Disclaimer!!! X-Men Evolution belongs to Marvel Comics and the Kids WB. I do not own it in any way shape or form, nor do I intend to make any money off of this thing. It's for everyone's enjoyment (at least I hope ;) and that's all. The characters belong to their respective creators, and are used with permission. Yay! Fun! Enjoy! Okay, let's see... if you are in the fic, please tell me if I'm portraying your character correctly, if there's any plot suggestions (can't guarantee I'll use them, but I'll consider everything), or any complaints or suggestions at all. Okay, that's all, I'm done, have fun. :) Also... if you're in this fic and you're reading, -please review-. I cannot stress this enough. I need your opinions and thoughts if you want me to continue this! n_n
However, I'm giving everyone a warning: if you haven't reviewed at all, the possibility that your character will die shoots up dramatically. ^_~ I'm not promising anything, but I'm just saying that if you haven't given me -any- feedback at all... be worried. -.- Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed -- I appreciate it muchly. :) Okay, here's the chapter...
Lee was jostled to and fro as she attempted to get off of the bus. It's not like they should be so eager to go to school, she thought, hunching her shoulders forward to make herself less of a shoving target. It didn't work, and she glared at the football player with no neck who, laughing, shoved her aside and went off to join his friends. Lee concentrated for a second - hydrogen and oxygen, it was easy, almost subconscious - and grinned wickedly, to the dismayed shouts of the jock.
"Ford, did you just -piss your pants-?" someone demanded, holding back snorts of laughter.
"No, man! I swear! It's like something splashed me!"
"Like what, dumbass? The ground's perfectly fuckin' dry."
"I don't know! I just know I didn't do it!!"
Lee giggled to herself as she went into the school. She knew that she should feel bad, since the kid probably hadn't -meant- to hurt her, but that laugh of his had annoyed her. It had fused together with the more sinister chuckles of people mocking her and-- And she knew, now, that if anyone ever picked on her again, she'd be able to put a stop to it - in other words, there'd be a rash of "accidents."
She paused outside of Casimir Pulaski High School, examining it carefully. It was one of those ugly brick buildings that always seemed to be either schools or police stations; this one had the added bonus of several "avant guarde" metal statues in colors straight out of the seventies: puke green, piss yellow, and indescribable pea green.
There was a small sign near the door that said, "Welcome to CPHS!! New student orientation in the auditorium!!"
Now, the only problem would be actually -finding- the auditorium - despite its innate ugliness, CPHS was literally -huge-. It sprawled on for a quarter of mile and three stories, and probably had a basement as well. Her old school in Toronto had been half this size, and that was in a real city, too. Champlain was too goddamn rich for her liking.
Someone tugged on her backpack, and she turned around, pushing the glasses further towards the bridge of her nose, reflexively. It was Rafe, and he looked at her with pleading eyes. "Help?"
"With what?" Lee wanted to know, gesturing towards the school. She didn't want to be late to student orientation, she'd had nightmares about being sent to the Principal's office on her first day - Rán would kill her. They went inside, twirling in an intricate dance to avoid the crush of students yelling, screaming, and reacquainting themselves after a summer's break. The effect was something like being trapped inside the primate house at the zoo.
"I'm not well with directions," Rafe explained, twisting to avoid a tiny, delicate wren of a girl, who was carrying a book bag almost half her size.
"You're not 'good' with directions."
"Yes," he agreed. "Do you know where the auditorium is?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Lee said, "But I suppose we can look for it. 'Scuse me--" she called, grabbing onto someone's arm.
"What?" the student asked.
"Uh, where's the auditorium?"
"Just go straight down that hallway," she said, pointing.
"Thanks. You know, you -could- have asked for directions?"
He gave her one of those looks, the puppy-dog eye sort of look. "No, Rafe, not everyone hates you," she said, trying to avert a crisis - it was bad enough being in school for the first time without having a pity trip. It seemed to work, because he grinned at her, as though realizing what he was doing wrong. They walked together to the auditorium, which was easy to find, once you knew what direction to walk in.
"Hey! There's all of the others," Rafe said, "Let's sit with them."
X
Nikki looked up just as Rafe and Lee arrived, a bit later than everyone else. They were lucky that the Institute kids took up almost the entire row, and there were just two seats left in the back (where they gravitated, naturally). The students moved in little groups, and weren't willing to break up their cliques for only two seats. Other unlucky late arrivals were forced to sit in the very front row, under the watchful eye of a short and stocky woman who looked as though she wore a poorly constructed wig.
The woman, who introduced herself as Principal Parker, stared suspiciously at the students, as though expecting them to leap up and attack her. When she spoke, little bits of spittle flew from her mouth, onto the cringing faces of those unfortunates in the front. "Welcome to a new year at Casimir Pulaski," she said, with a voice as deep and booming as a drill sergeant's, "I hope you will enjoy your stay here... But put one toe out of line, -just one toe-, and I will personally skin you alive and make shoes from your sorry carcass. Thank you; now, I will hand the stand over to Vice Principal Harrison."
"That woman," Cam whispered to Nikki, "Is crazy."
"With a capital C," she agreed. "Watch out. Better not talk, you don't want to end up as a pair of shoes!"
"What kind of shoes, I wonder?" a girl, one row up, whispered. "I've always wanted to be a part of Gucci."
"Uh, uh, what Ms. Parker -m-m-eant- to s-say was that at Casimir Pulaski, you're a p-part of the C-C-CPHS f-family," Mr. Harrison, a small and spindly man, stuttered. He had a comb over that flopped about in the breeze from the overhead fan. As he continued speaking, the stutter only got worse - more noticeable, more pronounced, and, at the end, more embarrassing. "If y-you n-need any help, we'll b-be g-glad to offer ass-ass-ass--"
The students giggled, and he looked mortified. "Stop that!" Nikki demanded, feeling sorry for the poor man, "He can't help it!"
Lee, who had been snickering, shot her a slightly guilty look, and covered her mouth.
"Ass-ass-assistance," Mr. Harrison finished, finally. "Here is a t-t-t-transparenceny of y-your h-h-h-h-h-homer-rooms. L-l-lunch is in th-three p-periods, a h-half hour each. W-we are h-h-handing out r-r-rule b-books f-for you t-t-to r-read. Th-thank y-you, y-you m-m-m-may g-g-go t-t-t-t-t-t-to c-class as s-s-s-s-s-s-soon as y-you f-find what h-h-h-h-h-h-h-homeroom n-number y-you are."
Sweating heavily, he was lead off the stage by another teacher, who calmly put up the transparencies, one by one, letting the students scan their names. Soon, the auditorium was growing noisy as they sensed the end of the officialness to the meeting, talking to new friends and new enemies. "Hey, Joey, you're in the homeroom next to mine!" Nikki said, "What floor d' you think it's on?"
Joey scanned the map on the back of his rulebook, and groaned. "Oh, god, we've got a hell of a walk - look at this. It's -all the way across the school.-"
"There's no way we can get there in time! There's only four minutes passing!"
Joey hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders, and looked at her with a pained expression on his face. "How fast can you run?"
X
Jenna Sintor walked slowly along the hallways of CPHS, going at a leisurely clip. She assumed that if she was late to class, today at least, the teachers would excuse her for being new. With this relative freedom, she was able to better examine the walls and inner workings of the place. Motivational posters were plastered on every wall, including one with a cute kitten holding onto a clothesline, that said, "Hang in there!!" Another said, "30 Years From Now, It Won't Matter What Jeans You Wore, Or What Your Hair Looked Like - What You LEARNED Will Matter!"
It was rather sad, actually. Another poster featured a field of red tulips with one yellow one in the center. "You Are Unique!!" it claimed, in bubbly yellow letters. You have no idea, Jenna thought.
Eventually, she found her homeroom, with a small sign that said, "10-7 Mr. Corey - 12th Grade English" and hesitated outside of it for a long moment. Did she really want to go in now? Who would notice if she just cut first period? After debating mentally for a short period of time, Jenna shrugged and went inside.
All of the other students were seated already, and they looked up curiously as the door squeaked open. She looked back at them and waved; the teacher glared. "Sit down, please, Miss..."
"Sintor," she told him.
"We're delighted that you decided to join us. Please take a seat."
"And I'm -delighted- to be here," she said.
"Yes, well, we're -all- thrilled, then," the teacher said sarcastically, looking down the length of his thin nose in disgust. She imagined him eating pickle after pickle for lunch, each briny vegetable pinching his face just a little more, until the whole thing looked pressed and pug-like, soured and dried out and decaying.
Why do people like that even bother teaching? Jenna thought; it's obvious he hates children. So why torture himself all day? She snickered softly. Maybe he's a masochist.
"Miss Sintor."
"Yes?"
"Is something... amusing, Miss Sintor?"
"No, Mr. Corey."
"You may call me 'sir,' and this is thrice you have annoyed me."
"Yes, sir. But you do get annoyed easily."
"Silence!"
"Don't bother," the girl sitting in back of her whispered, "It's Mr. Corey. Everyone knows he's a jerk - just nod and smile."
"Thanks," Jenna whispered back.
"No talking -please-," Mr. Corey said.
Jenna nodded and smiled. He ignored her, and began to pick on a white kid with dreadlocks and a Bob Marley t-shirt.
Finally the bell rang, and homeroom was dismissed. The girl who'd whispered to her smiled once they were outside of the room. "You're new, aren't you?" she asked, "I'm so sorry you had to experience Corey first thing you've gotten here, but not everything at CPHS is so horrible. I'm Lindsey," she said.
Jenna examined the girl coolly, and decided that this student was probably not very popular. She had frizzy reddish hair and rather large front teeth, but a nice smile counteracted the horse-look. "Jenna Sintor."
"So, what part of town d' you live in?" Lindsey asked, "I mean, if you don't want to say anything, I understand, but I can tell you all the fun places to hang out."
None of us have really been 'hanging out,' she thought, It's either working on things at the Institute, or those horrible combat training classes. "Sure... I'm at the Champlain Institute." No one knew that they were mutants - at least, she didn't think anyone did - they were newer than Xavier's School, and they hadn't gone costume yet.
"Oh, there's nothing much there," Lindsey said, shaking her head, "You'll have to take the subway into the city, I think."
"That's not really a problem... They give us pocket money, there."
"Great!" Lindsey said, "What do you have first period?"
"Uh... Geometry."
"So do I, it's supposed to be a good class. Do you need help finding the classroom?"
Jenna wasn't sure whether to regret talking to the somewhat clingy student... Obviously, Lindsey meant well, but it was rather smothering. "I think I'm okay... I want to stop for a drink. Meet you there."
"Okay," Lindsey said, and waved.
Jenna sighed, expelling her breath through her teeth. She went over to the water fountain, now that most of the kids had cleared out of the hallway. Checking for security cameras, she found none. Concentrating for a second, she formed her hand into a small, simple tool, and pried the hole where the water came from a little wider - the next person to drink there would get a splash of water in their face. She grinned, feeling a little better, and went to class.
X
Rafe began walking to class by himself, feeling strangely drained. The day hadn't even started yet, but he was feeling rather hostile towards the school and the people in general. This is not like me, he thought, but was swallowed up in an engrossing wave of apathy. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt - it was chilly in the hallway.
"Hi!!" someone chirped, at his elbow.
"Ce qui?" he asked, surprise making him lapse into French. "I mean, what?"
"Hi! How are you? It's me! Melanie! From the bus? Remember? We talked? Well, you talked and I listened, but I'm babbling! Aren't I babbling? My mom always yells at me but I can't seem to stop," the girl prattled. Her blonde hair bounced in a pigtail on either side of her head. He looked at her dispassionately, and she smiled, standing in a way so that her arms pushed her breasts upward, against the already tight Hello Kitty shirt.
"Oh. Oh, yeah, hi," he said, after a pause.
"What's wrong?" she wanted to know, frowning and pouting, "You were more cheerful this morning."
Rafe sighed and tried to escape - he really, really didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. He wanted to go home, sit in his room, and hide his head under his pillow. Oh, and maybe doze off and fall asleep. That would be nice. Dealing with dangerously perky, underage girls was not high on his priority list. "Yes, I'm, uh, je suis malade - I'm not feeling well."
"Oh! I'm sorry!!" Melanie gasped, "I'll, I'll leave you alone and, and, I hope you feel better!"
"Thanks." Rafe made his escape, wondering at his sudden curtness - especially to a girl who meant no harm in the first place. He should have been polite, he really should have been - except at the moment, he was finding it difficult to care.
X
Barbara Michaels glanced down the attendance list for her class. Several names stuck out; all three were new students: Aaliyah Christianson, Cameron D'Amore, and Leanna Nelson. The administration had told her to keep an eye on those three, but she wasn't sure why. The only other information she'd been able to find was that they all lived in the Champlain Institute, which was to all appearances a boarding school.
Reform school? No... She would have heard about -that- if it was the case. She eyed the three curiously as the other students filtered in; they were already seated. The first one, Aaliyah, looked like she would be trouble - or at least unhappy to be in school. The blue-haired teen sat with her arms folded over her chest, scowling at everyone. Cameron didn't seem as though he'd be a problem; the boy was unfolding his books and searching for a pencil - he looked rather shy, maybe a bit awkward. The other one...
With her thick glasses and flyaway brown hair, the girl certainly didn't present a conventional image, but she wasn't as noticeable as Aaliyah. She exuded a feeling of boredom, chafing at the restrictions of the school... At the moment, Leanna Nelson was squirming around in her seat, trying to see everyone as they came in. Growing tired of that, she began ripping up her rulebook, making little paper footballs out of it, which were flicked at the back of Cameron's head.
"Stop it!" he insisted. "Cut it out!"
She merely smiled at him, all sweetness and innocence.
Barbara groaned. Between her, Aaliyah, and the other troublemakers who populated the grade, she was going to have her hands full. Shuffling the papers in her hands, she greeted the now-seated classroom. "Good morning, class," she said with a smile, smoothing down her crisp white hair - Ben said it was even more beautiful now than it had ever been - he was one to talk; his hair was entirely gun-metal gray. Still, she had never dyed it, and she thought the students responded to her honesty in appearance.
"Good morrrrrning, Mrs. Michaels," they droned.
"I have the honor to teach you - or try to teach you - the wonderful subject of -history-." Groans, catcalls. "Shh. It can be a lot of fun to learn about the past, if you let it be - I want all of you to -try- this year, really start working. I know you'll enjoy yourselves more if you do." Every year, she gave some variant of the speech, but it never really worked. There were always one or two students who responded, and the rest just goofed off and ignored her.
Sighing, she went to the blackboard to begin outlining the course syllabus. New students. There had been new students, last year, but she hadn't seen any of them, yet. There had been one boy, Jarek Fischer... An intelligent young man, but undirected, wild. She hoped that her new charges would be a bit more responsible - it was always easier that way.
X
Yawning, Rafe looked out the window, consumed by ennui, and... Wait a minute. What the hell was he thinking? That's not how he thought, not how he acted. With the mental equivalent of a blink, he shook off the odd feelings of chilly, emotionless boredom and quite rapidly felt more like himself. Ah. That was -better-. Still, it was quite strange - he'd put more thought into what happened after school was over.
"Mr. Robuchon?" the English teacher asked, thin, pinched face scrunched in an expression of pure, malicious delight.
"Uh, oui?"
"Do you normally put this much effort into making a first impression?"
"I... was not aware I was impressing anyone," Rafe said, and raised his eyebrows at the snickers he garnered from the other students.
"Do not -hide- behind your accent," Mr. Corey snapped, "I know you speak English well enough to understand me."
"English -is- my second language, sir," Rafe said, "You'll have to be patient with me."
"Patience," said the teacher, "Is, unfortunately, a virtue I do not possess. You will adapt, or you will fail."
Dieu, this man is insane, Rafe thought.
"MR. ROBUCHON."
"Yes, sir!"
"-Are you paying attention?!-"
"Yes, I am, but you haven't even started teaching yet," Rafe said, honestly confused.
"That's enough out of you!" Mr. Corey snapped, "Detention! Two hours, after school!"
Rafe groaned and put his head down on the desk - he just couldn't win.
"Pick your head up!!"
X
Darien, in his own English class, wasn't having any luck, either. -His- teacher was a seemingly harmless woman, average sized and of average height, with plain, smooth brown hair and a sweet smile - but then she opened her mouth! The woman was a complete, virulent, man-hater. There was no other word for it. She'd introduced the class by saying, "Although the -administration- demands that I teach you -male- authors, I will be -focusing- on the more insightful works of the early and late feminists."
Darien had realized, then, that he was in trouble.
The minute he'd started to doze off, she'd jumped on him. "Darien!"
He'd merely looked at her, wide-eyed, too concentrated on not ghosting out of the room to even respond. Why did she have to pick on him, like this? Everyone was staring at the weird kid with red eyes and white hair. He had to make sure he didn't fade - no one at the school knew he was a mutant, at least.
"Are you even listening to me?" the woman demanded.
He stared at her, just a single, skinny deer caught in the headlights.
"That's -just- like a man," she snapped, "Marisa!"
"Yes, Miss Kingston?"
"That's -Ms.- Kingston, Marisa."
"Sorry."
"Would you care to tell us everything you know about The Feminine Mystique?"
It was turning out to be a -long- day...
X
Rafe sped towards the door the minute the bell rang. Mr. Corey had already assigned a paper to write, even though they hadn't really covered anything in class. That couldn't be normal - maybe there was something wrong with the man. Rafe fantasized momentarily about the teacher being dropped repeatedly on his head as a child, and sighed happily, at least, until he bumped into someone.
"Hi!!"
"Hi, Melanie..." he said as cheerfully as he could manage.
"Can I walk you to your next class?"
"Uh..."
"Come on!! It'll be fun! I can talk to you!"
Rafe winced. There was such a thing as being -nice- to girls, and then, there was Melanie. The chirpy, breathless voice was enough to drive anyone crazy, and the complete and total lack of an interesting personality, coupled with the first quality, was enough to make anyone want to vomit. "...Great," he said, though his patience plummeted towards the floor.
By sheer chance, he managed to catch a glimpse of Lee Nelson, fighting a losing battle to make her way through the crowd. She was squeezed in between a group of people holding hands, and several others who were going very, very slowly.
"...and it's really really fun to shop at Abercrombie!" Melanie chirped, "They have the -coolest- clothes!"
He caught Lee's eye and mouthed, "HELP," at her, and smiled disarmingly at the blonde girl. "They do?"
"Yes!!" Melanie said, grabbing hold of his arm, "Would you like to go shopping with me?!"
"Um..."
"Rafe!" Lee said, squirming as quickly as possible through the crush of students, and throwing her arms around him, elbowing Melanie out of the way as she did so.
He blinked. That had -not- been what he was expecting. "Lee? Ce qui sont vous faisant*?"
"Je me débarasse de votre ombre**," she said, "Oh, Rafe, first period was horrible! I missed you so much!"
"Who's... that?" Melanie asked, letting go of his arm and looking at Lee suspiciously.
"Who are -you-?" Lee demanded, "Rafe, is there someone you're not telling me about?" Her chin trembled, and she looked as though she was about to burst into tears.
"No, no!" he said reassuringly, "This is just my friend Mela... Hey, she's gone!"
Lee promptly detached herself and bowed, insamuch as that was possible, with all the people, and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry about that. No harm done, and she should stay away from you for a while. Better run - -I'm- going to be late!"
"Uh, thanks," he said, meaning it sincerely. The bell rang and he winced - it looked as though -he- was going to be late, as well. I'm not cut out for this!
X
The lights were just as bright today, but the one standing in front of them was more assured. This figure, as far as could be told from the blinding silhouette, was a short, though voluptuous woman, holding herself in a rather seductive pose. "We are... making progress with the project," she said, voice husky, "But we don't want to repeat what happened last time."
The man who had been addressed only as "sir" looked up at her, voice sympathetic. "I'm doing the best I can, but there's more powerful things pushing on me. I'm trying," he said, in quite a change of tone from the last time he'd talked to one of these people, "I am. I love you," he finished.
"Do you?" the woman said, sounding amused. "I don't think you do."
He stood abruptly and pulled her into his lap. "Sit down," he said, sounding amused, now, "And I'll show you."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Lee? What are you doing?
**I'm getting rid of your shadow.
However, I'm giving everyone a warning: if you haven't reviewed at all, the possibility that your character will die shoots up dramatically. ^_~ I'm not promising anything, but I'm just saying that if you haven't given me -any- feedback at all... be worried. -.- Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed -- I appreciate it muchly. :) Okay, here's the chapter...
Lee was jostled to and fro as she attempted to get off of the bus. It's not like they should be so eager to go to school, she thought, hunching her shoulders forward to make herself less of a shoving target. It didn't work, and she glared at the football player with no neck who, laughing, shoved her aside and went off to join his friends. Lee concentrated for a second - hydrogen and oxygen, it was easy, almost subconscious - and grinned wickedly, to the dismayed shouts of the jock.
"Ford, did you just -piss your pants-?" someone demanded, holding back snorts of laughter.
"No, man! I swear! It's like something splashed me!"
"Like what, dumbass? The ground's perfectly fuckin' dry."
"I don't know! I just know I didn't do it!!"
Lee giggled to herself as she went into the school. She knew that she should feel bad, since the kid probably hadn't -meant- to hurt her, but that laugh of his had annoyed her. It had fused together with the more sinister chuckles of people mocking her and-- And she knew, now, that if anyone ever picked on her again, she'd be able to put a stop to it - in other words, there'd be a rash of "accidents."
She paused outside of Casimir Pulaski High School, examining it carefully. It was one of those ugly brick buildings that always seemed to be either schools or police stations; this one had the added bonus of several "avant guarde" metal statues in colors straight out of the seventies: puke green, piss yellow, and indescribable pea green.
There was a small sign near the door that said, "Welcome to CPHS!! New student orientation in the auditorium!!"
Now, the only problem would be actually -finding- the auditorium - despite its innate ugliness, CPHS was literally -huge-. It sprawled on for a quarter of mile and three stories, and probably had a basement as well. Her old school in Toronto had been half this size, and that was in a real city, too. Champlain was too goddamn rich for her liking.
Someone tugged on her backpack, and she turned around, pushing the glasses further towards the bridge of her nose, reflexively. It was Rafe, and he looked at her with pleading eyes. "Help?"
"With what?" Lee wanted to know, gesturing towards the school. She didn't want to be late to student orientation, she'd had nightmares about being sent to the Principal's office on her first day - Rán would kill her. They went inside, twirling in an intricate dance to avoid the crush of students yelling, screaming, and reacquainting themselves after a summer's break. The effect was something like being trapped inside the primate house at the zoo.
"I'm not well with directions," Rafe explained, twisting to avoid a tiny, delicate wren of a girl, who was carrying a book bag almost half her size.
"You're not 'good' with directions."
"Yes," he agreed. "Do you know where the auditorium is?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Lee said, "But I suppose we can look for it. 'Scuse me--" she called, grabbing onto someone's arm.
"What?" the student asked.
"Uh, where's the auditorium?"
"Just go straight down that hallway," she said, pointing.
"Thanks. You know, you -could- have asked for directions?"
He gave her one of those looks, the puppy-dog eye sort of look. "No, Rafe, not everyone hates you," she said, trying to avert a crisis - it was bad enough being in school for the first time without having a pity trip. It seemed to work, because he grinned at her, as though realizing what he was doing wrong. They walked together to the auditorium, which was easy to find, once you knew what direction to walk in.
"Hey! There's all of the others," Rafe said, "Let's sit with them."
X
Nikki looked up just as Rafe and Lee arrived, a bit later than everyone else. They were lucky that the Institute kids took up almost the entire row, and there were just two seats left in the back (where they gravitated, naturally). The students moved in little groups, and weren't willing to break up their cliques for only two seats. Other unlucky late arrivals were forced to sit in the very front row, under the watchful eye of a short and stocky woman who looked as though she wore a poorly constructed wig.
The woman, who introduced herself as Principal Parker, stared suspiciously at the students, as though expecting them to leap up and attack her. When she spoke, little bits of spittle flew from her mouth, onto the cringing faces of those unfortunates in the front. "Welcome to a new year at Casimir Pulaski," she said, with a voice as deep and booming as a drill sergeant's, "I hope you will enjoy your stay here... But put one toe out of line, -just one toe-, and I will personally skin you alive and make shoes from your sorry carcass. Thank you; now, I will hand the stand over to Vice Principal Harrison."
"That woman," Cam whispered to Nikki, "Is crazy."
"With a capital C," she agreed. "Watch out. Better not talk, you don't want to end up as a pair of shoes!"
"What kind of shoes, I wonder?" a girl, one row up, whispered. "I've always wanted to be a part of Gucci."
"Uh, uh, what Ms. Parker -m-m-eant- to s-say was that at Casimir Pulaski, you're a p-part of the C-C-CPHS f-family," Mr. Harrison, a small and spindly man, stuttered. He had a comb over that flopped about in the breeze from the overhead fan. As he continued speaking, the stutter only got worse - more noticeable, more pronounced, and, at the end, more embarrassing. "If y-you n-need any help, we'll b-be g-glad to offer ass-ass-ass--"
The students giggled, and he looked mortified. "Stop that!" Nikki demanded, feeling sorry for the poor man, "He can't help it!"
Lee, who had been snickering, shot her a slightly guilty look, and covered her mouth.
"Ass-ass-assistance," Mr. Harrison finished, finally. "Here is a t-t-t-transparenceny of y-your h-h-h-h-h-homer-rooms. L-l-lunch is in th-three p-periods, a h-half hour each. W-we are h-h-handing out r-r-rule b-books f-for you t-t-to r-read. Th-thank y-you, y-you m-m-m-may g-g-go t-t-t-t-t-t-to c-class as s-s-s-s-s-s-soon as y-you f-find what h-h-h-h-h-h-h-homeroom n-number y-you are."
Sweating heavily, he was lead off the stage by another teacher, who calmly put up the transparencies, one by one, letting the students scan their names. Soon, the auditorium was growing noisy as they sensed the end of the officialness to the meeting, talking to new friends and new enemies. "Hey, Joey, you're in the homeroom next to mine!" Nikki said, "What floor d' you think it's on?"
Joey scanned the map on the back of his rulebook, and groaned. "Oh, god, we've got a hell of a walk - look at this. It's -all the way across the school.-"
"There's no way we can get there in time! There's only four minutes passing!"
Joey hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders, and looked at her with a pained expression on his face. "How fast can you run?"
X
Jenna Sintor walked slowly along the hallways of CPHS, going at a leisurely clip. She assumed that if she was late to class, today at least, the teachers would excuse her for being new. With this relative freedom, she was able to better examine the walls and inner workings of the place. Motivational posters were plastered on every wall, including one with a cute kitten holding onto a clothesline, that said, "Hang in there!!" Another said, "30 Years From Now, It Won't Matter What Jeans You Wore, Or What Your Hair Looked Like - What You LEARNED Will Matter!"
It was rather sad, actually. Another poster featured a field of red tulips with one yellow one in the center. "You Are Unique!!" it claimed, in bubbly yellow letters. You have no idea, Jenna thought.
Eventually, she found her homeroom, with a small sign that said, "10-7 Mr. Corey - 12th Grade English" and hesitated outside of it for a long moment. Did she really want to go in now? Who would notice if she just cut first period? After debating mentally for a short period of time, Jenna shrugged and went inside.
All of the other students were seated already, and they looked up curiously as the door squeaked open. She looked back at them and waved; the teacher glared. "Sit down, please, Miss..."
"Sintor," she told him.
"We're delighted that you decided to join us. Please take a seat."
"And I'm -delighted- to be here," she said.
"Yes, well, we're -all- thrilled, then," the teacher said sarcastically, looking down the length of his thin nose in disgust. She imagined him eating pickle after pickle for lunch, each briny vegetable pinching his face just a little more, until the whole thing looked pressed and pug-like, soured and dried out and decaying.
Why do people like that even bother teaching? Jenna thought; it's obvious he hates children. So why torture himself all day? She snickered softly. Maybe he's a masochist.
"Miss Sintor."
"Yes?"
"Is something... amusing, Miss Sintor?"
"No, Mr. Corey."
"You may call me 'sir,' and this is thrice you have annoyed me."
"Yes, sir. But you do get annoyed easily."
"Silence!"
"Don't bother," the girl sitting in back of her whispered, "It's Mr. Corey. Everyone knows he's a jerk - just nod and smile."
"Thanks," Jenna whispered back.
"No talking -please-," Mr. Corey said.
Jenna nodded and smiled. He ignored her, and began to pick on a white kid with dreadlocks and a Bob Marley t-shirt.
Finally the bell rang, and homeroom was dismissed. The girl who'd whispered to her smiled once they were outside of the room. "You're new, aren't you?" she asked, "I'm so sorry you had to experience Corey first thing you've gotten here, but not everything at CPHS is so horrible. I'm Lindsey," she said.
Jenna examined the girl coolly, and decided that this student was probably not very popular. She had frizzy reddish hair and rather large front teeth, but a nice smile counteracted the horse-look. "Jenna Sintor."
"So, what part of town d' you live in?" Lindsey asked, "I mean, if you don't want to say anything, I understand, but I can tell you all the fun places to hang out."
None of us have really been 'hanging out,' she thought, It's either working on things at the Institute, or those horrible combat training classes. "Sure... I'm at the Champlain Institute." No one knew that they were mutants - at least, she didn't think anyone did - they were newer than Xavier's School, and they hadn't gone costume yet.
"Oh, there's nothing much there," Lindsey said, shaking her head, "You'll have to take the subway into the city, I think."
"That's not really a problem... They give us pocket money, there."
"Great!" Lindsey said, "What do you have first period?"
"Uh... Geometry."
"So do I, it's supposed to be a good class. Do you need help finding the classroom?"
Jenna wasn't sure whether to regret talking to the somewhat clingy student... Obviously, Lindsey meant well, but it was rather smothering. "I think I'm okay... I want to stop for a drink. Meet you there."
"Okay," Lindsey said, and waved.
Jenna sighed, expelling her breath through her teeth. She went over to the water fountain, now that most of the kids had cleared out of the hallway. Checking for security cameras, she found none. Concentrating for a second, she formed her hand into a small, simple tool, and pried the hole where the water came from a little wider - the next person to drink there would get a splash of water in their face. She grinned, feeling a little better, and went to class.
X
Rafe began walking to class by himself, feeling strangely drained. The day hadn't even started yet, but he was feeling rather hostile towards the school and the people in general. This is not like me, he thought, but was swallowed up in an engrossing wave of apathy. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt - it was chilly in the hallway.
"Hi!!" someone chirped, at his elbow.
"Ce qui?" he asked, surprise making him lapse into French. "I mean, what?"
"Hi! How are you? It's me! Melanie! From the bus? Remember? We talked? Well, you talked and I listened, but I'm babbling! Aren't I babbling? My mom always yells at me but I can't seem to stop," the girl prattled. Her blonde hair bounced in a pigtail on either side of her head. He looked at her dispassionately, and she smiled, standing in a way so that her arms pushed her breasts upward, against the already tight Hello Kitty shirt.
"Oh. Oh, yeah, hi," he said, after a pause.
"What's wrong?" she wanted to know, frowning and pouting, "You were more cheerful this morning."
Rafe sighed and tried to escape - he really, really didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. He wanted to go home, sit in his room, and hide his head under his pillow. Oh, and maybe doze off and fall asleep. That would be nice. Dealing with dangerously perky, underage girls was not high on his priority list. "Yes, I'm, uh, je suis malade - I'm not feeling well."
"Oh! I'm sorry!!" Melanie gasped, "I'll, I'll leave you alone and, and, I hope you feel better!"
"Thanks." Rafe made his escape, wondering at his sudden curtness - especially to a girl who meant no harm in the first place. He should have been polite, he really should have been - except at the moment, he was finding it difficult to care.
X
Barbara Michaels glanced down the attendance list for her class. Several names stuck out; all three were new students: Aaliyah Christianson, Cameron D'Amore, and Leanna Nelson. The administration had told her to keep an eye on those three, but she wasn't sure why. The only other information she'd been able to find was that they all lived in the Champlain Institute, which was to all appearances a boarding school.
Reform school? No... She would have heard about -that- if it was the case. She eyed the three curiously as the other students filtered in; they were already seated. The first one, Aaliyah, looked like she would be trouble - or at least unhappy to be in school. The blue-haired teen sat with her arms folded over her chest, scowling at everyone. Cameron didn't seem as though he'd be a problem; the boy was unfolding his books and searching for a pencil - he looked rather shy, maybe a bit awkward. The other one...
With her thick glasses and flyaway brown hair, the girl certainly didn't present a conventional image, but she wasn't as noticeable as Aaliyah. She exuded a feeling of boredom, chafing at the restrictions of the school... At the moment, Leanna Nelson was squirming around in her seat, trying to see everyone as they came in. Growing tired of that, she began ripping up her rulebook, making little paper footballs out of it, which were flicked at the back of Cameron's head.
"Stop it!" he insisted. "Cut it out!"
She merely smiled at him, all sweetness and innocence.
Barbara groaned. Between her, Aaliyah, and the other troublemakers who populated the grade, she was going to have her hands full. Shuffling the papers in her hands, she greeted the now-seated classroom. "Good morning, class," she said with a smile, smoothing down her crisp white hair - Ben said it was even more beautiful now than it had ever been - he was one to talk; his hair was entirely gun-metal gray. Still, she had never dyed it, and she thought the students responded to her honesty in appearance.
"Good morrrrrning, Mrs. Michaels," they droned.
"I have the honor to teach you - or try to teach you - the wonderful subject of -history-." Groans, catcalls. "Shh. It can be a lot of fun to learn about the past, if you let it be - I want all of you to -try- this year, really start working. I know you'll enjoy yourselves more if you do." Every year, she gave some variant of the speech, but it never really worked. There were always one or two students who responded, and the rest just goofed off and ignored her.
Sighing, she went to the blackboard to begin outlining the course syllabus. New students. There had been new students, last year, but she hadn't seen any of them, yet. There had been one boy, Jarek Fischer... An intelligent young man, but undirected, wild. She hoped that her new charges would be a bit more responsible - it was always easier that way.
X
Yawning, Rafe looked out the window, consumed by ennui, and... Wait a minute. What the hell was he thinking? That's not how he thought, not how he acted. With the mental equivalent of a blink, he shook off the odd feelings of chilly, emotionless boredom and quite rapidly felt more like himself. Ah. That was -better-. Still, it was quite strange - he'd put more thought into what happened after school was over.
"Mr. Robuchon?" the English teacher asked, thin, pinched face scrunched in an expression of pure, malicious delight.
"Uh, oui?"
"Do you normally put this much effort into making a first impression?"
"I... was not aware I was impressing anyone," Rafe said, and raised his eyebrows at the snickers he garnered from the other students.
"Do not -hide- behind your accent," Mr. Corey snapped, "I know you speak English well enough to understand me."
"English -is- my second language, sir," Rafe said, "You'll have to be patient with me."
"Patience," said the teacher, "Is, unfortunately, a virtue I do not possess. You will adapt, or you will fail."
Dieu, this man is insane, Rafe thought.
"MR. ROBUCHON."
"Yes, sir!"
"-Are you paying attention?!-"
"Yes, I am, but you haven't even started teaching yet," Rafe said, honestly confused.
"That's enough out of you!" Mr. Corey snapped, "Detention! Two hours, after school!"
Rafe groaned and put his head down on the desk - he just couldn't win.
"Pick your head up!!"
X
Darien, in his own English class, wasn't having any luck, either. -His- teacher was a seemingly harmless woman, average sized and of average height, with plain, smooth brown hair and a sweet smile - but then she opened her mouth! The woman was a complete, virulent, man-hater. There was no other word for it. She'd introduced the class by saying, "Although the -administration- demands that I teach you -male- authors, I will be -focusing- on the more insightful works of the early and late feminists."
Darien had realized, then, that he was in trouble.
The minute he'd started to doze off, she'd jumped on him. "Darien!"
He'd merely looked at her, wide-eyed, too concentrated on not ghosting out of the room to even respond. Why did she have to pick on him, like this? Everyone was staring at the weird kid with red eyes and white hair. He had to make sure he didn't fade - no one at the school knew he was a mutant, at least.
"Are you even listening to me?" the woman demanded.
He stared at her, just a single, skinny deer caught in the headlights.
"That's -just- like a man," she snapped, "Marisa!"
"Yes, Miss Kingston?"
"That's -Ms.- Kingston, Marisa."
"Sorry."
"Would you care to tell us everything you know about The Feminine Mystique?"
It was turning out to be a -long- day...
X
Rafe sped towards the door the minute the bell rang. Mr. Corey had already assigned a paper to write, even though they hadn't really covered anything in class. That couldn't be normal - maybe there was something wrong with the man. Rafe fantasized momentarily about the teacher being dropped repeatedly on his head as a child, and sighed happily, at least, until he bumped into someone.
"Hi!!"
"Hi, Melanie..." he said as cheerfully as he could manage.
"Can I walk you to your next class?"
"Uh..."
"Come on!! It'll be fun! I can talk to you!"
Rafe winced. There was such a thing as being -nice- to girls, and then, there was Melanie. The chirpy, breathless voice was enough to drive anyone crazy, and the complete and total lack of an interesting personality, coupled with the first quality, was enough to make anyone want to vomit. "...Great," he said, though his patience plummeted towards the floor.
By sheer chance, he managed to catch a glimpse of Lee Nelson, fighting a losing battle to make her way through the crowd. She was squeezed in between a group of people holding hands, and several others who were going very, very slowly.
"...and it's really really fun to shop at Abercrombie!" Melanie chirped, "They have the -coolest- clothes!"
He caught Lee's eye and mouthed, "HELP," at her, and smiled disarmingly at the blonde girl. "They do?"
"Yes!!" Melanie said, grabbing hold of his arm, "Would you like to go shopping with me?!"
"Um..."
"Rafe!" Lee said, squirming as quickly as possible through the crush of students, and throwing her arms around him, elbowing Melanie out of the way as she did so.
He blinked. That had -not- been what he was expecting. "Lee? Ce qui sont vous faisant*?"
"Je me débarasse de votre ombre**," she said, "Oh, Rafe, first period was horrible! I missed you so much!"
"Who's... that?" Melanie asked, letting go of his arm and looking at Lee suspiciously.
"Who are -you-?" Lee demanded, "Rafe, is there someone you're not telling me about?" Her chin trembled, and she looked as though she was about to burst into tears.
"No, no!" he said reassuringly, "This is just my friend Mela... Hey, she's gone!"
Lee promptly detached herself and bowed, insamuch as that was possible, with all the people, and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry about that. No harm done, and she should stay away from you for a while. Better run - -I'm- going to be late!"
"Uh, thanks," he said, meaning it sincerely. The bell rang and he winced - it looked as though -he- was going to be late, as well. I'm not cut out for this!
X
The lights were just as bright today, but the one standing in front of them was more assured. This figure, as far as could be told from the blinding silhouette, was a short, though voluptuous woman, holding herself in a rather seductive pose. "We are... making progress with the project," she said, voice husky, "But we don't want to repeat what happened last time."
The man who had been addressed only as "sir" looked up at her, voice sympathetic. "I'm doing the best I can, but there's more powerful things pushing on me. I'm trying," he said, in quite a change of tone from the last time he'd talked to one of these people, "I am. I love you," he finished.
"Do you?" the woman said, sounding amused. "I don't think you do."
He stood abruptly and pulled her into his lap. "Sit down," he said, sounding amused, now, "And I'll show you."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Lee? What are you doing?
**I'm getting rid of your shadow.
