I think that we need to start thinking about alternate programs. So, go home, and you'll get the verdict tonight after the meeting."
"Thank you, sir," Izzy said quietly. She even meant it.
