Shard 5: Freddy.

We've got a new TV. Got it last month. Bought it straight outta Lance's pay.

It's second-hand, of course, but pretty good. The old one got broken, smashed. Lots'a things get broken here.

Things always break around me. Stuff, I mean. People too, sometimes.

When I was a kid, I remember breakin' my mom's mirror by accident. I remember how it looked, all smashed and stuff, all the little bits reflecting something different. Weird that, when you think about it, the way it used to be this whole image, but when it's smashed each little bit looks different.

I feel like that sometimes, like I'm looking at a broken mirror. Not literally - that'd be confusing, 'cos in mirrors left and right is the other way round and, you know? That'd be annoying. Heh.

But yeah, things 'round here seem that way, sometimes.

And I'm the only one who sees it, see? 'Cos I take time, I watch things, think about them, I'm like... a piece of furniture, like the couch, or the TV, or... like a... like a mirror too. Yeah, 'cos no one sees me, not really, they just see themselves.

Look at me, all ph... phili... philosyp... thoughtful.

But all the others, they're too busy lookin' after their own... you know... piece of mirror... their... um... shard. Yeah, their shard.

They don't see the whole picture, not like me.

Speakin' of pictures, this one's crap. The TV, I mean, it's all fritzy at the moment. But it's kinda grey and cloudy outside, so maybe that's messin' with the... you know... the reception.

Wanda went to bed an hour ago, she always goes at nine, it's a habit she has. Wanda's been gettin' a lot of habits lately.

I hear the door. It's Lance. I get on with Lance; he's kinda cool, you know?

Like me - not too smart, but down to earth.

Uh, did I just make a joke?

Anyway, Lance is pretty cool, he loses his temper sometimes, just like me, but he's got a lot on his mind, lotta responsibility. He shouldn't have, but he takes it on, you know? I mean, he's not even the leader no more, that's Pietro, but *he* ain't gonna move his butt, and he ain't practical enough anyways. So Lance gets most of the shit - working, sorting things out, stuff like that.

He's pretty hassled when he comes in, goes to his room pretty soon. I make some food for him and take it up to him. When I get to the top of the stairs I hear Lance talking, it sounds like he's talking to himself, but I know better.

Its Kitty again, he's talkin' to her on the phone, his cell.

Yeah, I know about that, I hear him say her name, see? And it don't take no genius to know that, if he ain't usin' the phone downstairs he must be usin' a cell-phone.

I think it's pretty bad for him, mopin' over Kitty, 'cos she ain't gonna be coming back to him. It's over, I can see it. So can anyone else, 'cept Lance.

Ouch! She's pushed him away again, he must've lost his temper 'cos I hear the phone smash. I knock on the door then, and he lets me in. I give him the food and pat him on the shoulder, try to give him some... I dunno, some comfort I guess. But I'm not too good at that, not good at being gentle.

I'd like to say something you know? But Lance... he's real private, more than anyone else, and real proud too. He'd just get angry if I let on I'd heard anything, so I stay quiet. That's what I'm good at, stayin' quiet.

And Lance is strong, like a wall, but he ain't perfect; there are cracks, you know? And soon he's gonna break if things don't change, I can see it comin'.

So I'm headin' back downstairs, but I hear somethin' else, someone movin' up there. It don't sound like Lance, so it gotta be Wanda.

I don't get on that well with her. I mean, I don't have a problem with her or nothing, she's all right. But I don't... connect at all, you know? To be honest, I don't reckon she connects with anyone, not even herself. She's confused all the time, I mean... I dunno, I can't put it into words.

She knows it's not right, though, knows something's wrong. She's been movin' from her room lately, 'cos she don't feel right there, don't feel safe. So she's been goin' to Pietro for comfort, 'cos he's the only thing that feels real to her at the moment.

Yeah, I know a bit about that, I figure it out, you know? She comes down here for some cocoa at night, just sits there, thinking, a strange look on her face.

I don't ask what's wrong, but I can guess. I'd be lying if I said I cared for her, lying if I said I trusted her. She's kinda wild. I feel sorry for her and all, but she's like her brother - unpredictable. We don't know what she's gonna do next, and after how mad she was before...

Anyway, there ain't no reason to worry over it. Things'll sort themselves out. So I go back to the couch and watch a bit more TV. It's just a stupid quiz show, and I can't answer none of the questions neither, but the loser gets dumped in a load of goo, so it's pretty good.

It's just about midnight when the front door opens again; this time it's Todd. He's in a bad way, covered in cuts and stuff, and his leg looks really bad. Poor Todd, he gets beaten up worse than anyone, but he's so used to it he barely whinges any more. I guess I'm lucky, most things just bounce straight off me, so I don't need no real medical stuff. The other guys ain't so lucky though, you should see some of the shit they get hit with.

Todd asks where Pietro is, and I tell him he's gone to some café again, to plug up on coffee. I ask what happened to his leg, he says that Summers got him again, took most of the money he picked. I grab the First Aid kit and, with Todd's help, bandage up the leg. It ain't too bad, probably just a sprain, and Todd heals quickly; all mutants do.

Anyhow, he goes back upstairs to do his thing while I cook somethin' up for him to eat. Same thing I made for Lance - cheese, toast and beans. I can make better stuff, but we don't have much in. Still, if Todd's off doing his thing in the bathroom then we might get a bit more cash tomorrow.

I like Todd, he's kinda fun. He's a wimp, but he tries to be tough, you know? And he gets so much shit... well; he kinda has a right to be a bit annoying, 'cos he's the most gentlest person here. He's a real friend, too. He won't turn his back on you, like Lance, or stab you in the back, like Pietro. So he's kinda cool.

He comes back down with the cards (which he's washed, luckily), and I hide them away in an old cereal packet, at the back of the cupboard. Then I give him his food, which he gulps up fast as anything. He goes on about his day, 'cos his chop's as big as it looks. Yeah, Todd's a big mouth, likes to boast, but he's more sensible than he seems, sometimes. He hasn't told Lance or anyone what he's doing, which I guess must be hard for him, 'cos he gets so much disrespect and he don't deserve it, not really.

Anyhow, soon as he finishes up eatin' he goes upstairs, says he's headin' to bed, but I don't reckon he is. He's probably gonna hang outside Wanda's room for a bit, cos he really likes her, even if she don't know it. It's sad; he loves her so much that it scares her. If he backed away, took it easier I think he'd do better, you know?

But who the hell am I to be blabbing' about that? With my experience with Jean? Yeah, so much for the gentle touch.

The thing with Wanda is freaking us all out though. I think he's got the wrong idea about her and Pietro, you know? He's been looking at Pietro very oddly recently, but I haven't told him otherwise, 'cos I know that Wanda and Pietro don't like to be seen as weak neither. They wouldn't be too happy if they found out I'd been blabbing about them.

I watch some more late night TV for a bit, some old film, bit of a romance, real cute but not that interestin'. I feel my eye lids drooping.

I wake up at about quarter to three, 'cos there's this program I like to watch. It's this serialised adult cartoon, pretty strange but really cool. I always try to catch it, and I used to set up an alarm clock specially so that, if I fell asleep, I'd still get to see it. Now though I've got so used to wakin' up to watching it I just... you know... wake up automatically.

It's in my sleepin' patterns or something.

So, I watch the cartoon for a bit, and then I hear something upstairs.

There's a whooshing sound. It's Pietro.

He musta come back from his caffeine binge when I was asleep; he's real sneaky like that. He's almost naked, just got some underwear on, and he's got some sheets in his arms.

He's wet himself again.

I found that out a while ago, as I'm usually down here at night, watchin' my program, like I said. So I've seen him come down here before, seen him stuff the sheet in the washing machine and... well, I put two and two together.

I'm smart enough to do that, you know.

I reckon it's 'cos of his sister, he's gettin' mighty stressed over her, same as she is over him.

He looks scared of course, 'cos he knows that if someone finds out then they could embarrass the hell outta him. That's the thing with Pietro, he hates feeling helpless, or weak, hates being laughed at as much as me. But we're still very different, and we don't like each other at all. He's a sneaky cowered, so handsome, popular, fast, but weak. One punch knocks his lights out, he can't take pain. He's just my... you know... opposite.

He's as arrogant as fuck too, likes to hurt people worse than me, all full of big words, and for a man who sees the world in slow motion, he don't pay much attention to other people's feelin's.

Yeah, outta all the Brotherhood, he's the one I like the least. And now he's weak, he's mine. I mean, he's always been too fast for me to pound before, but now... now I can just spill the beans, can just tell everyone our boss wets his bed. Good revenge, huh?

I lean forward and turn up the box, so that it hides the sound of the washing, that way no one will hear what's happening, no one will have a clue what Pietro's doing.

Yeah, maybe I should let spill, maybe it would be good revenge, but it ain't my gig, you know? When I take it out on Pietro, it'll be my way, with fists, not with words and shit. 'Cos as much as punches hurt, laugher is worse.

He don't say thanks, of course. Didn't expect him too, it ain't his way. But for a moment... I dunno, maybe there's something in his eyes.

But it's gone quickly, like everything, and he goes over to the other seat, curls up in it and watches the TV. It's as if he's pretendin' I ain't here.

Which is cool by me.

So I watch the rest of my cartoon, and when it's over I glance back over to Pietro, see what he's doing.

He's asleep.

It's weird, curled up like that on the chair, just the TV light on his skin... he looks so... you know... young. Vulnerable.

Guess that's true of us all, really. Guess that's what the 'hood's all about. A group of kids, angry, confused, heartbroken, scared... lonely... and all tryin' to be adults.

That's the thing, I reckon, it's about how scared we all are, how little we trust each other. See, when you don't trust someone, when you're scared, you don't share things. You don't tell each other things.

So you're alone, keeping everything inside where it kinda... you know... festers. We're like that broken mirror, each piece afraid to tell the others what it sees, so our image is like... wrecked.

And we gotta patch it up soon, or the cracks will only get wider until the mirror breaks, see?

But I guess I'll always be here, watchin' the image, watching the others move around me, and I'll always be silent. 'Cos that's what I am, the unmovable Blob.

But hell, that's too much thinkin' for one night.

I get up and move away, not tryin' to keep quiet. That way Pietro will wake up and finish his thing with the washing.

Meanwhile, I'm off to bed, like normal, it's time I got to sleep.

'Cos ain't nothing special happening round here tonight.

Goodnight.