Hey all. So here it is, chapter 10. And I am BEYOND happy, to say that in a sudden burst of the absence of writer's block, I have in the past few days written several chapters all of them nearly a whole three pages long, yay! Death to the too short chapters! Also, things are FINALLY starting to pick up, and Logan is FINALLY actually going to be in it. Much of the next few chapters are even from his point of view. Aren't you happy? I AM! Ok, so, enough of that. HUGE thanks to storyofgreen, and endiahna for reviewing. Enjoy and please review!
The next morning, Warren woke up dreading Mr. Logan's class, something he'd never thought would be possible.
As he stood in front of his mirror inspecting his heavily bruised chest, he decided it would be a miracle if he got through the day without fainting. However, he had no choice but to drag himself down to breakfast, as too many questions would be asked by the teachers if he was absent too much. And by 'teachers' he of course meant Storm, who was obsessively anal about her star pupils missing class.
And so, he forced himself to wolf down some toast before starting toward the gym, making it with only seconds until the bell.
"Settle down and take a seat!" Mr. Logan had to all but yell over the chattering teenage boys.
Warren almost fell over with relief when he realized that metal folding chairs had been set up in front of a roll away blackboard; they would be taking notes today.
The rest of the day passed in a painful blur, ending when Warren fell exhaustedly into bed that evening without even bothering to eat dinner.
8
To Warren's immense relief his luck held, and they took notes in gym for the rest of the week. They learned all about muscles, bones, heart rates, good exercise plans, diet, etc., and didn't do any strenuous activity what so ever.
Also, Professor Scott seemed to back off, just a little. He gave Warren several days to rest, and even when he did begin to press the boy again, he was a little gentler.
However, that was where Warren's luck ran out.
Monday morning came, and Warren, still aching all over, although he didn't have to take quite so many painkillers anymore, once more, dragged himself out of bed and down to the gym.
"Alright, kids," Mr. Logan called, silencing the class as he strolled in, a basketball under each arm, "Now that the book work's finally out of the way, we start on the real games. Today we're playing basketball, no powers." A few of the boys grumbled at this, but a glare from Logan silenced them. "Now, I'm going to divide you up into teams. You, shirts," Logan pointed to Bobby, "You, skins," and so on down the line.
Warren's heart sank to his toes and kept on going right through the floor; Mr. Logan had just put him on the skins team.
"Mr. Logan, I have to go to the restroom," he called as the group broke, those on the skins team started striping off their shirts and lining up to start.
"Hurry back!" Logan called after his retreating back before tossing a ball in the air and starting the game.
8
In the large, gym locker room Warren stood, shirtless and staring hopelessly at his reflection in the large mirror. Although the bruises were beginning to fade and were far less frightening to look at now, the majority of his chest was still covered in a rainbow of yellows, purples, and greens.
There was no way he could go out there.
"Worthington? What are you doing in there?" Shit, that was Mr. Logan's voice. But before Warren had time to do more than jump in surprise he had opened the door and was standing staring at Warren's bare chest.
Reflexively Warren wrapped his arms around his chest in a futile attempt to hide the ugly marks.
"What happened here?" Mr. Logan asked, slowly approaching Warren, his tone carefully relaxed, though the faint crease between his eyebrows belied him.
"I-I fell," Warren lied quickly, fighting the urge to take a step back from the older mutant.
"You got that beat up… from a fall?" Mr. Logan raised a dubious eyebrow.
"Out of a tree," Warren added, "A-a few branches tried to catch me… it didn't work very well." He'd never been much of a liar before, but he couldn't think of a better time to discover a talent for it.
"You fell out of a tree?" Warren nodded. "We should have Hank take a look at it," Logan was already turning toward the door.
"No!" Warren exclaimed quickly. Logan turned back with a raised eyebrow. "I-its really not that bad," Warren was, once again, lying, "It looks a lot worse than it is."
Logan studied him for several long minutes, his expression hard to read. Warren fidgeted uncomfortably, his heart pounding in panic.
At last Logan turned away, back towards the door. "Then get your shirt back on and get out there. If it ain't bad enough for Hank to look at it, it ain't too bad for you to play," he growled heading toward the door.
"Y-yes, Sir," Warren stuttered.
"And its not Sir," Logan added without breaking stride, "Its just Logan." And with that he was gone.
"Yes, Logan," Warren whispered, savoring the name as he leaned weakly back against the wall for a moment in relief, before doing as he was told.