"What're you doin' home so early?" Rogue put down her book (Anne Rice, looked like figures)
and stretched, her bare feet touching the end of her bed. She'd been sick the past couple of days,
you know, so she hadn't been at school.
"Not feeling well," I half-lied, dumping my backpack on the floor and sprawling on top of my
sheets. She didn't respond although, I mean, I'll admit that I can't disguise the emotions in my
voice very well. But Rogue doesn't probe much. She went back to her book and I stared at the
ceiling, trying to pick out patterns. There a face, there a finger, there a dragon or something.
Speaking of dragons . . .
I pulled a stuffed dragon out from under my back and held it to my chest. It wasn't my old
dragon, which had been lost (along with just about everything) when the mansion exploded. The
polyster skin was still glossy and cold, the plush filling still a little hard, a little unyielding. It
had taken years for my old dragon to acquire the soft, comfortable, threadbare quality that had
made it mine. I sighed, trying to let a little of the hurt out . . . but it came right back and settled
in my gut.
I wanted things back to how they had been . . . in the past, before we were mutants and freaks and
creatures to be feared. Before we had to rebuild the mansion from scratch. Before everyone had
quickly, in a matter of seconds, lost whatever social status they had . . . not to mention all
peripheral friends. Before the Brotherhood had started to really hate us and we them. Before I
lost Lance, not only to Hargeis, but to that hard bitterness that Mystique had re-imposed upon his
group.
It wasn't fair. We'd almost got it. I really think, that if Magneto and Mystique and Trask and his
blasted Sentinels had stayed away, we would have figured out how to be out in the open and be
accepted for it. I really think it might have worked. We could have merged with the
Brotherhood, or at least given them a decent place to live, we could have slowly told our friends
and maybe, eventually, everyone might know and not care. It'd be like having athlete's foot or
being a secret nerd. An idiosyncrasy, but nothing more.
They wouldn't have to know how destructive we could be.
I'm not much of a villain. I'm not really much of a hero either. I'm a social kind of girl, a filler
who maybe acts as public relations, maybe kicks a few tails here and there, maybe does some
computer analysis, but mostly just lives. I can't handle the hard edged, fight or flight, world I've
been thrust in. I don't like conflict and I don't like fighting.
But I suspect it's just going to get harder.
"So . . . I guess the Professor hasn't told ya yet."
I glanced over at Rogue, who, for all she was talking, appeared to be still reading her book.
"Told me what?"
"That he's leaving again. Apparently there's some kind of regional convention on what to do . . .
about us, and he needs to be there."
"Oh. Well. Yeah, I guess he does." I didn't like it, though. For some reason, whenever the
Professor wasn't with us, bad things happened.
"It's only for a night."
"Let me guess it's tonight."
"Yeah, he didn't wanna worry us." Rogue shut her book and swung her legs over the side of the
bed, "He never does. Sometahmes I kinda wish he would, though."
"Yeah. Maybe we could have made plans for another party,"I said, joking of course.
"No one would have come, anyway." Rogue was good at squelching jokes, of course.
"Yeah, like, I know. Doesn't matter. Who needs friends, right?"
"Rahght."
"Rogue, I'm scared." It popped out before I had a chance to censor it.
"Scared in general or scared 'cause the Professor's goin'?"
"Both, I guess."
"Good. We all need to be alert. 'Cause ya know as well as Ah do that Mystique's been lookin'
for an openin' and she'll use it," Rogue was suddenly all business as if she'd been taking lessons
from Scott, "We gotta consider the mansion under hahgh security. And maybe Jean better handle
Cerebro if the Prof lets her 'cause if the Brotherhood don' attack here, they'll attack somewhere
else . . ."
I sat up, swinging my legs over the side, "Whoa . . . whoa, Rogue. I mean, how do we know the
Brotherhood will do anything? Lance told me off today because . . . because, well, there was a
little X-men power flinging at lunch . . ."
Rogue's jaw dropped, "Yer kiddin'. After two months, you blow the lid lahke that?"
"Not me," I snapped, "Kurt and Jean. Keeping Duncan and his idiots away from Scott. It was
perfectly justified. But if the Brotherhood is telling ius/i to keep quiet, I dunno, maybe
they're gonna . . ."
"They ain't gonna keep quiet," Rogue said darkly, "They ain't gonna keep quiet. Maybe no
human's gonna see 'em, but we're gonna and we've gotta. They've still got Wanda, and they got
a lot of new kids we don' know hardly nothin' about. They could trash half the town before the
first sirens call out and we'd never know it unless we were watchin'."
"Most of those new kids aren't even trained," I protested, "and I think most of them are pretty
young, pre high school."
"Except Hargeis and Rafael," Rogue countered.
"Forget Rafael. I overheard Hargeis telling Lance he kept getting beat up."
"That mahght be just because he ain't usin' his powers, like a smart kid. And you ain't seen him.
I have. He's little, smaller than Kurt. But you and Ah both know that Kurt's not very
intimidatin' at school, but when he's gotta fight, he fights, and he ain't hardly a wimp."
"But you don't iknow/i that about Rafael." I wasn't really arguing now, I was fighting the
reality of what she was saying. See, I wanted her to be wrong. The idea of having to go out and
spar with the Brotherhood and in all liklihood cause a mess and get hurt and yadda yadda didn't
appeal to me at all. I wanted to stay home and veg in front of the television, gosh, even do
homework.
"Ah don't iknow/i about anyone, and that ain't good at all. And even if Rafael is a
pushover, Hargeis at least looks tough and we all know that Wanda can take us all out if she feels
lahke it."
I leaned back on the covers in exasperation, covering my eyes, "Then let's just stay home. Even
if they do pull something, and I'm not saying they will, they're stronger than us now and we
don't know how to fight them. And if we do fight them . . . well, you know how messy it gets.
Let them go bust some place quietly, do whatever, and maybe no one will notice."
But even I knew that if the Brotherhood did anything more than eat out at McDonalds, we'd be
out there to stop them. Because Scott, at least, had something to prove. Because we all did. We
had to prove, if only to ourselves, that there was a reason we had our powers. That there was a
reason we were mutants hated mutants, at that. We had to protect humanity, because otherwise
there was no reason for our existence.
We weren't saving the world, we were saving ourselves.
and stretched, her bare feet touching the end of her bed. She'd been sick the past couple of days,
you know, so she hadn't been at school.
"Not feeling well," I half-lied, dumping my backpack on the floor and sprawling on top of my
sheets. She didn't respond although, I mean, I'll admit that I can't disguise the emotions in my
voice very well. But Rogue doesn't probe much. She went back to her book and I stared at the
ceiling, trying to pick out patterns. There a face, there a finger, there a dragon or something.
Speaking of dragons . . .
I pulled a stuffed dragon out from under my back and held it to my chest. It wasn't my old
dragon, which had been lost (along with just about everything) when the mansion exploded. The
polyster skin was still glossy and cold, the plush filling still a little hard, a little unyielding. It
had taken years for my old dragon to acquire the soft, comfortable, threadbare quality that had
made it mine. I sighed, trying to let a little of the hurt out . . . but it came right back and settled
in my gut.
I wanted things back to how they had been . . . in the past, before we were mutants and freaks and
creatures to be feared. Before we had to rebuild the mansion from scratch. Before everyone had
quickly, in a matter of seconds, lost whatever social status they had . . . not to mention all
peripheral friends. Before the Brotherhood had started to really hate us and we them. Before I
lost Lance, not only to Hargeis, but to that hard bitterness that Mystique had re-imposed upon his
group.
It wasn't fair. We'd almost got it. I really think, that if Magneto and Mystique and Trask and his
blasted Sentinels had stayed away, we would have figured out how to be out in the open and be
accepted for it. I really think it might have worked. We could have merged with the
Brotherhood, or at least given them a decent place to live, we could have slowly told our friends
and maybe, eventually, everyone might know and not care. It'd be like having athlete's foot or
being a secret nerd. An idiosyncrasy, but nothing more.
They wouldn't have to know how destructive we could be.
I'm not much of a villain. I'm not really much of a hero either. I'm a social kind of girl, a filler
who maybe acts as public relations, maybe kicks a few tails here and there, maybe does some
computer analysis, but mostly just lives. I can't handle the hard edged, fight or flight, world I've
been thrust in. I don't like conflict and I don't like fighting.
But I suspect it's just going to get harder.
"So . . . I guess the Professor hasn't told ya yet."
I glanced over at Rogue, who, for all she was talking, appeared to be still reading her book.
"Told me what?"
"That he's leaving again. Apparently there's some kind of regional convention on what to do . . .
about us, and he needs to be there."
"Oh. Well. Yeah, I guess he does." I didn't like it, though. For some reason, whenever the
Professor wasn't with us, bad things happened.
"It's only for a night."
"Let me guess it's tonight."
"Yeah, he didn't wanna worry us." Rogue shut her book and swung her legs over the side of the
bed, "He never does. Sometahmes I kinda wish he would, though."
"Yeah. Maybe we could have made plans for another party,"I said, joking of course.
"No one would have come, anyway." Rogue was good at squelching jokes, of course.
"Yeah, like, I know. Doesn't matter. Who needs friends, right?"
"Rahght."
"Rogue, I'm scared." It popped out before I had a chance to censor it.
"Scared in general or scared 'cause the Professor's goin'?"
"Both, I guess."
"Good. We all need to be alert. 'Cause ya know as well as Ah do that Mystique's been lookin'
for an openin' and she'll use it," Rogue was suddenly all business as if she'd been taking lessons
from Scott, "We gotta consider the mansion under hahgh security. And maybe Jean better handle
Cerebro if the Prof lets her 'cause if the Brotherhood don' attack here, they'll attack somewhere
else . . ."
I sat up, swinging my legs over the side, "Whoa . . . whoa, Rogue. I mean, how do we know the
Brotherhood will do anything? Lance told me off today because . . . because, well, there was a
little X-men power flinging at lunch . . ."
Rogue's jaw dropped, "Yer kiddin'. After two months, you blow the lid lahke that?"
"Not me," I snapped, "Kurt and Jean. Keeping Duncan and his idiots away from Scott. It was
perfectly justified. But if the Brotherhood is telling ius/i to keep quiet, I dunno, maybe
they're gonna . . ."
"They ain't gonna keep quiet," Rogue said darkly, "They ain't gonna keep quiet. Maybe no
human's gonna see 'em, but we're gonna and we've gotta. They've still got Wanda, and they got
a lot of new kids we don' know hardly nothin' about. They could trash half the town before the
first sirens call out and we'd never know it unless we were watchin'."
"Most of those new kids aren't even trained," I protested, "and I think most of them are pretty
young, pre high school."
"Except Hargeis and Rafael," Rogue countered.
"Forget Rafael. I overheard Hargeis telling Lance he kept getting beat up."
"That mahght be just because he ain't usin' his powers, like a smart kid. And you ain't seen him.
I have. He's little, smaller than Kurt. But you and Ah both know that Kurt's not very
intimidatin' at school, but when he's gotta fight, he fights, and he ain't hardly a wimp."
"But you don't iknow/i that about Rafael." I wasn't really arguing now, I was fighting the
reality of what she was saying. See, I wanted her to be wrong. The idea of having to go out and
spar with the Brotherhood and in all liklihood cause a mess and get hurt and yadda yadda didn't
appeal to me at all. I wanted to stay home and veg in front of the television, gosh, even do
homework.
"Ah don't iknow/i about anyone, and that ain't good at all. And even if Rafael is a
pushover, Hargeis at least looks tough and we all know that Wanda can take us all out if she feels
lahke it."
I leaned back on the covers in exasperation, covering my eyes, "Then let's just stay home. Even
if they do pull something, and I'm not saying they will, they're stronger than us now and we
don't know how to fight them. And if we do fight them . . . well, you know how messy it gets.
Let them go bust some place quietly, do whatever, and maybe no one will notice."
But even I knew that if the Brotherhood did anything more than eat out at McDonalds, we'd be
out there to stop them. Because Scott, at least, had something to prove. Because we all did. We
had to prove, if only to ourselves, that there was a reason we had our powers. That there was a
reason we were mutants hated mutants, at that. We had to protect humanity, because otherwise
there was no reason for our existence.
We weren't saving the world, we were saving ourselves.