With thanks to Ellie, SweeterJ, Lychee Loving, Voodoo, Booster, and Guest for reviewing! The schooling situation was asked about; the kids have classes at the mansion. Because it's a new school for a specific type of student, it's in some ways homeschoolish.

The book quoted in this chapter is Dante's Inferno.


Scott shuffled and tapped the deck on the table, carefully arranging it into a neat pile. Ororo, watching this, resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Some American traits and behaviors baffled her. She still struggled with bed-making and clothing, well! But the eye roll she understood and had swiftly adopted.

As Scott dealt two piles of cards, Ororo asked, "Why do you care so much what he thinks of you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everything you do, the way you act—you just want to please someone. Always. Mostly Charles."

He once more neatened the piles before handing one to Ororo. "You get the rules?"

"No," she admitted. Cards were far from distinctly American, but just like chess, Ororo had mostly seen others play. Someone tried to teach her poker once, but she promptly deemed it boring—because it was.

"Take five cards—no, from your pile. You can have five cards in your hand at a time."

"I could hold more," she assured him, going for another.

"You can only have five."

"That's stupid, I can hold at least twice that!" Actually she could no such thing, but she supposed she could manage seven.

"But you can only have five."

"Says who?"

"It's the rules."

The cards lay between them in several tidy piles on a surprisingly sturdy coffee table. It was surprisingly sturdy in that both teenagers sat cross-legged on top of it and the table supported them. The wide window provided them a decent view of the front of the house, so that they would see the new students arriving.

Scott looked around at the sheet-draped shapes around them. Not for the first time, he wondered, "Are you sure we're allowed in here?"

She gave a reluctant look as two of the cards in her hand returned to the deck. "This is what I mean about you," she pointed out.

"So when I say 'go', each of us turns over one card in the middle. Then try to get rid of the cards in your hand by picking one above or below the card in the middle. If this is a four," he said, tapping one of the cards, "you could play a three or a five. Does that make sense?"

She nodded. Three four five, simple enough.

"Ready?"

Another nod.

"Okay, go."

He flipped one of the cards in the center. A moment later, Ororo caught on and flipped the other one—the four of diamonds. "Hey, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess," Scott replied. He was already laying cards from his hand onto the piles in the center.

"Hey!" she objected, and hurried to catch up. One higher or lower. That was a seven, so she dropped an eight on top of it; the other card was a two and Ororo had a three. Only, now she had no matches left. She waited as Scott played out his hand before remembering the draw pile.

He won the first round.

"Again."

By the third round, Ororo had herself established solidly as the better player.

"I thought you liked this game."

"I do like it."

"Then why do I keep brushing the floor with you?"

"Mopping," Scott corrected. "You keep mopping the floor with me. Hey, look."

Outside, a car pulled up the driveway, bringing a new student to the school. Ororo scrambled nearer to watch. The new kid looked like a girl, blond hair and a pink sweater. From this angle she looked small, though that was uncertain.

Ororo watched Ruth speak with an adult—parent?—before realizing she was alone. "Scott, c'mon!"

He finished sliding the cards into their box and joined her at the window. "Did you see him?"

"Who says it's a him?"

Scott shrugged.

She started for the door.

"Hang on. We should let him settle in."

Ororo rolled her eyes. "Don't you have a book to read?" she asked. "And it's a girl."

No, she would not be waiting for the new student to settle in. She only wanted to meet them, anyway. She headed downstairs. Footsteps told her Scott followed, so she sped up. He did, too. By the time they reached the entryway they were outright running.

Ororo stopped short when she saw the little knot of people: the new girl and her mom, Ruth and Charles. Scott's sneakers squealed against the floor as he put the brakes on. Not fast enough: he crashed into Ororo. They collapsed into a heap of knees and elbows.

By the time the two managed to pick themselves up, all eyes were on them. Scott turned nearly as red as his glasses, but Ororo kept her chin up and stared right back.

"And these are two of our students," Charles said, amused, "Ororo Munroe and Scott Summers."

Scott extended his hand. The mother shook it, but the girl didn't acknowledge him. She was petite, after all. Her hair curled around her face and that was about all Ororo could see, except a glare of eyes like she would expect to see on an angry cat.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Likewise, I'm sure," the woman said, though her tone was tight, uncomfortable. "Laurie," she prompted.

The new student folded her arms over her chest. "I'm Laurie."

The announcement invited no further discussion.


"Wow! This place is gargantuan! I mean the sheer magnitude!"

Doug Ramsey closed his mouth long enough to finish stepping out of the car. He was big for his age, with a youthful face and wide brown eyes. He had called earlier to say that he would be late arriving at the school because his mom's car broke down. Ruth offered to pick him up and the grateful enthusiasm he expressed surprised her.

By now she understood that enthusiasm was the boy's default. If Scott was their beaten pup, Doug would be the two-year-old Rottweiler who barked and wagged his tail in unfettered glee at every butterfly and mailman to pass by.

He lit up when he saw Charles, too, and maintained that easily impressed attitude throughout a tour of the school. "How do you plan to help me with my ability?" Doug wondered. Much as he liked the school, his ability interested him more.

"I think that can wait until tomorrow," Charles assured him.

The responding nod told him this was not the answer Doug hoped to hear.

"Unless you'd rather begin now."

Because he did, and because he understood that Charles was just as happy with it, they began with two books, a pen, and a pad of paper. Charles opened the first book. "I'd like you to copy what you read here," he said.

Doug scratched the text onto the notepad. He did not understand the point of this exercise. His ability allowed him to understand any language he encountered. This was simple for him. Nevertheless, trusting the man, he went along with it.

He had copied out three sentences before Charles stopped him, requested the first sheet of paper, and opened the second book. "Now, the same thing again, using this text."

Once more, Doug copied words from the page.

Charles laid both pages side by side. "Read this aloud, if you would."

"Okay, uh, 'I am the way into the city of woe, I am the way into eternal pain, I am the way to go among the lost. Justice cause my high architect to move, divine omnipotence created me, the highest wisdom, and the primal love.'"

"Was it written in English originally?"

The question threw Doug. For the first time since arriving, he found himself at a loss for words. He recovered himself enough to admit, "I'm not sure."

"Is this written in English?"

"I… huh," Doug said. Had he written in English? He tried to remember.

"Look at the book again," Charles suggested. "Try to really look at what's in front of you."

Doug did. The book looked basically as he remembered it, lines of poetry down the center of the page. He scanned the words and understood them.

"Look, Douglas. Try to think of it as a picture rather than words."

He focused on a single word. Much as he tried to think of it as a picture, it was still a picture of a word and that word was 'wings'. His forehead wrinkled in concentration as Doug found, much to his frustration, that the word would not untangle itself. It was not a picture, anyway. It was a means of understanding.

Finally, he shook his head.

"Well, that's all right. It's in Italian," Charles told him, "which is something I hope to teach you how to recognize, so that you not only read the page in front of you, but understand it, also."

"Oh," Doug replied. "Fascinating!"

"And perhaps enough for one afternoon?"

He nodded. "Yes, safe to say."

"In which case, I believe some of your classmates are eager to make your acquaintance."