Feedback is better than chocolate, hint hint. Shameless plug I made my very own lil corner of the web for my story and it's got purdy pictures on it – http://www.angelfire.com/art2/xandriaclay =0)

Rated PG-13 because there's a few swear words and my new mutant's a little prejudiced against Americans, it might offend some people.

Disclaimer: The X-men aren't mine.

I always wanted to be a rebel.

I always wanted to be one of those girls who didn't care what people thought of her, the one with the nose rings and tongue piercing, who did exactly the opposite of what her parents told her because they were strict and unfair and she wanted to party. I always wanted to defy conformity and challenge society's expectations.

But I never did. Why? I didn't have anything to rebel against. I didn't want my tongue pierced; I'm a chocoholic, it'd destroy my taste buds, I'd loose all pleasure in consuming the very substance that keeps me alive! My parents weren't strict, my mum was my best friend; I didn't want her to worry about me. I called her every few hours if I was out to tell her I hadn't yet been raped and pillaged, but that there were some promising looking construction workers up the road, and I'd call her later if she had a grandchild on the way. I was allowed to 'party' as long as I told 'em where I was. And defying conformity, well...the only conformity I witnessed in London, in a democratic nation, was fashion. And I like clothes (ones that aren't ripped and torn and hang off me like a sack of potatoes; I've got hips. I'll bloody well use 'em.) Society expected me to be polite, to respect my elders, to go to school and get good grades, all of which I planned to do anyway so there wasn't much point in challenging those views, now was there?

But now, I was rebelling. Hell, this was dramatic. They wanted to send me to some high society prep school for mutated youngsters? Let 'em. But I was gonna sit on the roof till they sent me home. Roof?

Yup. Ya see, I've been blessed with the power to float aimlessly in the wind like an old paper bag, I imagine I could whip into peoples faces and toss myself against the walls of an alley if I put my mind to it. I'd spent two days lighter than air, being tossed around right over the Thames in the not-so-warm-but-warmer-than-regular-air currents as if caught in a rip tide before Xavier came to collect me. God knows how many times I flashed the unsuspecting public below - wearing a summer dress had been a baaad idea that day. Anyway, Xavier finally decided to show up, and told me how to get myself out of my predicament. The dude has some power in his bald lil head that allows him to speak directly into other people's minds. (I'm really more respectful to my elders, but I'm being rebellious now, remember?) He told me to think of weight, to imagine I was carrying barbells and strapped to huge sacks of sand or the like. I thought of being stuck in the Fat Bastard suit from Austin Powers, it worked. I was lucky enough to be floating over a bridge at the time, my dress would've become see through had I gotten drenched in the stinking, polluted river water.

Next I knew I was being flown out to America. Nope, not Disney, some place in New York. Not even the cool New York with the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building, Xavier's was a mansion in Westchester.  Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Oh yeah, bub, gifted. As in horrendously mutated at birth to be born with the extraordinary powers to save the world! Or not. I dunno really, I haven't met any of the other pupils yet. It'd be cool though, eh?

My parents left the morning of Wednesday, August 5th after arriving only Tuesday at noon. We'd stayed in a hotel for the night because I refused to go in the mansion. I didn't want to stay there alone. I had no friends at Westchester, and hadn't been able to say goodbye to my old ones. I hadn't had time to say goodbye to extended family! I'd packed my clothes, and various miscellanies from my room, but no posters or furniture. My room was my room, I felt lost without a place to call my own. And apart from material items and people I'd probably keep in touch with through e-mail so the relationships wouldn't be lost, I was more worried about the fact that I'd never been away from my Mum for more than a fortnight. I'd spent two weeks in France with a friend and her family, but that was all! How could I be away from her until Christmas?! That possibility alone made me break down, I was crying so hard I thought I might be sick. I wanted my Mum; I had this weird ache inside. I couldn't go crying to Xavier when I needed a hug, he was too proper. He was a nice guy, I hate to admit because I DON'T want to live with him, but he had kind eyes and wanted to help me..

 I just couldn't imagine him comforting me when I cried.

The wind blew at me peacefully; it was hard to stay angry. Maybe I'd drop the facade, as I was alone, until they came to make me go to class, or just inside the house. It was easier to forget for a while and inhale the cool breeze and gaze at the moon: a dancing orb on a midnight blue backdrop of twinkling stars and endless sky. There was a lake not too far off, with a small dock and boathouse. The moon reflected off gently rippling water dreamily; it was almost surreal. This was definitely my favorite place at Westchester, and I hadn't even been inside yet!

A sudden cloud of fog swept over my romantic daydream and left me sitting in near-complete darkness on the cold tiles of the estate's roof. Overhead, I could hear a plane approaching; there was an airport nearby? The airports in London were on the outskirts of the town; the only planes I heard were tiny and far off. This one was quickly coming closer. I wished the fog would clear so I could see it - then suddenly my wish came true.

It was almost like something from a nightmare. You're wondering around in pitch black darkness, your eyes searching for any sign of light and that monster, or axe murderer you know is stalking you, then you turn and it's eyes are glinting back at you, an inch from your nose. A gigantic plane, black with a pointed nose, was staring me in the face, like a great hornet waiting to sting. I hadn't heard the basketball court open to reveal the hidden hangar below it, yet this was the plane's destination. It was gently landing, and I watched it's decent. It looked like one of those fancy stealth planes they use in spy movies. I could hear the engines whirring and gradually winding down as the landing gear touched the hangar's base. The basketball court gently closed in after it, and in a matter of minutes, my romantic scene reappeared as if nothing had happened.

Guess there's more to Xavier's little institute that I thought..

~

Two hours after the plane, and four from when I'd first fled to the roof, I'd started once again to cry my eyes out. It was cold, and the calm wind that had been blowing before had turned harsh and bit at my exposed arms and face. I really would've gone inside, had it not been three a.m.  But I didn't know where my room was, or where my luggage had gone, and surely anyone who did know would be fast asleep. This assumption made me jump even more violently when a man's voice spoke from behind me.

"Were you planning on coming down anytime soon? I agree, it's nice up here, but it's getting colder by the second and there's a bed waiting for you in the house."

I spun around on my bottom to face the intruder. I couldn't see his face well enough to tell what he looked like, but the moonlight reflecting off his body told me he was leaning casually against the chimney nearby. It seemed as if he'd been there awhile, but I hadn't heard him approach or sensed his presence. I couldn't even see a way for him to reach me without flying as I had. But then, considering where I was, that was quite possible." I thought everyone was asleep." I muttered, embarrassed, wiping at the tears on my cheeks. My mascara must be halfway down my neck by now.

"Well, I'm not." He replied. No shit, Sherlock. "You'll come down then?"

"I guess."

He stood with a tired groan and came a few steps closer to where I sat, and offered his hand. "Can you get down the way you came up? Or do you need help?"

"I don't need help." I said, bloody Americans, they're all so arrogant. I stood, without his help, and faced him head on. He wasn't much taller than me! Haha, shrimp. He was broader though, and younger than I thought he'd be. Late twenties at the oldest. "How are you gonna get down? I'd be willing to give you a push."

He chuckled, bastard. "Cold makes me irritable too." That made me angry, I wasn't irritable! He was just being patronizing. "Go on down, I'll see you on the ground." And he nudged my back gently.

Fighting the urge to smack him one, I gradually imagined myself lighter, half weightless and went to the roof's edge and peered down. Down...hard asphalt. About 4 stories up.. Christ! It was a long way down! My vision lurched and went blurry at the edges, the height seemed to double and my vision tunneled. I could feel my knees giving way beneath me and bile rising in my throat. My stomach did flip-flops. I felt like I was spinning, swaying gently forwards. I was going to fall! My hands refused to help me gain my balance and my heels were lifting off the tiles to tilt me precariously forward...the height tripled..my head spun madly...

Arms wrapped around my waist and spun me around; suddenly I was looking to a pair of startlingly blue eyes. I leant into the man supporting me because my legs were too shaky to hold me, even half weightless, and I gripped his shoulders.  I clutched at the blue cotton of his shirt. My stomach was still flipping like a pancake and my world was still tipping at odd angles. I could feel tremors running up and down my spine.

"Angela. Angela, you're okay. I've got you." Comforting words found their way into my ear and through my confused brain. "Look at me, you're okay, concentrate on my face."

I pulled back a bit so I could focus on those eyes. They were slightly canted with visible eyelids. Icy blue and hard, they might've seemed emotionless, but his furrowed brow and the way he looked at me so intently proved otherwise. His irises were flicked with aquamarine at the edges, but a much deeper, royal blue in the center. Beautiful.

"Angela." His voice called me back to the present; I shook my head to refocus my eyes and looked at his whole face instead of just his eyes.

Holy Jesus he was cute.

"Hi." I squeaked. I could feel sweat appearing on my nose and upper lip, and under my arms. I hoped he put it down to my fear, not the fact that I was looking into the face of some Greek God or other, and being held in his arms. High cheekbones and dark brown hair that flopped slightly over his forehead, I was melting. "Thanks."

"Sure, but we still have to get down, there isn't a doorway or anything - "

"Nuh - uh, no way, I can't, you just saw I can't." I was protesting before he could finish his sentence. He looked older and more authorative in a second, like a teacher, and placed a finger over my lips.

"I'll carry you down, okay? Just make yourself light, I can't carry the both of us."

Oh that hurt. He didn't mean it that way, but I was sensitive about my weight. Being 5'9 at seventeen did that to you. I wasn't fat but I was big, my arms were a little less that muscular, and I had a U of fat around my belly button that refused to be dieted off. Either way, I did as he asked and gripped his shoulders to keep from floating away. We were moving forwards..closer..closer..he stepped off the roof. "Oh shit. Oh shit." I chanted, sweating out of fear now. My hands were clammy and hot as I clenched onto his shirt.

"Angela, calm down." Voice terse, he chided me. I unclenched my fists a little, realizing I'd been pinching his skin. His arms circles my back and waist and he held me to him as he gently flew us down the side of the building. "You're fine, I've got you." His voice was soothing in my ear. I closed my eyes and concentrated on his voice, willing my heart to slow down a little. I liked the feel of being in his arms; I'd never had a boyfriend before. Just being held seemed nicer than kissing. A cool breeze cooled the perspiration on my nose and forehead. The night was peaceful. I felt a lot better; it was quite nice to have my feet dangling above the ground. I was usually too tall to do that.

Then I did the thing they ALWAYS tell you not to do -- I looked down. Curiosity killed the girl and I wanted to see how far we had to go.

Too far.

"Oohh Goodd.." Jeez I sounded like a man when I warbled that, my voice went low and cracked. We were still at least two flights up. My heart rate raced again and my face went too hot to feel the night air. I started trying to crawl up him like a ladder or slippery slope, completely loosing the control of my body to panic.

"Hey! Hey now, I told ya not to do that." He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him, holding me tighter so he wouldn't drop me as I squirmed.

I forced myself to breathe and stopped moving.

"We're almost there. Almost on the ground." He kept talking to me constantly and I focused on regulating my breathing. Down..down..the wind made my hair stir around my face.

I felt my feet touch the asphalt, toes first; we'd finally made it! Good, solid, ground, I wanted to kiss it. His arms unwrapped themselves and came to grasp my upper arms. "See, no problem. You okay?" He asked, bending slightly to look in my eyes. He was only about two inches taller than me. Aw..

"Yeah, yeah..I'm okay." I said, but my knees were wobbling and my stomach was still churning.

"Good." He smiled, but he looked exhausted and pale. "Let's go inside. Get you a room." He let go of my left arm and started to turn.

Then I puked all over his shirt.