Notes: Sorry about the shortness of the last chapter; I got distracted. They should be longer from now on. ^^ As always, read and review. Even if it's a flame. Of course, if it's a flame, that's the same as giving me written permission to post it on the site, ridicule you with my friends and point and laugh as you go by on the street, "That's the loser who flamed me! I'm making fun of him/her now! Haha!" Hehe. ^_^ Constructive criticism is best.
More Notes: I got 4 more reviews in the time that I was typing this, so....^_^ thanks for the reviews, intriKate, indigo, and KS-fan! As for KS-fan's request for Wolverine, it comes very soon. ^_^ I too love Wolverine. *points to huge stacks of Wolverine back issues* Now, on with the story!
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Chapter V: The Next Morning
The next morning I awoke in a rather painful position: I had apparently tossed and turned so much that I was now on my belly, wings spread over the sides, and my leg poking out through the protective railing of the bed. If only I slept that good now...
I tried to go back to sleep after freeing my leg from the bed, but to no avail. Mr. Sun shined his happy happy rays through the window and told me that 9:30 was an appropriate time to wake. I don't even wake up til 10:30 at home...This is why I say Mr. Sun has lost his marbles. I managed to pull myself up in the bed, slowly as to not split my seams (again) and because I was still half asleep, not to mention the extra dead weight on my back wasn't helping anything. I rubbed the sleep out of my good eye, then rubbed my bad eye because it itched like mad.
Mrs. Grey-Springs or Summers or Winters or something came in and helped me get dressed: an over-sized grey sweatshirt (which hung loosely off me, but was approriate because it had holes in the back for my wings; I later learned it was borrowed from a fellow winged person) and a pair of jeans that was a size too big. She found my glasses for me too, but I decided against wearing them because Dr. McCoy had told me my eyes would be very sensitive to light. I opted for my purple shades instead.
Her husband came in and helped me into a wheelchair, then wheeled me out of the infirmary. I got some stares from the residents of the school, but not too many, which helped me feel a little better. Maybe this place isn't so bad, I had thought. That was another one of my great understatements.
Anyways, the red-head and the shades guy made small-talk as they wheeled me out. I wasn't paying much attention then, I was gawking at the rather large estate. I rubbed my eye as I was wheeled out to the front. Mrs. Grey-What's-The-Other-Name put her hand over my fist gently. "Rubbing'll only make it worse, Madison." So I stopped. For 20 secods. Then I rubbed again. It really itched, and it was starting to sting now from rubbing it so hard.
She just sighed as a taxi drove up. Rub rub rub. Mr. What's-His-Last Name went over to the taxi and helped unload the bags (which I recognized at the luggage belonging to my mother), boxes and other stuff from the Magic-Taxi-That-Can-Hold-Lotsa-Swag.
"Is that my mom," I asked the lady. It was obvious, but I hadda ask anyways. She smiled at me warmly and nodded. She pushed me towards the taxi as I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the sun, shortly before being smothering by someone sobbing extremely loudly. I am still embarassed to this day (I love my Mother but hey, she didn't need to CRY).
I tried to tell her I couldn't breathe, but she was still too busy smothering me. My face turned red as I protested. "Mom, you're making a scene," I whispered.
She sniffled. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I was so worried about you," she said, cupping my face in her hands. "And now you're going to be boarding so far away," she continued. Actually, Ohio is right underneath New York, if I'm correct (but then again, I failed geography too). I didn't say that to her though; I understood what she was feeling. I decided that bringing up those few choice words would be, at that moment, not good. So I didn't say them, I hadn't the heart.
I hugged her back, wincing when she hugged too tight. "Sorry, honey," sniffle. "They told me about your stitches, but I guess I forgot." I wish I could have forgotten too. I rubbed my eye and she went through the usual mom stuff: change your underwear every day, don't talk to strangers, eat right, stay healthy, no kissing, smoking, drinking and/or substance abuse. Mind is wandering, mom, I had thought. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue as she talked to Mrs. Grey-Summers (haha I remembered then).
I knew this would be harder on her than it would be on me, cause I was the only one she had left. Tom moved out some time ago, and Dad had been killed a few years back. I miss him alot, even now...
I won't bore you with the rest of the good-byes, but here's what basically happened: Mom cried, and cried, and cried some more, then got back in the taxi to go to the airport. I made a mental note to call her the next day and check up on her. After she left, a bunch of guys came from inside to carry my stuff upstairs, including Mr. Wagner, Mr. Bob and a guy with a French accent...but he moved too fast for me to say anything to him. Must be his powers.
Mr. Summers wheeled me back into the Instiute, noting the rooms as we passed them. He took me to the stairs and carried me up (though I wish he had asked first, I'm not comfortable with men touching me, even if he WAS married). I was set back in the wheelchair, then told the rules of the girls' wing.
"No boys allowed in the girls' wing. Curfew's at 10 o'clock, lights out at 11. No boys. You will have a roommate as soon as she arrives, so be considerate of her feelings. No boys," he re-iterated, as if I could GET a boy to follow em back to my room. As if I wanted to... "Are we clear?"
"Very, Mr. Summers," I said. I would have said crystal, but I thought it was too hokey, even for me. Yes, even for me. He turned the knob to a door that said 'B-7'. There was a band called the B-15s once. Not that that has anything to do with this...
The room was neat and tidty; there were two beds, one by a window, and one near the door. Both were made, and had nice, clean sheets on them. If I was going to be living here, this owuld not last long. Maybe a week. MAYBE. There were two dressers, and on the other side of the door there was a stand with a TV on it. Nice. Upon closer inspection, after he wheeled me into the room, it was found that there was a DVD player as well. Score!
The boxes with what I had assumed were my belongings were stacked up in the corner near the first bed. Mr. Summers helped me to the bed, "Stop rubbing your eye."
Which I had been doing since before my mom left, about 15 minutes ago. "It itches," I explained. "You'll make it worse," he argued. "But, it itches!" I could tell we wouldn't be getting along too well. Hey that rhymes! ....Ya got any dimes?
.....Ok ok, I'll stop now.
Anyways, he gave me a Look that said 'I'll be watching you, don't rub your eye', and then left, telling me he'd send someone in to help me. I shimmied across the bed and pulled a box into my lap marked 'posters'. Posters are always the first to go up. S'a rule, ya know. I went the box and found a lil box of tacks (moms think of everything, don't they?) then, thinking I could stand, proceeded to do so.
Then I fell flat on my face.
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Disclaimer: THE X-MEN DO NOT BELONG TO ME, I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN THEM, THEY BELONG TO MARVEL. Had to get that in there so Marvel wouldn't sue me. Not like I've got any money anyways. ^^;; All the original characters belong to me (Frostbite, Negativity, Rift, Inferno, etc) and you can't use them unless you ask me first. So there. (AishiyuriiKomojo@neo.rr.com)
More Notes: I got 4 more reviews in the time that I was typing this, so....^_^ thanks for the reviews, intriKate, indigo, and KS-fan! As for KS-fan's request for Wolverine, it comes very soon. ^_^ I too love Wolverine. *points to huge stacks of Wolverine back issues* Now, on with the story!
------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter V: The Next Morning
The next morning I awoke in a rather painful position: I had apparently tossed and turned so much that I was now on my belly, wings spread over the sides, and my leg poking out through the protective railing of the bed. If only I slept that good now...
I tried to go back to sleep after freeing my leg from the bed, but to no avail. Mr. Sun shined his happy happy rays through the window and told me that 9:30 was an appropriate time to wake. I don't even wake up til 10:30 at home...This is why I say Mr. Sun has lost his marbles. I managed to pull myself up in the bed, slowly as to not split my seams (again) and because I was still half asleep, not to mention the extra dead weight on my back wasn't helping anything. I rubbed the sleep out of my good eye, then rubbed my bad eye because it itched like mad.
Mrs. Grey-Springs or Summers or Winters or something came in and helped me get dressed: an over-sized grey sweatshirt (which hung loosely off me, but was approriate because it had holes in the back for my wings; I later learned it was borrowed from a fellow winged person) and a pair of jeans that was a size too big. She found my glasses for me too, but I decided against wearing them because Dr. McCoy had told me my eyes would be very sensitive to light. I opted for my purple shades instead.
Her husband came in and helped me into a wheelchair, then wheeled me out of the infirmary. I got some stares from the residents of the school, but not too many, which helped me feel a little better. Maybe this place isn't so bad, I had thought. That was another one of my great understatements.
Anyways, the red-head and the shades guy made small-talk as they wheeled me out. I wasn't paying much attention then, I was gawking at the rather large estate. I rubbed my eye as I was wheeled out to the front. Mrs. Grey-What's-The-Other-Name put her hand over my fist gently. "Rubbing'll only make it worse, Madison." So I stopped. For 20 secods. Then I rubbed again. It really itched, and it was starting to sting now from rubbing it so hard.
She just sighed as a taxi drove up. Rub rub rub. Mr. What's-His-Last Name went over to the taxi and helped unload the bags (which I recognized at the luggage belonging to my mother), boxes and other stuff from the Magic-Taxi-That-Can-Hold-Lotsa-Swag.
"Is that my mom," I asked the lady. It was obvious, but I hadda ask anyways. She smiled at me warmly and nodded. She pushed me towards the taxi as I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the sun, shortly before being smothering by someone sobbing extremely loudly. I am still embarassed to this day (I love my Mother but hey, she didn't need to CRY).
I tried to tell her I couldn't breathe, but she was still too busy smothering me. My face turned red as I protested. "Mom, you're making a scene," I whispered.
She sniffled. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I was so worried about you," she said, cupping my face in her hands. "And now you're going to be boarding so far away," she continued. Actually, Ohio is right underneath New York, if I'm correct (but then again, I failed geography too). I didn't say that to her though; I understood what she was feeling. I decided that bringing up those few choice words would be, at that moment, not good. So I didn't say them, I hadn't the heart.
I hugged her back, wincing when she hugged too tight. "Sorry, honey," sniffle. "They told me about your stitches, but I guess I forgot." I wish I could have forgotten too. I rubbed my eye and she went through the usual mom stuff: change your underwear every day, don't talk to strangers, eat right, stay healthy, no kissing, smoking, drinking and/or substance abuse. Mind is wandering, mom, I had thought. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue as she talked to Mrs. Grey-Summers (haha I remembered then).
I knew this would be harder on her than it would be on me, cause I was the only one she had left. Tom moved out some time ago, and Dad had been killed a few years back. I miss him alot, even now...
I won't bore you with the rest of the good-byes, but here's what basically happened: Mom cried, and cried, and cried some more, then got back in the taxi to go to the airport. I made a mental note to call her the next day and check up on her. After she left, a bunch of guys came from inside to carry my stuff upstairs, including Mr. Wagner, Mr. Bob and a guy with a French accent...but he moved too fast for me to say anything to him. Must be his powers.
Mr. Summers wheeled me back into the Instiute, noting the rooms as we passed them. He took me to the stairs and carried me up (though I wish he had asked first, I'm not comfortable with men touching me, even if he WAS married). I was set back in the wheelchair, then told the rules of the girls' wing.
"No boys allowed in the girls' wing. Curfew's at 10 o'clock, lights out at 11. No boys. You will have a roommate as soon as she arrives, so be considerate of her feelings. No boys," he re-iterated, as if I could GET a boy to follow em back to my room. As if I wanted to... "Are we clear?"
"Very, Mr. Summers," I said. I would have said crystal, but I thought it was too hokey, even for me. Yes, even for me. He turned the knob to a door that said 'B-7'. There was a band called the B-15s once. Not that that has anything to do with this...
The room was neat and tidty; there were two beds, one by a window, and one near the door. Both were made, and had nice, clean sheets on them. If I was going to be living here, this owuld not last long. Maybe a week. MAYBE. There were two dressers, and on the other side of the door there was a stand with a TV on it. Nice. Upon closer inspection, after he wheeled me into the room, it was found that there was a DVD player as well. Score!
The boxes with what I had assumed were my belongings were stacked up in the corner near the first bed. Mr. Summers helped me to the bed, "Stop rubbing your eye."
Which I had been doing since before my mom left, about 15 minutes ago. "It itches," I explained. "You'll make it worse," he argued. "But, it itches!" I could tell we wouldn't be getting along too well. Hey that rhymes! ....Ya got any dimes?
.....Ok ok, I'll stop now.
Anyways, he gave me a Look that said 'I'll be watching you, don't rub your eye', and then left, telling me he'd send someone in to help me. I shimmied across the bed and pulled a box into my lap marked 'posters'. Posters are always the first to go up. S'a rule, ya know. I went the box and found a lil box of tacks (moms think of everything, don't they?) then, thinking I could stand, proceeded to do so.
Then I fell flat on my face.
------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer: THE X-MEN DO NOT BELONG TO ME, I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN THEM, THEY BELONG TO MARVEL. Had to get that in there so Marvel wouldn't sue me. Not like I've got any money anyways. ^^;; All the original characters belong to me (Frostbite, Negativity, Rift, Inferno, etc) and you can't use them unless you ask me first. So there. (AishiyuriiKomojo@neo.rr.com)