Scott and I carried Logan to the emergency room-like place within the basement of the mansion while Ororo took Rogue (Marie) to the professor. He was obviously going to talk to her, but not the same talk he'd had with me. Jean told me to go find the professor, but wait outside his door; he had more information for me about my results.

Walking through the silent halls, I was glad for my unusual memory skills. I remembered every turn it took to get to the elevator, and it rode me up to the main floor of the mansion. When I was inside, I heard the sleeping minds of the children one floor up. I looked around, remembering Xavier's office was to the right. I went to the doors, stopped, listened, and leaned against the wall. He was still talking to Marie.

"So you want me ta stay here?" Marie was saying. "Live here... like this place was my home?"

"Yes," Xavier answered. "We'll offer you shelter, food, clothes, and an education."

Silence.

"An' you won't tell my parents where I am?"

"Not if you don't want to contact them."

"I don't," Marie said sternly.

"I understand," Xavier said sympathetically. "Well, I'll have Ororo lead you back to your room. You'll be rooming with a few other girls. She'll introduce you, and take you to buy some clothes tomorrow morning."

"All right," Marie said, almost skeptically. I heard her rise from a chair, and walk towards the door, Ororo's footsteps before hers.

I stood in my place as the door opened, and they both walked out.

"Marie," I said, grabbing the girl's attention; she turned to face me. "Don't worry, kid. Yer in good hands, here."

She smiled lightly, then turned back to Ororo and followed her, this time with more confidence in her step. I turned about and went into Xavier's office, sitting down in the chair across from him; he was behind his desk.

"So... about that break-in earlier..."

"It was Mystic, Magneto's right-hand woman," he told me. "She obviously did not want us to see what was recorded by Jean, and she would have come after you had one of our students not noticed something."

"Who?"

"A young boy by the name of Dexter," Xavier said, becoming almost proud. "He's a bright young telepath you happened to look into her mind, on accident, of course, while she was walking by in the form of Jean. He alerted me to Mystic's presence, and I told Ororo to get you away from the mansion."

"Were ya able to see what my results were?" I asked, feeling hopeful.

"Jean was," he replied. He grew very grave. "She said she didn't like what she saw."

I stopped myself, thinking it over. Did I really want to know my fate? "Well, what did tha tests say?"

He gave a long, heavy sigh. "The rate at which you're gaining new powers is remarkable, first off," he told me. "Something within your mind that is irreparable, for where the mutant factor is in the brain is so tiny that surgery would kill you." He took another long breath. "This factor within your mind has grown confused, for lack of a better word. It does not know you've already hit puberty and received your powers, therefore it keeps going, giving you more and more with each passing year."

"So, it thinks I don't have any powers, so it's givin' me more ta see if those'll work?" I asked, trying to understand what was going on.

"More or less, yes," Xavier said.

"So, uh... what'll tha outcome be because a this?"

He stopped, obviously wishing I hadn't asked this question. "There are many outcomes," he finally said. "One is that you will go insane from all of these new powers, because your mind will not have the capacity to deal with them. Another is that your brain will become over-powered with the amount of mutant abilities you will possess, and you will lose all or most of them in your brain's attempt to gain relief. In that case, if you do lose all of your powers, the metal- which was overlooked at the time- that runs through your bones will kill you, for your healing factor will no longer be there to help you."

I stared at him for a long minute, thinking. "Thanks fer givin' it to me straight, professor," I said, keeping my voice steady. I swallowed down my fears. "Are there any immediate repercussions?"

"Not that Jean could see," he answered. "It could take anywhere from a few years to a few decades; we're just not sure."

I nodded, looking to the floor. I heard him roll over to me and I felt the pressure of his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca," he said quietly. "I know you've already been through much in your few years, but it looks as though you'll have more to deal with in the long run of things."

"S'all right," I informed him, looking up. "I'll deal." I gave him a weak smile, and he managed to return it. "Well, professor, if you'll excuse me... I got a class tomorrow that I gotta prepare for."

Xavier nodded. "I know you're strong, Rebecca," he said, patting my shoulder. "But remember, if you need to talk about something, I'm here."

"Ya sound like my dad, professor," I answered, a hint of annoyance in my voice. He let me go without another word, and I went back up to my room. I didn't sleep that night, but it felt good to have a blank wall to stare at.

When the sun was rising, I got ready for my class. Bypassing breakfast, I went straight to the room when Xavier had said I was to hold class in. I went into the small room, looking around; there were plenty of windows, drawn with thick curtains, the same color of deep red that ran throughout the entire mansion. Many desks sat in the room facing a large wooden teacher's desk; my desk. A huge red chair sat behind it, and a rolling dry-erase board beside the desk and chair. I walked over to it, running my hand along my desk's frame. This was all sort of new to me, and I wasn't sure how to take it all in.

I heard students beginning to come in, and I straightened my black t-shirt, The Beatles pasted in blue on the front. I leaned against my desk casually, waiting for the first to arrive. I remember these would be the older students first, the ones from about fifteen to seventeen in age. I thanked Xavier for doing that for me.

The first one entered, and to my surprise, Bobby's smile welcomed me. Next came John, then Kitty, Jubilee, Jamie, and coming in after them, and a number of students whose faces I recognized but couldn't place to names, was Marie, Rogue, the girl we'd just picked up the night before. I bet Xavier had heard of my effect on her, and placed her in this class for me to help her further. When the students had all settled, I began class by shutting the door with a loud bang; all those who'd been talking turned to look at me with questioning gazes. I smiled.

"Welcome to yer first creative writing class," I said. "My name's Rebecca. Don't worry about the 'Ms.' thing with me. I'm not much older than y'all, actually."

All seemed shocked by this, except those few who knew me. Rogue was very quiet, looking down at her notebook she had brought with her.

"I'm nearly twenty," I continued, going back up to the desk. "An' yes, I'm new here, as I sense many of ya are thinkin'. In case yer wonderin', I'm a telepath, along with a few other things."

I gave the few friends of mine, who sat in the front row, a warning look, daring them to say something to the other students. They took the hint.

"Now," I said, clasping my hands together in a loud clap. "What is creative writing? Well, it's where you write... creatively." I got a good laugh out of that one. "Seriously, creative writing is basically getting your thoughts out of paper. That's all I'm expectin' of ya. You'll all be given prompts, or sometimes free-writes, where ya write about whatever ya want, and I'll give ya a certain amount a time in which ta write on that topic. Once yer finished, I'll ask those few brave souls ta read what they're workin' on. Tha next time we meet, we'll get inta small groups, an' begin tha editing process." I looked around. "Any questions?"

John raised his hand, stretching it as far as it would go. Many students laughed.

"Yes, John?" I asked.

He put his hand down, using it to support him while he leaned on it. "Aren't you going to have a little get-together time with us?" he asked. "You know, where we all introduce ourselves to one another."

I stared at him. His question was innocent, but his thoughts weren't. "See me after class, Pyro," I said neutrally. He sat back in his seat as the other kids around him snickered. Bobby shot him a look.

At that point, I went around the room and asked each student their name, why they took this class, and what their power(s) were. I learned all of them had only one power. I felt very out of place, like Xavier said I was. Then I began the class, giving them a prompt.

"If you were ta meet one author, dead author, by the way, who would it be?" I asked, walking around the room. "Would it be Frost? Or how about Poe? Perhaps Shakespeare suits your fancy... Anyone. Pick one author and/or poet, and write from their point of view, in the first person, please." I paused, looking at their faces; I saw many had begun setting to work. "I'll expect ya ta work for the rest of the class time; we'll begin readin' them next class, and then to editing!"

The kids worked for the rest of the class diligently, looking up with surprised glances when the bell rang. All got up, including John, but I called to him.

"Pyro, Pyro!" I said, waving to him. He stopped, turning to me. "Come 'ere."

He came reluctantly, a bit worried. I waited for the other kids to leave, nodding to Rogue and Bobby on their way out. My gaze shifted to John, who took a step back.

"Ya need ta learn ta keep yer thoughts under control, Pyro," I said to him, my voice deep with anger. "I'm a teacher at this school, an' I will not have ya thinkin' stuff like that, then try ta hide it as an innocent question. I don't work like that."

"You- you saw what I was thinking?" he asked, swallowing. He was nervous, now.

"More like I heard ya, kid, yer louder than an elephant through a china shop," I said. I paused, waiting for an answer; when I didn't receive one, I spoke again. "Ya know what happened ta me, don't cha, kid?"

"Not really..."

"So ya forgot that little talk I had with ya last week already, huh?"

His eyes widened. "No, ma'am," he said quickly. "I'm- I'm really sorry. Don't tell the professor, please. I'm already in enough trouble with Dr. Grey and Ms. Munroe."

"Why does that not surprise me?" I asked, shaking my head slowly. "All right, John, apology accepted. Now don't come back ta this class, or cross my path until ya get yer morals shaped up."

He nodded sharply, turning around and all but running out the door.