"So tell me Elizabeth, how was your first day of school?" Ms. Braddock
asked.
"Interesting," Betsy said into the telephone. "It was interesting."
Mrs. Braddock seemed slightly discouraged at the lack of enthusiasm in her adoptive daughter's voice. "Oh. Well you know that your father and I will be coming to the States to visit you for the weekend so.that'll be nice."
"Mmm hmmm.'
"You know," Mrs. Braddock continued, "we'll finally be able to talk in person."
"Thrilled," Betsy said.
"Are you?"
Betsy paused. "Well, I just wish that you and dad were here more often."
Mrs. Braddock sighed. "Did anyone at school give you trouble about your marking?" she asked, tactfully changing the subject.
"They thought it was weird and the principal didn't like it too much but nothing too bad. I still don't see why I had to leave my old school."
"Yes you do. You just don't want to accept it. Now listen Elizabeth, I have to go now so.see you this weekend."
"Bye." Betsy clicked the phone off, placed it onto the receiver, and did a double backflip off the large bed without breaking a sweat. She examined herself in the mirror, checking to see if her hair was combed or if she had a smudge on her face as her mother had trained her to.
Most people were surprised that this lovely, Asian girl with a red symbol running down her left eye had a name like Elizabeth Braddock.
She was adopted though and had been ever since the age of five, beyond which she could not remember. Ever since she could remember though, that mysterious tattoo had been on her face. It couldn't be removed, of that she was sure but as to who had given it to her, she did not know.
She started her daily workout with a rigorous round of powerful, yet controlled kicks, each one making a whistling sound as it sliced through the air. Most other martial artists made strange sounds like heiyyyy-yaaaa when they performed a move but Betsy had no need for such distraction.
Once she was through with her kicking routine, she practiced her punches and then afterwards, combined the two. With every strike, she imagined she was hitting a mental adversary and then countered her imaginary foe's attacks.
The instant the clock on her study desk registered 7:00, she dropped down onto a sitting position for meditation, becoming oblivious to her surroundings.
Normally after she was through with her half hour meditation period Betsy would go through an unrelenting physical workout but she didn't feel like it today. For now, she was simply content to sit there on the floor, meditating.
"I saw that girl you were talking about," Jean told Scott as they jogged around the Westchester mansion's indoor track for their daily required exercise.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Her name's Elizabeth Braddock and she's filthy rich.
"Really?"
"Yeah. And you know, she just might be a telepath. I did a mindscan to see if she was telepathic and her mind was unreadable. Actually, it was like hitting a brick wall."
"You thinking potential recruit?"
"Nah, she seems like she's got an attitude problem."
"I dunno. Rogue had an attitude problem and she turned out OK."
"Good point." Jean turned her eyes to the track. "15 miles seems enough today. Don't you think?"
"Sure, why not." Scott jogged off the track and to the bleachers, wiping his face off with a towel. "I was going to talk to the professor about it."
"Elizabeth?"
"I think its Betsy, actually." Scott corrected.
"Whatever." Jean plopped down on the bleachers, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. "Oh, I think Kitty wants you to try out her new rolls ."
"Is that a warning?"
"Lets just say." Jean chuckled, standing up, "she gave me one and I find it makes a better paperweight than a food." She picked up her towel and began to walk towards the exit. "See ya Scott."
"Yeah, see ya." Scott watched her all the way to the door.
A/N Short, I know but still review
"Interesting," Betsy said into the telephone. "It was interesting."
Mrs. Braddock seemed slightly discouraged at the lack of enthusiasm in her adoptive daughter's voice. "Oh. Well you know that your father and I will be coming to the States to visit you for the weekend so.that'll be nice."
"Mmm hmmm.'
"You know," Mrs. Braddock continued, "we'll finally be able to talk in person."
"Thrilled," Betsy said.
"Are you?"
Betsy paused. "Well, I just wish that you and dad were here more often."
Mrs. Braddock sighed. "Did anyone at school give you trouble about your marking?" she asked, tactfully changing the subject.
"They thought it was weird and the principal didn't like it too much but nothing too bad. I still don't see why I had to leave my old school."
"Yes you do. You just don't want to accept it. Now listen Elizabeth, I have to go now so.see you this weekend."
"Bye." Betsy clicked the phone off, placed it onto the receiver, and did a double backflip off the large bed without breaking a sweat. She examined herself in the mirror, checking to see if her hair was combed or if she had a smudge on her face as her mother had trained her to.
Most people were surprised that this lovely, Asian girl with a red symbol running down her left eye had a name like Elizabeth Braddock.
She was adopted though and had been ever since the age of five, beyond which she could not remember. Ever since she could remember though, that mysterious tattoo had been on her face. It couldn't be removed, of that she was sure but as to who had given it to her, she did not know.
She started her daily workout with a rigorous round of powerful, yet controlled kicks, each one making a whistling sound as it sliced through the air. Most other martial artists made strange sounds like heiyyyy-yaaaa when they performed a move but Betsy had no need for such distraction.
Once she was through with her kicking routine, she practiced her punches and then afterwards, combined the two. With every strike, she imagined she was hitting a mental adversary and then countered her imaginary foe's attacks.
The instant the clock on her study desk registered 7:00, she dropped down onto a sitting position for meditation, becoming oblivious to her surroundings.
Normally after she was through with her half hour meditation period Betsy would go through an unrelenting physical workout but she didn't feel like it today. For now, she was simply content to sit there on the floor, meditating.
"I saw that girl you were talking about," Jean told Scott as they jogged around the Westchester mansion's indoor track for their daily required exercise.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Her name's Elizabeth Braddock and she's filthy rich.
"Really?"
"Yeah. And you know, she just might be a telepath. I did a mindscan to see if she was telepathic and her mind was unreadable. Actually, it was like hitting a brick wall."
"You thinking potential recruit?"
"Nah, she seems like she's got an attitude problem."
"I dunno. Rogue had an attitude problem and she turned out OK."
"Good point." Jean turned her eyes to the track. "15 miles seems enough today. Don't you think?"
"Sure, why not." Scott jogged off the track and to the bleachers, wiping his face off with a towel. "I was going to talk to the professor about it."
"Elizabeth?"
"I think its Betsy, actually." Scott corrected.
"Whatever." Jean plopped down on the bleachers, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. "Oh, I think Kitty wants you to try out her new rolls ."
"Is that a warning?"
"Lets just say." Jean chuckled, standing up, "she gave me one and I find it makes a better paperweight than a food." She picked up her towel and began to walk towards the exit. "See ya Scott."
"Yeah, see ya." Scott watched her all the way to the door.
A/N Short, I know but still review