Eight o'clock dawned two hours earlier than usual on Monday morning. The alarm started to ring and, uninterrupted, rang and rang until its steady stream of notes began marching, headache-style, into Alex's ears. They formed ranks on his brain and marched in place.
When he stayed in bed anyway, the alarm clock drill sergeant douchenozzle commanded them into double time and their shiny boots smashed twice as hard onto his brain.
Between the growing headache and his mind's use of extended metaphor, he knew it was past time to wake up. He stumbled out of bed, staggered across the room, and slapped at the alarm clock, missing twice before finally silencing the monster. He kept his eyes closed as he gave his alarm clock the finger for waking him up at six o'clock, which eight o'clock becomes on a Monday.
Something had clattered to the floor. It bothered him. Alex wasn't particularly tidy, as the dirty clothes corner could attest, but some things mattered. He would figure out what had dropped, pick it up, and go back to bed. He couldn't handle going anywhere today, not this early.
Vaguely, he registered that Sean needed a ride. Like Sean would be out of bed before noon without someone kicking him in the ass!
Alex focused his bleary eyes enough to locate the dropped object.
"Aw, man…"
It was a photo, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinning like the moron that he was with an infant—nearly half his size—on his lap.
Although they were brothers, Alex and Scott had not grown up together. Their parents died in a plane crash when they were both young, leaving Alex to be adopted and Scott to grow up in an orphanage. Scott didn't talk about the orphanage, but Alex knew it was run by a man who treated kids like lab rats, leaving his now-younger brother with nightmares, scars, and significantly delayed aging.
That was how Scott, born nearly three years before Alex, had the body of a fifteen-year-old while his 'little' brother was (supposedly) grown up. Hank theorized that had Scott not been subjected to these experiments, it would have been Alex.
Ever since then, Alex felt a certain obligation to Scott. Of course the brat was such a hoity-toity, smarmy little goody-two-shoes, the only thing he wanted from Alex was that he live a good life for himself.
Scott was glad Alex was back in school.
Scott was glad Alex had a good friend like Sean.
Scott was glad Alex wanted to do something with his life.
Alex spent two minutes mumbling curses at his brother as he shuffled through the necessaries of the morning, pausing in his murmured tirade only after jabbing himself with his toothbrush. That was Scott's fault, too. Otherwise Alex would be in bed right now, not making his way back to his bedroom, not sniffing his jeans to determine whether they were too dirty to wear, not giving up on another task when he failed to locate a comb.
He found a burst of energy as he passed Sean's room, at least enough energy to bang on the door and call, "You better be up, you lazy crapsack!"
Sean must have been awake, because he retorted, "Yeah, and I'm almost finished banging your mom!"
Alex told himself that was about his adoptive mother. He didn't care, in fact walked off almost laughing at Sean's stupid remark, but Alex's other mom was also Scott's mom. Since his brother suffered from critical humor failure, remarks about his mother were a touch taboo.
Ororo and the humorless boy in question sat at the table when Alex wandered into the kitchen. They had time to sit and eat thanks to a lack of commute.
Doug had also been with them, but he gave Alex a look of fury and walked out of the room.
Unable to resist, Alex reached out and tousled Scott's hair. "Morning, Scotty."
He was like a knock-kneed, zit-faced adult sometimes. Today was no exception, as evidenced by the newspaper in front of him.
Scott ducked away. He hated when Alex did that. Long enough to deposit his spoon back in the bowl of cereal and he tried to object, "Don't call me—" but it was too late, judging from the shit-eating grin on Ororo's face. "Goddammit."
"Okay," Alex agreed, "I won't call you 'Goddammit'. That better not be sweat I got all over my hand."
"Who asked you to stick your hand in my hair?" Scott retorted. "And no. It's water. There's this thing called a shower."
There was coffee in the deceptively simple-looking mug-like pot-thing Hank had spent the past year perfecting. Credit where due, it made amazing coffee, but the one time Alex tried using it Hank went purple. Today it had coffee already. Alex touched his knuckles to the side of the pot.
Warm coffee! The use of a mug was a pointless formality. It would have been more direct to tip the pot over his open mouth.
Ororo swiped the paper. "Thanks, Scotty."
Scott sighed. "Why am I everyone's bitch?" he lamented, then, much to Alex's amusement, glanced around to make sure Charles wasn't there and hadn't heard him say 'bitch'. He could act grown-up all he wanted, but he was still a little boy who wanted to avoid trouble and liked the snap-crackle-pop noises his cereal made.
"Because you let it happen, dude." Alex drained his mug and left it in the sink. "Walk to the car with me."
Scott didn't answer.
"No, I mean it. C'mon, Goddammit."
Scott muttered something that would earn him an extra week washing dishes when Ororo repeated it, but he followed Alex. Alex asked questions that might have seemed casual but for the tension in his voice. How was the school? Were the new kids okay? Had anything, uh, out of the ordinary happened?
When they reached the garage—which, like the house, was vast outside of its definition—Scott grabbed Alex's arm to stop him. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Stay away from Laurie."
"She's in my class. I can't ignore her."
"Then be polite, but keep away from her. Look, trust me, okay? 'Cause I'm your big brother and I know more than you."
"You're not my—"
"This time I am." Alex hadn't meant to raise his voice.
Scott nodded. "Okay," he replied, sounding doubtful, but Alex knew Scott was as good as his word. "No, of course—I'm sorry. Um, w… will you tell me why?"
He asked it of the ground, but Alex was working on an answer, anyway. He stopped when Sean joined them. "Finally," Alex sighed, "I hope you used protection."
Remembering that the last thing he said was a crude joke about Alex's mom, Sean laughed.
Alex made a fist and tapped Scott on the shoulder. He knew Scott would've hugged him—he'd done it twice and Alex let him, but come on. Alex was a guy. So he settled for a slow-motion punch to the shoulder. "Take care, twerp."
"Good luck, jerk."
"A woman?"
"No."
"Alive?"
"No."
"Dead?"
Alex gave Sean a look that spoke volumes regarding the marvel that someone with his intellect managed to put his shorts on the right way each morning.
"Okay, dead," Sean ceded, hands up in surrender.
They sat in two uncomfortable chairs in a row of uncomfortable chairs, Sean slouched until he was half-lying. The walls were drab, but the corkboard flyers had exclamation marks and a few bright posters splashed color around. One showed a kitten clinging to a piece of rope.
Alex nudged Sean. "Check out the cat."
"I don't really 'check out' cats."
Oh, I think we both know what you check out. Alex kept the thought to himself. Instead he said, "Bet its claws could shred the rope."
"Huh."
"You know how sharp Artie's claws are?"
"No, I don't tease the cat." After a moment's silence, Sean began to laugh. "Your brother has a pussy."
Alex cracked up.
"Alexander Summers?"
Alex stood, swung his backpack onto his shoulder, and followed a small, balding man with wire-rimmed glasses—he paused a moment, though, to flip Sean the bird. Then he strode down the hall. Earlier in the week, he hauled Sean to the community college so they could both take assessment exams. Now, in a creaky chair that might once have been cushioned, Alex faced an academic advisor.
He had faced a high school principal enough times across a similar desk with a scratched blotter and tacky-looking surface. The urge to talk back rushed up his throat like bile.
"Okay, Alexander. I'm Colin Green, I'm an academic advisor and I have your test scores here. Before we go over these, have you thought about what you'd like to study?"
"Not really," Alex admitted. "I was never a great student, so I'm kind of hoping to get things back on track."
"What brought you back?"
Alex instinctively opened his mouth to be rude and promptly snapped it shut again. He swallowed, giving himself time to think, then, "I've had some, uh, difficulties holding down a job, but I have my GED now and education could help me redirect things, a bit."
He wasn't one for admitting to problems, so the explanation emerged awkward and stilted. Certain things had to be chopped out. I lost three jobs in a month because I was so messed up after accidentally killing my best friend with my mutant superpower. Yeah, that might not sound great.
"That and my kid brother." It was Hank who let slip that the community college had been Scott's idea. Alex supposed he should have known, but, "He came out here on a ten-speed." After I nearly broke his ribs.
"That kind of support is always a powerful motivator, having your loved ones behind you."
"Whoa, let's not go nuts!" Alex replied before he could think better of it. Okay, Scott was his brother, and he liked the dork well enough, but 'loved ones'? Well, he supposed his foster-sister Haley would be happy, too; he loved her. He'd tell her once he had actually done something. "You have my test scores, right?"
"Yes. You've placed into English 101 and Math 119-A, which…" and Colin Green was off, telling Alex what his test scores indicated.
Overall, Alex had to admit that the man helped him. He discussed some of the career pathways the school offered and explained different areas of study that hadn't mattered to Alex before. When Alex still felt more confused than anything else, Colin Green helped him sign up for a variety of classes, 'to see which one grabs you'.
The whole thing had a foreignness to it. Was this normal in some circles, sitting there and talking about all these bright, broad prospects like they applied to you? Alex couldn't remember anyone treating him this way before, acting like he could achieve something if he applied himself.
After the meeting, he stopped by the corner store.
Sean found him squinting at the bright sunlight. "Hey, man."
"Hey."
Alex offered him a beer and Sean joined him, leaning against the car.
"So how did yours go?"
"Okay," Alex replied. "Yours?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. They ask you why you were enrolling?"
"Nope. They asked you that?"
Alex hefted the can in his hand, feeling that it was just less than half full. The sun still gleamed too brightly. It had burned off that strange, hopeful energy that built up in the academic advising office.
"Alex?"
He drained the rest of his drink in one long gulp, crushed the can, and chucked it into the garbage bin. "Finish up, we gotta go."
"I'm not driving," Sean observed.
"You're not drinking that in the car."
Alex was a little rebellious and a little wild, but he hadn't been lying to the advisor. He wanted this to work because he wanted a better life than the one he had. That meant no stupid risks like coming home with Charles's car smelling like beer. He needed wheels—which meant being responsible when he borrowed them.
Sean threw away a half-full can and claimed shotgun. Of course, with only two of them in the car, he had a right to it.
"Oh, and Sean?"
"Yeah?"
Alex punched his shoulder.
"Ow! What the hell!"
"Scott's not a pussy," he said, looking straight ahead.
He pulled out of the parking lot and onto a mostly-empty road. A stop sign at the corner brought them to a halt, giving a kid no more than thirteen the chance to race his skateboard across the intersection.
"He is, though."
Skateboard Boy was gone. Alex drove forward. Not for the first time, he wished there were highway between the community college and home, some place the speedometer could hit forty.
"Yeah, I know."
