August 8, 1960
"You'll be fine," Heather said, "It's a good school. One of my co-worker's little sisters goes here."
Doug nodded and glanced up at her. It had been hard to start thinking of Dr. Hudson as Heather. However, he couldn't keep calling her Dr. Hudson now that she was his legal guardian. They'd finished up the paperwork in a rush and he'd been taken out of the hospital a week ago. Now school was starting.
Taking a deep breath Doug looked around him. The Institute was big, perhaps as big as the hospital. However, unlike the hospital it had been built for beauty, not for functionality. Hedge rows grew up around the school, flowers blossoming from them. The bricks were bright and the windows were polished.
The school's accessories were eye-catching as well, whispering promises of picture book-like perfection. There was a bike rack where multi-colored bicycles were stacked. Someone had drawn a hopscotch grid in chalk. He could make out swings in the back. It all spoke of a vibrant community teeming with other children.
He bit his lip. Doug began wondering if he'd made a mistake when he said he'd go there. Rahne had told him great things about the school, that much was true. For weeks he'd been plotting how he was going to spend his recesses, and what days to bring a sandwich on and what days to ask Heather for lunch money.
Doug had been looking forward to it until he realized how many other people there would be, people who would expect him to talk and interact with them. Slowly the plans he'd made had shriveled up as the children in his imagination had become all too real. He'd never had many friends even before his mutation had manifested. He'd never been social, always feeling some level of separation, and now he was woefully out of practice.
It all seemed like too much. He'd taken a leap of faith when he'd agreed to live with Heather. He'd had fun over the past few days; getting out of the hospital, buying clothes that didn't smell like disinfectant, and essentially filling the room Heather had prepared for him with odds and ends to make it feel like home.
He hadn't fully adjusted to being outside of the hospital. Everything seemed so noisy. In the hospital the walls were thick, but in Heather's apartment they were thinner. They lived on the outskirts of the city, but there was still noise from the street or people climbing the stairs of the apartment complex. Every time someone had come to talk to her about something he'd made sure to stay out of the way, never speaking more than a few words to them.
Going out had been fun. There had been grass and other, more familiar things like buildings and streets. Even then the crowds and noise had confused him though. Heather had made sure that he was shielded from the worst of the them, but his nervousness remained. He couldn't even spend ten minutes in a crowded store without feeling pressed in. Heather had assured him it would go away with time, but he wasn't so sure.
Either way he was going into a building where people would be pressing in from every side constantly. At the moment there was no one else in the schoolyard, but he knew that was only because they'd come late because he was new. Inside there would be scores of people around him all the time.
He swallowed and adjusted his backpack. Heather noticed and put a hand on his shoulder. She knelt down so that she was eye level with him.
"Hey, are you okay?" she asked.
Doug swallowed again and nodded.
"We don't have to do this," Heather said.
His eyes widened.
"We don't?" asked Doug.
"No," Heather said, "We can try this tomorrow or the day after if you want. I know it's a lot to take in and I don't want to rush you."
The suggestion made him pause. Doug turned the idea over in his head. He'd love to leave, to turn around and run back to the cozy little room he'd started to call his own. He'd burry his head under his pillow and block out even the thought of noise. Doug would forget all about the too-perfect building.
At the same time, he knew if he did that then he'd never have the courage to come back. Every day he'd stop in the schoolyard and Heather, being nice, would allow him to go home. Then he'd just burry his head again and again until she finally understood that it was hopeless and stop bringing him. He'd just stay inside, too afraid to go out. Doug was many things, but he wasn't a coward.
So he squared his shoulders and shook his head.
"It's okay," he said.
Heather smiled and got to her feet. She kept her hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him up the steps and into the administrative office. Someone came out of the main office to meet her and the two exchanged words. Doug could only glance up from time to time, not sure if he should be looking at her or not. His father had always said it was rude to stare, and he was too nervous to make eye contact.
The woman was staring though. He could feel it. Even when he looked up and caught her she didn't look away. Doug wondered if his reputation as the only child who'd survived the MRD's more intensive experiments had followed him to the school. He stiffened up, waiting for her to say something.
"Miss," Heather said, her voice snappish, "I'd like you to tell me where Doug's classroom is. Or is your brain as frozen as your eyes?"
The woman at the counter glared at Heather, but Heather didn't move. Doug blinked, realizing that Heather was out-glaring her. Eventually the woman looked away.
"Up the stairs and take a right. You'll want to go into the left hallway," the woman said, "And then it's the third door on the right."
"Thank you," Heather said.
She gestured to Doug and they walked down the hall. Doug looked up at her as they did, feeling a swell of relief at what she'd said to the woman in the office. No matter what happened he hated people staring at him like he might die at any second. He thought he'd already proven that that wasn't going to happen.
Heather stopped him before they went up the stairs. Doug swallowed and looked up at her. Her expression was soft and she sighed.
"I know it's going to be hard for you," she said, "Most of the adults know who you are and what you went through."
Doug took a deep breath.
"But the kids won't, so you shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing from them" Heather said, "But if anybody here makes you uncomfortable like that woman in the office, then you come to me and I'll kick their asses."
Despite himself Doug grinned. Heather tilted her head back.
"And I mean it too," she said, "So come on."
He felt a little braver as they walked up the stairs. He ran his hand along the railing, trying to imagine Rahne and her friend Wanda sliding down it. He'd never seen Wanda, so her face came out blurry. He could imagine Rahne very clearly though, pumping her fists in exultation. The thought that this place had been her playground before it had been her school comforted him.
The hallway they walked into was covered in construction paper and water colors. It smelt like glue and glitter, with just a hint of flowers. A phone rang further down, whispering to him and inviting him to have a conversation. He had to stop himself from finding it. If he did he knew he'd have a conversation where no one stared at him, but he remembered the silent agreement he'd made with himself when he walked through the doors.
They stopped at a door marked 'Ms. Coy Mahn's 5th Grade Class.' Heather stopped and looked down at Doug, gesturing to the door.
"This is your classroom," she said, "Now, she's going to be introducing you to the other kids, which is probably going to be a little scary."
Doug nodded. It sounded horrifying.
"But then you'll get to sit down and start learning," she said, "I know how much you like to do that. They'll have new books and everything. I heard Ms. Coy Mahn's really good with French, so you'll probably have some fun with that."
A knot of anxiety was forming in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't say anything.
"I'll come pick you up at three," Heather said, "I've cut down on my hospital hours, so it should be alright. Then you can tell me all about your day. Okay?"
Another nod would probably have her worrying about him. He struggled to find both his voice and a response.
"Okay," Doug said.
Heather smiled at him and knocked on the door. A woman with dark hair opened, smiling at Heather and holding out her hand.
"You must be Dr. Hudson," she said.
Heather shook her hand.
"Ms. Coy Mahn?" she asked.
"Oh please, call me Xi'an," Ms. Coy Mahn said.
She released Heather's hand and looked down at Doug.
"And I suppose that means that you're Doug?" she asked.
Doug nodded, his voice once again gone.
"Alright," Ms. Coy Mahn said.
She gestured towards the classroom.
"Come on," she said, "We've almost started. I'll introduce you to the class and show you your desk."
Doug looked over at Heather, who ruffled his hair.
"Have fun okay?" she said.
He somehow managed to nod. Doug followed Ms. Coy Mahn through the door. Just as he stepped over the threshold he looked back. Heather was still standing in the hallway, looking at him hopefully. He could see how excited she was for him, how much she wanted him to enjoy himself. She waved.
He waved back before the door was shut and he found himself at the front of a classroom filled with children. All of them had been talking while Ms. Coy Mahn was out, but they stopped when they came in. He felt their curious glances raking over him and he fought the overwhelming urge to run.
"Class, attention please," Ms. Coy Mahn said.
Doug bit the inside of his mouth.
"I'd like you to meet Doug Ramsay," she said, "He's new to the school."
Thirty pairs of eyes continued to stare at him. He shuffled his feet and gripped the straps of his backpack as tightly as possible.
"He's going to be in the higher reading group," Ms. Coy Mahn said, "So I'd like him to sit in the third row. Like I said, it's his first day here, so I hope you're all extra nice to him. This place can be a little overwhelming."
It seemed like the biggest understatement he'd ever heard. Ms. Coy Mahn looked down at him in expectation. He didn't know what to do, but it was obvious that he was supposed to do something. Feeling helpless he looked back at the classroom. They were all still staring at him. Doug felt his throat go dry and his hands began to shake.
This had been a mistake. He could still get out. If he pushed the door open now and ran down the halls then he might be able to catch up with Heather. She'd take him back, and he wouldn't just burry his head under a pillow. He'd hide under the bed and refuse to come out, would block out even the smallest thought of school.
Doug glanced at the door, his body tensed for flight. Everyone was still looking at him, waiting for him to do something, but it didn't matter anymore. Soon he'd be out of the room, out of the Institute, and back in the apartment. He shifted his backpack on his shoulders and took a deep breath.
The door opened, slamming against the opposite wall. Rahne stood there, clutching her messenger bag with one hand and panting, her hair sticking up.
"I'm sorry Ms. Coy Mahn," she said, "I was on time, I really was, but I lost one of my books and-"
She spotted Doug and her eyes widened. For some reason he didn't mind this type of staring. Not when it was from someone he knew.
"Doug!" Rahne shrieked.
She ran up and then stopped herself, settling for waving to him enthusiastically. The rest of the class was laughing, but Rahne ignored them. Ms. Coy Mahn sighed.
"I'll excuse you for being late this just this once," she said, "Now take a seat, and please try not to make your entrances so dramatic."
Rahne nodded, but she didn't move.
"Where's Doug sitting?" she asked.
"The third row," said Ms. Coy Mahn.
"Great!" Rahne said, "I sit there too!"
Without a second of hesitation she grabbed Doug's hand. He allowed her to pull him to the third row, seating herself at the desk on his right. Next to her a girl with dark brown hair and tinted glasses waved and Rahne waved back. Ms. Coy Mahn turned back to the board and Rahne leaned over to his desk.
"That's Carly," she said, "I'll introduce you at lunch."
She grinned.
"I'm really glad you're here."
Doug smiled back, feeling for the first time since he came to the Institute that staying might not be such a bad idea after all.