---Two Poe Notes---
Kurt's written accent doesn't apply when he is actually speaking German (you know, how I've been changing the w's to v's and a's to o's where it applies, etc.). That's because I wished to spell everything correctly. Get used to it. (That means he is going to speak a lot of German- but everything will be directly translated in parenthesis or explained in the story.)
The last seventeen chapters were the to this story. This is where the plot actually begins, now that you know who Sara is and what her predicaments are. It'll start to get into more action now. Much more.
On with the story!
To Tell One Lie
by Poe's Raven
Mamma! Jean hat mich herauf alle Nacht mit ihrem Schreien gehalten! Sie hat diese jede Nacht für zwei Wochen getan! Ich habe absolut keine Idee was zu tun. Ich werde schlafen, wenn Sie kommen zu besuchen, wenn sie nicht stoppt.
I knew I shouldn't have been listening to Kurt's conversation with his mother, but I wanted to find out what was wrong. It's already been a week at the Institute, and I'd noticed that he was falling asleep at the breakfast table; this morning he had taken his food and everything, and hen fell asleep right into his plate!
I didn't realize that Jean's room was right next to his until I decided to do the eavesdropping, as I had to make an Ille of the wall around me when she went storming out of her room- even though it was 3:26 AM on a Tuesday. Being able to make myself invisible through Ille was becoming very useful, especially since I usually slept only about five hours a night- and getting up at 2 AM and reading in bed to the sounds of a snoring Jubilee was not my idea of fun. Sure, she was an awesome friend, but who wants to have an accompaniment when they're trying to get into Prisoner of Azkaban?
I would have asked if I could switch rooms, too, if it wasn't for what I'd just heard from Kurt. He was whining to his mother that Jean was keeping him up all night- but with... crying? Jean Grey, a.k.a. Miss Perfection, crying? Well, she did look like something had streamed down her cheeks as she passed...
I heard the click of the receiver and then the a sound I became familiar to- the BAMF of his teleporting. I heard the familiar noise again seconds later, farther away... in the kitchen.
I laughed privately. Kurt's life existence depended on food. We all know that whenever he's ticked off about something he heads for the kitchen- but the last few days he's been asking around why he's been finding fresh peanut butter, Nutella, and banana sandwiches (his favorite) in the fridge for him. I wonder who's been doing that? Especially since I happen to take one to lunch with me out to the institute's pool every day.
I am going down there, I mumbled to myself, as I ran back to my room to pick up a little secret weapon that extracts answers from everyone. For the three years previous when I baby-sat, even for the older kids, IT WORKED MIRACLES. Kurt wouldn't stand a chance...
Heh, heh, heh.
Kurt was one oblivious sixteen year old. Only nine months older than me, and six older than Kitty Pryde, who would (Aack!) get her licensee in September, he still acted ten years younger than he was, munching on the sandwich that he, yet again, mysteriously found' in the fridge. Creeping in, still with Ille wrapped tightly around me like a winter scarf, I started to work. I also learned in the past two weeks that I could not only make Ille make sound as I had done previously, but I could also make it's opposite.
And since it was 3:37 AM and I needed the blender, this power was a godsend. Unfortunately, though, I had to work quickly, because I also learned, the hard way (I tried to use a force field' to make myself fly), that i could keep up my force fields' and sounds' for a matter of a minute twenty- one seconds at a time (that was my most recent record) but my images I could hold for about an hour before the throbbing headaches set in. So as I ran the blender at thirty- second intervals, I poured the entire remaining contents of the squeeze bottle into it (which was now only down to about a teaspoon's worth), as well as three scoops of vanilla ice cream, cinnamon, chocolate shards, and chocolate milk. The contents of the squeeze bottle were the pride and joy of my life's work so far experimenting with all that is sweet, however. No, it was no truth potion, or anything magical, for that matter, but it was INCREDIBLY good homemade chocolate syrup. I had to keep it in my room only because it was very concentrated- I did not want someone accidentally drinking it straight ot of the bottle by accident- especially since I kept the stuff in washed out Yoo-Hoo containers. After my last blender interval, I poured most of the contents out into two giant mugs, shook up some whipped cream, and topped both with that and the normal Hershey's syrup stuff. I finished off by slicing another banana and making two more P-BB-N sandwiches.
All the while, I kept watch to see if I was noticed. The entire time, though, Kurt was oblivious! Even when he'd finished the sandwich, he sort of just sat there, twitching his tail. I think he was attempting to fall back to sleep away from Jean, but the moment I opened the Nutella bottle he shot up like a cannon and started sniffing the air.
I dropped my Ille, relived anyway because my head was starting to throb again.
So YOU'VE been leaving me those sandviches, Kurt said, a little shocked. I thought it vas Kitty-
Both of us turned, seeing her in the doorway. Can I join the midnight club, too?
Uh, sure, I said. Pointing to what was left in the blender, I added, Want some, too?
No meat? she asked.
Unless you consider ice cream to be against your religion, no.
I'm , like, so not a vegan. You, like, can't even take some medicines.
I poured the rest of the drink into another mug, adding whipped cream and Hershey's, then finished making the sandwiches, adding one more.
The three of us sat down and I passed a sandwich to each of them. Kitty looked at hers awkwardly for a few moments, took a small corner bite, then wolfed the entire thing down. I didn't pass the mugs yet, I was waiting for the aroma of it to fill the room. As Kurt slowly munched on his P-BB-N, I noticed that besides him sniffing the air at the smell of the drinks, he acted completely different at night, much... quieter.
Vas es das? he asked, jabbing his thumb at the mugs.
A Bribe, I replied simply, meaning both the drink's name and it's use. I'll give you one if you tell me why Jean's crying has been keeping you up at night.
I vould have told you anyvay. I vas going to ask you for advice at breakfast, but... HEY! Vere you listening to my phone conversation vith my muther?!?
Kitty laughed. I heard it, too. I went onto Dictionary.com on my laptop as you were talking for a translation. That's why I came down.
Do I have to learn Svahili to keep you people from listening in? he asked, but he was smiling again.
The only reason I did was because of your odd shift in sleeping patterns, I said. I understand making calls at night to Germany so that your family can receive them at a considerable time, but...
You wouldn't be THAT grumpy with talking to them unless they, like, rented out your room back home! Kitty finished for me. Kurt, your our friend, and we care. I know you try to be all macho about it, but...
Thank you for caring, he said. But I don't knou anything about vy Jean's been crying. She doesn't come up to me and say, Oh, sorry for keeping you up Kurt, but I've been vhyning because...'
Then, let Operation Save Kurt's Sleep' begin! I said, as I got up and passed out Bribes to two of my best mutant friends.
