I'm such a fucking idiot. I just basically insulted their entire kind.

Wait, no. I am their kind.

Or... I am now.

Or...was I the whole time?

Why me in the first place?

Nothing but millions of unanswered questions ran though my head as I plowed my way throught the sea of students that had just emerged from their various lessons. All mutants. The majority of them looked...well, normal. One blonde boy had a (rather decent, now that I think about it) set of huge white wings, and one of our teachers wore red sunglasses. None of the kids had any visible signs that there was anything different about them. Neither did I, but I knew I was a bit more than different.

I saw a washroom sign out of the corner of my eye and made a beeline for the door, looking at nothing but the now tiled floor in front of me, turning on the tap and splashing the freezing water onto my overheated face. I could feel my eyeliner begin to attach itself to the droplets as they ran down my face, and looking into the mirror merely reassured me that it was. My already dark eyes were now smudged with black with the occasional vertical line falling down my cheek to my chin.

I let out an audible sigh, and continued to stare at the pathetic girl in front of me.

How did I get here?

Just last week I was sitting in my backyard with the crew. Well, what was left of us. Since we were kids, 3 of us had 'changed'. now there were 4 of us left. Me, Eric, Andrew, and Beth. There hadn't been anyone to outcast in a good few years, we naturally we assumed we were all fine. The ones that we wrote off...God knows what they did with themselves. We didn't care. I thought about them from time to time, but never dared bring it up with the rest of them. Especially the guys. They've beaten up kids before just for being friends with the 'muties', as they were nicknamed. Wasn't right, they said. Needed to stick together or we'll lose control of it all. I learned to tune it out most of the time, I just accepted the fact that they didn't like the mutants. Part of me was always afraid this would happen - one day waking up to find out I was a mutant - just because of what my friends would do. My family wasn't very tolerant of the whole thing, either. Which is why that morning, that...fucking horrifying morning...when I slipped in the shower, grabbing for the curtain for support...my hand and arm suddenly absorbed the pattern and texture of the fabric clutched in my fingers, almost up to my elbow. I'm still not sure if it was the shock of what had just happened, or the grip I had on the curtain, that kept me from falling. But either way, only one thing went through my head.

I had to get out of there. Quickly.

I thanked myself when I remembered I had a pile of clothes next to my bed from doing the laundry. I grabbed most of it, and shoved it into my backpack along with my standard 'going out' things - makeup, toothbrush, stuff like that. I stopped, and looked at a photo on my nightstand of my little sister and I. She was only six, and had no idea really of anything that was going on with the mutants, the cure, the fact that my friends and I went out and threw bottles and a kid if they had a tail...I shuddered at the thought, grabbed the picture and threw it into my bag. I took a look around my room as if it was the last time I'd ever see it - at the time, I thought it was - and closed the door behind me. Luckily I was home alone at the time, it made this alot easier. I simply grabbed my wallet and walked out the door to the nearest bus stop, fighting back what I knew would be a shitstorm of tears and anger...

"What the fuck...?"

A voice behind me caused me to break my dazed stare and focus on the addition to my mess of a reflection. I was nothing short of shocked to see John, that pleasant boy from before, staring at me with something between annoyance...and concern? Huh?

"This is the guy's bathroom." He said plainly

Whatever dignity I had left - gone. I looked around me. Sure enough, urinals.

You're kidding me.

I looked back to John, who hadn't moved from the doorway. Was he expecting me to say sorry or something?

"Yeah I wasn't paying attention." Smooth. I must look like a fucking headcase right now. In the guys bathroom, staring at myself, makeup smeared all over my face...what a winner. I quickly attempted to wipe my face with my shirt sleeve, and walked toward the door. I was almost there, when John put his arm out and stopped me. Being in the state I was, I didn't make an effort to fight it. I couldn't look at him, though. I felt awful. I think. I wasn't sure what I felt.

"Don't be afraid of your gift."

And that would be it right there. I caught my breath and blinked hard.

He put his arm down, allowing me to pass. For a second, I turned my head to face him, forgetting I looked like complete hell, and looked up to meet his eyes. They weren't narrow or cold, like they were when I last saw him. He looked, for some reason, like he knew what I was feeling when he saw me staring into the mirror.

I wanted to say something - anything - but my mind was blank. I kept his gaze for a moment longer before I started back out the door and up to my room.

I had alot of thinking to do.

A/N: so there's that. ;) please review, I'm not sure which p.o.v. works best. So any advice would be greatly appreciated!