A/N: I'm not sure if I got right where Bobby is from in the movies. So don't flame me for it please. If someone wants to tell me, I'll be happy to correct myself.
Thank everyone for the reviews. I really loved them.
The next day, it wasn't Ms. Munroe who picked me up. Instead it was a young man, not much older than me.
"Bell Deveraux?" He'd asked when he approached me in the Inn's lobby.
I nodded, wondering who he was.
"Hi. I'm Bobby Drake. The Professor sent me to give you a ride." He held out his hand, friendly smile giving his face a boyish charm.
I accepted the handshake. "Yea. Hi. Nice to meet you." It didn't even cross my mind that he was a mutant until after my hand had let go of his.
"Ready to go?" He asked politely.
I gave him a nod and followed him out. The car ride seemed to take twice as long as it had yesterday, thanks to Bobby's try at small talk. It started out innocent enough.
"I take it your not from around here, huh?" He glanced at me from the driver's seat.
"No. I'm from Georgia." I said.
"I thought you were from some where down there. Your accent gave you away." He said with an easy friendliness.
I shrugged. "Are you from around here originally?" I asked to keep up the small talk, awkward silences are just too uncomfortable. Plus it would help keep my mind away from the fact that he was a mutant.
"Port Washington, Long Island."
"Oh." I tried to think of something else to say, but he beat me to it.
"So what can you do?" He changed lanes, then took a left turn.
I frowned, confused. "Do?"
"Yea. What's your gift?"
Oh. I tried to think of how to respond. Seconds ticked pasted before I just gave up trying to find an elegant way of putting it. "I'm not a mutant." I said staring straight ahead.
"Really?" He sounded surprised.
"Really." I confirmed. My stomach, which had just had butterflies all morning, got worse.
"Then why are you checking out Xavier's school, I mean you are wanting to attend right?" I was amazed to find that his voice wasn't the least bit hostile, like I had expected. He just sounded surprised and curious.
"No. I already graduated. I'm just looking for my brother. Professor Xavier said he would help me." I explained my anxiety lessening.
"Oh. Is your brother a mutant?"
"Yes."
"What's he do?"
Really, what was with the questions here? "I don't know really. He didn't tell me before he left."
"Oh." There was that uncomfortable silence that I had been hoping to avoid, and it just stretched on and on. We didn't speak again until we where pulling up to the school.
"Thanks for the ride." I said as Bobby turned the car off.
"No problem." He turned to me with a genuine expression of friendliness. "Follow me and I'll take you to the Professor's office."
He left me with a goodbye and a good luck for finding my brother outside of the Professors door. I raised my fist to knock, but the door opened on its own accord. "Come in, Bell."
I walked in and got the news that the Professor had had no luck finding my brother. Yet. He promised me he'd keep looking though. This was the best I could hope for.
It went on like this for about a week, and I realized that if I wanted to keep sleeping in a bed at night then I'd have to find a job to replenish my quickly dwindling savings.
I got lucky and landed one at the local library only after a couple of days of looking. It was easy enough, since I wasn't a librarian, just one of their helpers. I mostly restocked books all day. I've never been much of a reader myself, but the library was quiet and peaceful and it kept me from sleeping on the streets. As the weeks passed I really started enjoying it.
I had even begun to feel comfortable around the mutants' at Xavier's. To the point that I wasn't shrinking away from Dr. McCoy every time I saw him, and when he smiled I didn't feel like running for the door. Big improvements in my opinion.
Still there hadn't been much luck finding Otto, and it was worrying me. There were nights I couldn't sleep because of it. I didn't know if he was ok, or even if he was still alive. The not knowing was driving me insane. The Professor was picking up on my stressing over it, and kept reassuring me that everything would be fine. Not to give up hope. That he would keep looking.
Still as much as I appreciated his help, and as much as I wanted to believe him that Otto was most likely okay, the news wasn't making it easy. The media was broadcasting rumors that the cure from last year wasn't working, but officials were denying it. There had already been tension over the cure's existence and what had happen at Alcatraz last year but now that the cure had stopped working things hadn't gotten any better. People were rioting. It seemed things weren't going to be better time soon either.
And of coarse I couldn't just turn off the T.V. and not watch the news. I seemed to be addicted to it. I watched it first thing in the morning and before I went to sleep every night. It was my way of monitoring the world that my brother was in. There didn't seem like anything else I could do.
.
