(A/N: Thanks for all the nice reviews! Yes, there will be more Brenda/Todd romance in upcoming chapters. I hadn't had a romance in mind when I started this, but sometimes stories seem to write themselves. Stay tuned, there's plenty more to come!)
The party went on until late in the evening, it being a Saturday. Brenda left about 11:30—the latest she'd ever been up in her life, not counting Midnight Mass on Christmas.
She made the rounds and said her goodnights, then started up the stairs. It was strange to think that this would be her first night in a different bed. She wondered if she'd be able to sleep. After all, it had been quite a day.
She was so lost in thought that she bumped into someone on the landing.
"Oh! I'm sorry," she said, stepping back.
"You're the new kid," the stranger said. He was an older man, probably around mid-thirties; not a student, then.
"That's right. I didn't see you at the party."
"I'm not much for parties," he said. "Not if I can't drink."
She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"You don't like loud, repetitive dance music, do you?"
"No."
"Good."
"You don't like it, then?"
"Sometimes I feel like throwing their stupid CD's out the window. I'll 'Let the Dogs Out', all right!"
Brenda laughed at that. "I can't stand that song, either. I'm more into easy listening."
The man nodded. "My name's Logan."
"Brenda." She started to extend a hand, then noticed he didn't do the same. "Sorry."
"Oh, it's okay. I'm just dirty. I was out working on my bike. I was just going to wash up."
"Well, I won't keep you then. Nice meeting you, Logan." Brenda turned away and started up the stairs, not realizing until she was in her room that she hadn't picked up any thoughts from him at all, not even background noise. Who was this man?
She had that question on her mind the next morning when she woke up. As it was only 6:30 in the morning, she didn't expect anyone else to be around, but as with everything else in this place, she was pleasantly surprised. Logan was sitting at the table, reading the morning paper. "All this over one stupid plane," he grumbled to himself.
"All what?" Brenda tried to read over his shoulder.
"This business with the US and China over that spy plane," he said, showing her. "Governments are made up of some real blockheads, in my opinion."
"I don't know much about that," Brenda confessed.
"Who really understands politics anyway?"
"What's for breakfast?"
"Nothing yet. Not till about nine or so, when everyone else gets up. You can have some coffee and a muffin in the meantime."
"Thank you." The muffins were nice and warm, like they were just out of the oven. Brenda took one and eagerly popped it in her mouth. "Mmm! These are good! Did you make them?"
"Those are Jean's handiwork, actually. She made them a little while ago."
"Couldn't she sleep either?" Brenda asked.
"She's just an early riser. I think she left the party right after you did—"
The boom of music came from upstairs. "Aw, for cryin' out loud, it's too early in the morning!"
BAMF! Kurt Wagner appeared, hanging upside-down from the chandelier, and dropped into the seat next to Brenda. "Mmm, muffins!" he exclaimed in delight.
"That your music shaking the whole house down?" Logan asked.
"Are you kidding? I hate boy bands!" Kurt scowled in disgust.
"Well, go tell whoever it is to turn their radio down!"
"Can't I finish my muffin first?"
Logan's only response was a threatening glower.
"Okay, okay!" Kurt said. "I'll go!" BAMF!
Brenda coughed and waved away the smoke. "How do you get used to that?"
"I haven't. I'm used to being on my own; I'm not the family type."
The sound of a loud argument came from upstairs.
"Terrific," Logan grumbled. "Now everyone'll be up."
"I'll go see what's wrong." Brenda got up and quickly ran up the stairs. The raised voices she heard turned out to be Kitty's and Kurt's.
"They are not stupid! I like the Backstreet Boys!"
"You ever hear of headphones?"
"It's not that loud!"
"I could hear it downstairs!"
Stop it! Brenda directed the thought at both of them. That got their attention.
"Kitty, maybe you could turn it down just a little bit? And keep your door closed?"
Kitty sighed in annoyance. "Well, Kurt didn't have to be a jerk about it!"
"I am not!"
"Oh, look," said a voice from across the hall, "the newlyweds are fighting."
All three of them turned to see a girl in a dark green robe, standing in the doorway of the room directly opposite.
"Rogue?" Kurt said. "Should you be up?"
"How can I sleep with that junk pounding into my ears?" The girl called Rogue coughed several times, then blew her nose into a tissue scrunched up in her hand.
"Are you okay?" Brenda asked. "You don't look so good."
Rogue coughed again. "I think I'll live."
"She's been sick since Friday," Kitty explained.
"That explains why I didn't see you at the party last night," said Brenda. "Would you like some herbal tea?"
"As long as it's not too hot."
"I'll go and see if we have it, then," Brenda said, and went back downstairs.
Logan was surprised to see her back so soon. "I see you got the music turned down."
"Yes. Do we have any herbal tea?"
"I think there's some in the pantry. What flavor did you want?"
"It doesn't matter." She found a canister and started boiling some water on the stove. "It's not for me anyway. It's for that girl, Rogue."
Logan nodded. "Poor kid. She could really use it. I just hope nobody else gets this bug—"
"AAA-CHHOOOOO!" The thunderous sneeze nearly shook the house. The worst part was, it wasn't Rogue.
"Oh, brother," Logan grumbled. "Me and my big mouth. Who was that?"
"I think that was Scott," Jean said, coming in from outside. She was pleased to see that her muffins were a big hit, but winced at the thought of the cold spreading throughout the house. What if everyone got sick? Who would take care of them?
"I'll go check on him," Brenda offered. "Maybe I'll bring him some tea, too. And anyone else who needs it. Where is he?"
"Up in his room, I think. I'll show you."
The teakettle whistled cheerfully at that moment. Brenda poured out two cups of tea and put them on a tray. "Does Rogue like sugar in her tea?"
"I don't know. I don't think I've ever seen her drink tea," Jean said.
Brenda put the sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk on the tray. Then she followed Jean upstairs to Rogue's room.
The girl was in bed when they arrived. Hovering over her like a guardian angel was Kurt, who was currently in the midst of taking her temperature.
"Ach, I don't like the look of this!"
"What is it?" Brenda asked.
"Vun hundred and three," he said, showing her.
"Am I gonna die?" Rogue moaned.
"No, of course not," Brenda said. "Here's your tea."
Rogue took a cautious sip, her eyes closed. To her surprise, it was pretty good.
"Do you need more sugar?" Brenda asked.
"What? No, it's fine." She drank some more. "Matter of fact, it's the best drink I've ever had."
"I just hope it helps you get over your cold soon," Brenda told her. "I'll come back in a minute and see how you're doing."
"She'll be okay," Jean said. "Let's go check on the next batch of muffins and see if they're done."
Once they were safely outside, Brenda said, "I thought we were going to Scott's room?"
"We are. I just didn't want to worry her. She might take it personally."
Scott's room was neater than Rogue's; he had "compulsive neatnik" written all over him. Or would have, if he hadn't been tangled in the sheets, his head hanging off the edge of the bed.
"Uh, Scott . . . Scott? You awake?"
"No," he groaned, trying to get up. He sounded like he'd gone twelve rounds with Godzilla and lost miserably.
"Are you okay?" Jean asked. "I heard you sneeze a little while ago."
"I'll tell you as soon as I get my head screwed back on." Scott pushed the sheet aside and stumbled to his feet.
Jean caught him before he fell. "You are sick," she murmured, feeling his forehead. "Honey, you're burning up. Let's get you back in bed."
"I brought some tea," Brenda offered.
"Great," Scott moaned. He started coughing so hard that his shoulders shook. Jean struggled to hold him up, using her power to help her. When the coughing fit had passed, she tucked him into bed and took the tea from Brenda. "I'll take it from here. I owe him one for taking care of me last winter when I had that awful flu."
"Okay."
"Would you mind taking the muffins out of the oven for me?"
"Sure."
"Thanks."
On her way downstairs, Brenda stopped to do a quick scan.
"Scan" was what she called her tele-location power, and there were actually two types: "scan" was a generalized search of everyone in the vicinity. Because the power was so diffused, the range was limited—usually just everyone in a particular building or area about two blocks square. It depended on how many minds were concentrated in that area.
"Search," on the other hand, was used to pinpoint one particular mind, and the range on that was much greater: up to two miles. The catch was that it had to be a mind familiar to her. She couldn't find a stranger, for example, but if one of the Sisters was lost, she could find them no matter where they were.
Her scan lasted only a minute or so, just long enough to see where everyone was and what they were doing. Evan was still sleeping. Kitty had given up on the music and gone downstairs to see if breakfast was ready. Ororo was taking a walk on the grounds, and the Professor was in his room, though he wasn't asleep. He sensed her as her mind touched his, and sent a greeting her way.
When she had finished the scan, she went and took the muffins out of the oven, leaving them to cool on top of the stove. She felt like part of the family already.
There were two Catholic churches in the area: St. Catherine's, about 10 minutes away, and Our Lady of Nazareth, towards the center of town.
Brenda had expected to go to church by herself. She didn't know if anyone else went, and it had seemed impolite to inquire about something as personal as religion.
So she was understandably surprised to find herself part of a rather sizable group: Jean, Kurt, Ororo, Evan, and, believe it or not, Logan. There was a nine o'clock mass at St. Catherine's that they all attended. Kitty had offered to stay behind and take care of Scott and Rogue.
"You wanna sit up front or on the side?" Logan asked Brenda.
"Wherever you'd like." Brenda said. They found a space in the middle and made themselves comfortable.
It was a very pretty church. Lots of stained glass glittered in the windows. It reminded Brenda of the Christmas lights in town, but Christmas was still months away. She forced down a wave of homesickness and forced herself to concentrate on the Mass. That, at least, was the same as it was at home.
Up in his room, Todd was still sleeping. He'd been up for hours, unable to sleep after that awful medicine had been forced down his throat, and hadn't dropped off until almost dawn.
His dreams were full of her, the blonde girl whose name he didn't even know. He imagined himself dancing with her under the stars, on a white beach that seemed to stretch on forever . . . .
Suddenly he sat bolt upright, awakened by an urgent need to vomit. I told her, he thought. I told her that stuff would make me sick to my stomach, but she never listens!
He raced to the bathroom, only a few steps away, and clutched the edge of the sink as he heaved up the contents of his stomach.
He hadn't realized he'd left the door open until he heard a voice say, "You okay?"
"What are you doing here?" Toad asked Blob.
"Going to the bathroom. At least I was until I saw you were in here. Are you still sick?"
Todd winced as another spasm wracked his stomach. Geez, he hadn't even eaten that much yesterday. How could he have anything left?
"I think I'm gonna die," he moaned.
"You will if Ms. Darkholme catches you out late again," said Blob. "She was pretty mad, wasn't she?"
"You said it," Todd groaned. His stomach seemed to be settling down—for now—but his head felt like it was full of liquid Jello that was beginning to harden. "I feel like my head's gonna explode. Oh man, I never even got her name."
"Whose name?"
"That girl at Xavier's. She just arrived last night." The room was starting to spin around, and so were Todd's eyes. He passed out seconds later. Fred caught him before his head hit the porcelain.
"What's going on?" Mystique demanded.
"I think he's still sick," Blob answered, carrying the unconscious boy back to his room. "Oh, he said there's a new girl at Xavier's school."
"Is there?" Mystique seemed interested in this bit of news. "When did she get there?"
"Last night." They put Toad back in his bed. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face as they adjusted the top sheet.
"Do you think he's gonna be okay?" Blob asked Mystique.
"Just let him sleep for now," she said. "We have a great deal to accomplish in the meantime."
Sunday afternoon was rather quiet, both at Xavier's school and at the Brotherhood's house.
Brenda took the time to put another pot of tea on, and then she settled in with a book.
She was nearly at her favorite part when she felt Professor
Xavier's summons in the back of her mind: Brenda, I need to see you in my
office right away. We need to talk about school tomorrow.
What about it?
There are . . . certain things you have to know.
She reached the office, went in, and shut the door behind her.
"Please sit down."
"What is this all about?" Brenda asked.
"I know you've never been to public school before. Like any other microcosm of society, there are all kinds of people there. Some nice . . . and some who aren't so nice."
"Yes, Jean and Kitty told me there were some real jerks."
"There are those, but that's not what I'm talking about." He slid a photograph across the desk to her. "We have enemies. Mutants, like ourselves, who have chosen to follow a darker path."
"And they go to school with us?"
He told her everything—including that the principal of the school she would be attending in the morning was a mutant, a shape-changer called Mystique. "The others already know all this. I'll tell you what I've told them: you are not to use your powers at school, unless there's an emergency and there's no other way. And you are not to allow these students—" He tapped the photograph of four boys in shabby street clothes—"to goad you into a fight on school grounds. Remember to always take the high road when dealing with others. Treat them with respect, even if they don't seem to deserve it."
Brenda looked at the photograph, memorizing the faces of her so-called enemies. She didn't understand the reasoning behind what she had been told, but she had been brought up to respect her elders, and she would obey. She would steer clear of these troublemakers as best she could.