------
WARNING: This chapter has a somewhat graphic description of a hate crime at the end of it. If you are going to be offended by strong language and violent actions, please click the 'Back' button on your browser NOW or skip ahead to the next chapter (when posted) to avoid it.
This chapter is rated R for hate-related violence and foul language. Consider yourself warned.
------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again. I should note that the actions depicted near the end of this chapter are fairly barbaric and represent some of the less savory parts of human nature. Apologies in advance for any offended sensibilities.
Cheers.
Jack
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School started two days later. By the middle of fourth period I was already wishing I'd dropped out. It wasn't the fact that I was being pushed around (literally) by members of Xavier's merry band of mutants. Nor was it the fact that people kept waiting on me hand and foot, though that did irritate me somewhat. No, what really got to me were the stares.
I should have had an idea of just how bad the day would go the moment Lance parked in the lot. A few people lingered on the sidewalk as he unloaded the wheelchair. By the time he'd transferred me into the damn thing a small crowd had formed. It felt like the entire school was watching as he rolled me into the building. People were peering at me as though I was some sort of strange creature. You know the routine: the glance, the look-away, then that longer, more furtive second look as though trying to figure out precisely what you are. It was driving me up a wall. I swear, the moment I got my legs back I was going to do something suitably horrible to everyone who'd given me that look.
Like superglue all their lockers shut in-between tardy bells. That sounded appealing.
It didn't stop on the sidewalk, either. I could feel eyes on me all the way to the office. I'm sure that by the time I had my schedule in hand and had figured out a plan for getting to and from class the entire school knew about my situation. How jolly. Oh, I freely admit that I enjoy being the center of attention - most of the time. This most definitely does not include being stared at like a caged animal. I draw the line at being scenery.
The one bright side of the entire school day, in a matter of speaking, was the fact that I shared every class with at least one other student from the Institute. Kurt, for example, was in trigonometry with me; Lance and I had English together, etc. This made it a lot easier to coordinate moving about the school.
It turned out I never had to look too far if I needed one of them, either. Since someone had to keep an eye on me (and get me where I needed to go) at all times, I guess they found it a lot easier to just hang out at my locker. You might say my locker became the default social center for the Institute kids. I wasn't sure I liked that, but at least I didn't have to worry about mobility.
Mind you, sharing classes with the X-Brats was also something of a drawback. I mean, I had to live with these people. Shouldn't school allow me time away from them? After all, I have a certain reputation to maintain.
Obviously that was out of the question. Generalissimo Xavier had ordered his little minions to accept me into his guerilla army as one of their own. Getting time away from them was out of the question. They had their orders to make me fit in, even if I wanted to keep my distance. Of course, some of them could actually want to be friends with me...
Nah. Who was I kidding?
The first four hours had gone by quickly enough. After I'd scowled my way past any inquiries as to my health, people had generally left me alone. Except for the staring. That didn't stop until later, but I'll get to that in good time.
Usually I like history classes, but this one had gone on for what seemed like forever. I was sure that by the time the bell rang the textbook would be out of date. I made a note to try to have history swapped with another period if possible. It's hard to pay attention in class when lunch is next on the agenda.
Normally I keep a case of energy bars in the bottom of my locker to munch on between classes. Since this was the only first day of class I hadn't had a chance to pick up any. So while Mr. Peterson droned on about the Hundred Years War or the Seven Years War or another of those conveniently-numbered wars my mind was wholly on lunch. Granted, cafeteria food lurked somewhere between boiled cabbage and Spam on the edibility chart, but at least it was filling.
More importantly, lunch would possibly give me a chance to be alone or at least left alone. I say possibly because I shared history with Summers, who was a little too attentive for my taste. The hard part would be convincing him to get lost for the thirty-minute lunch period.
You're probably wondering why I shared any classes with Summers or Red, with whom I had psychology. The short version is that I'm smart. More specifically, I've consistently ranked much higher than average on placement tests. As a result, I'd been allowed to enroll in classes up to one grade higher than my own. Transferring to Bayside High hadn't changed that. Since Mystique had run the place, she'd ordered the scheduling offices to accommodate me. Apparently Principal Kelly didn't question her decision, either. The fact that I had straight-A's probably had something to do with it.
The bell finally rang and the classroom emptied at a speed only slightly slower than a stampede of buffalo. Summers, of course, lingered behind until the door became less congested. "Need anything from your locker?" he asked me as he hefted his backpack over his shoulders.
"Actually, yes," I said with a sigh, "but if you think I'd fit in there, do me a favor and stuff me in there before the next class starts." He wheeled me past Mr. Peterson's desk, on which the teacher was laying out his own lunch. I started to salivate. "After lunch, that is," I added as we entered the hall.
"What's wrong? Someone giving you grief?"
I didn't say anything for a moment. I was too busy trying to avoid people's eyes and failing to pay attention to the guy. As soon as we'd come out into the hall the watching had started. This time there was an undercurrent of whispering to go along with it. At least that was new.
"Pietro?" Summers asked again.
"The only trouble I'm having is not freaking out while everyone stares at me," I told him in a voice just loud enough for him to hear. He went quiet above me; a glance told me that he was looking around us. A slight frown settled onto his face.
"They're not staring. Much, anyway."
"That's because you're looking at them!" I snapped. He rolled me up to my locker, and then leaned against the one next to mine. I could feel his gaze on me along with everyone else's as I spun the combination on my lock. "And now you're doing it. Quit that."
"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something here?" he asked.
Because you're clueless, you uptight imbecile? I didn't say it out loud. I didn't have to: Jean walked up at that point and the look on her face was enough to tell me she'd overheard my thoughts.
"That wasn't nice, Pietro," Jean said by way of greeting. Summers gave her a blank look as he put his arm around her.
"Hello to you too, Red," I said dryly, shuffling books in into my backpack. Normally at this point, before lunch that is, I'd be popping a Xanax. Unfortunately I hadn't had that prescription refilled since moving out of New York City. So I'm a little tense, I thought. It's nothing I can't handle.
"Don't call me that," she said automatically. Then she looked at me. "You're on an anti-anxiety prescription and you didn't tell Doctor MacTaggart?"
I zipped my backpack and slammed my locker shut. "Will you quit doing that?" I growled at her. I expected Summers to start moving us toward the cafeteria, but he didn't move. I twisted around and looked up at him.
He looked highly amused for some reason.
"What are you grinning at?"
Summers smirked. "You guys," he said. The three of us started down the hall. "You two are always at each others' throats for some reason."
"Well, it'd be great if she stopped reading my mind," I said.
"He keeps calling me that annoying name," she said at the same time. She and I exchanged a look. Ok, so it was a silly argument on both ends. Wouldn't catch me admitting that out loud, though. I'd never give her the satisfaction of knowing I felt just the tiniest bit guilty that we bickered so much.
'I'll ignore that,' Jean's voice said in my head. 'Have you come up with a solution for Friday yet?' My eyes slid over to hers. That she hadn't asked that aloud meant that she probably hadn't told Summers yet. Good to know that she could keep her mouth shut on occasion.
Not yet, I thought at her. If I didn't think of something soon, Friday would really suck.
Lucky for me I was still on the free lunch program, because I still had no cash to my name. Turns out I was the only one to go through the line, too. The others had packed lunches. I regarded the 'meat' loaf with a critical eye and resolved to do the same for tomorrow.
Despite my reservations, it didn't take long at all to get rid of Summers. Apparently he wanted to spend a little time alone with Red, so he deposited me in an out-of-the-way corner of the courtyard. I noticed that he didn't go very far, either. I guess Mr. Goodbar still wanted to keep an eye on me. Most of my younger housemates had the earlier lunch period, so at least I didn't have to suffer through the next thirty minutes with company.
I spotted Amanda and Kurt across the yard. After having spent so much time with the little blue guy in his natural form, it was like seeing a stranger. Intellectually I knew that he was underneath all that, but it really touched a chord in me that he felt it necessary to walk about in another form. It just felt wrong that we lived in a world that wouldn't accept us for what we were.
Considering we were keeping our relationship, whatever it was, under wraps, I suppose that sounds hypocritical. I never said I was consistent. Keep that in mind.
What on earth was I going to do about him? He'd been so excited after Rahne's party, when he'd asked me to go with him to that concert. I'd drown in guilt if I pulled out. Rahne, on the other hand, had been just as enthusiastic about being asked on a date. I idly wondered if there were any tickets left. If Kurt was going to take Amanda along, he couldn't very well object to me taking Rahne, could he?
Urk. Forget I said that.
Maybe I could get away with taking Rahne to dinner and then go with Kurt to the concert. That was probably my best choice. It would have to be a really early meal since we'd have to be in the City by around seven and it was a bit of a drive. Hopefully the guy would ask for the keys this time. Somehow the idea of being nailed by New York's finest for grand theft auto didn't appeal to me. Yeah, that sounded like the best option. It beat the heck out of dragging Rahne along on an already-complicated date.
A shadow loomed over me and I realized that I'd been a little too focused on Friday night. I looked up to find Duncan Matthews, Bayside High School's resident jackass, standing over me. Since his sycophants weren't hanging on his elbows, I assumed this was a social call and not an invitation to get splattered across the pavement.
I can't imagine what he wanted with me. It's not like we moved in the same circles, after all. He was part of the jock crowd, with everything that implies, and I wasn't exactly into sports other than basketball. Mainly because of people like Duncan. The idea of associating with idiots is part of what kept me out of Xavier's Institute, after all. Why should the high school athletics department be any different?
"Hello, Duncan," I said warily.
"Maximoff," he replied. I waited. "I'll keep this short. Stay away from Jean." He crossed his arms and stared down at me. What the hell was he talking about?
I shook my head. This guy was nuts. "Look, number one: in case you hadn't heard, I'm living at the Institute now. It's hard to stay away from her when we live at the same freakin' house. Number two, and I'll say this slowly so that you won't misunderstand: she's not going out with you any more."
I pointed past him to where Summers and Jean were sitting. Not just for his benefit. I was trying really hard to get their attention too. There was something in his face that told me I'd probably been a little too snappy with my remarks. Needless to say, he didn't even bother looking; he just kept glaring at me.
What was I supposed to say? That I'd keep clear of his ex- girlfriend? Hell, I was already going out with two people at once. The last thing I needed was another warm body thrown into the mix.
"What's this really about, Dunc? You can't really be serious about her. I mean, she dumped you. Hard, as I recall." Nice going you dumb ass, I thought. Why not just twist the knife a little more? Perhaps rub a little salt into the wound too? I tried, belatedly, to salvage the situation. "What gives you the idea I'm interested in her, anyway?"
Duncan's face was a marvelous shade of red. I had to admit I was impressed underneath the feeling of imminent death. I'd never seen that particular color on a person before. It put me in mind of a rather irate tomato. The school bell rang before he could answer. My luck was running high today. This could have been messy had he caught up with me earlier.
I took a quick look past the hulking jock and felt a sizable amount of tension bleed away. Summers was on his way over to take me to the next class. The frown on his face said plainly that he didn't like Duncan. That moved Summers up a notch in my book. He was still a righteous dork, but at least he had decent taste in people.
"Hi, Duncan," he said. "If you'll excuse us, we need to get to class." Without waiting for a reply, he got us moving toward the door. I didn't take my eyes off Duncan the entire time, just in case he seriously tried to start something. After school, his eyes told me. Wonderful. I had about three hours to live.
Summers didn't slow down once we were inside the building. "Do me a favor and keep out of his way, will you?" he said as we headed toward biology. "Jean has a feeling he's got it in for you for some reason."
"Can't imagine why," I said, shrugging. "For once we agree on something, though."
That earned me a smirk. "Lance giving you a ride home?"
"Yeah." I blinked. Home? Is that what Xavier's place is to me? I hadn't really thought of it that way. I mean, isn't home supposed to be someplace where people care about you? Where you can live without worrying about anything? The strange thing is...I think Summers may have been right.
"Good," he went on. "Kurt's got you for the next two classes. I think between the three of us we can avoid that jerk." That last was said with a noticeable amount of venom.
"Admit it: you'd rather knock him on his ass with your eyeballs, wouldn't you?"
He snickered. "I'd jump at the chance, but the Professor wants us all to be a little more careful about using our powers openly. He said that we can't afford more bad publicity."
I didn't know how to respond to that, but I didn't have to. The tardy bell rang as we entered the classroom and that was it for casual conversation. I couldn't help but think about what he'd said, though. I'd glanced at the newspaper once or twice recently and noticed more and more editorials about mutants. It was hard to say just how tenuous the balance between the pro-mutant and anti-mutant groups was, but it seemed like it was fairly close. I supposed I could see why Xavier wanted us all to be extra careful.
English Lit dragged on and on around me. Fortunately, I can read a novel in about five minutes; ten if we're talking about something thick. I wasn't worried about not concentrating. Every time the teacher looked at me as if to chide my inattentiveness, I could see her eyes linger on the chair before looking away. I'd have to remember to use that to my advantage.
This was the final class of the day, thank heaven. I'd only been awake for nine hours and I was exhausted. I hadn't realized how hectic high school was until I wasn't able to keep pace with it on my own. How irritating. I smothered a yawn, trying not to daydream about taking a nap when I got back to the Institute. That was pure fantasy on my part. I had no doubt that Hank would want me to work out first. Then there'd be more of that physical therapy. Then more practice moving myself about. And then, if I hadn't dropped dead by seven, I might be able to squeeze in a meal.
I made the decision then and there to catch up on any homework during the ride to school tomorrow morning. There wasn't the slightest doubt in my mind that I'd be going to bed early for a while.
Lance snagged me at my locker a couple minutes after the final bell rang. His final period was on the other side of the school and he was just about out of breath when he got there. I waved to Bobby, who'd hung around while I waited for my ride, and watched him take off down the hall to see if he could catch Summers before he drove off.
"Been waiting long?" Lance panted.
"Not really. You sound like crap," I said. He was also soaked in sweat. "No, don't tell me. You've got gym for seventh period."
Lance nodded, leaning against my locker. "Coach ran us. Around the track all hour. Said we were. Getting lazy. Over the summer." He punctuated each sentence with a gasp. Poor guy. I put on my most sympathetic face while he talked. Inside, however, I exulted that I didn't have to take gym until my legs worked again. Coach Bingerman was an ex- Navy Seal who felt that if you couldn't keep up with him on the track you didn't deserve to live. Since the man could probably run a horse into the ground, he held a low opinion of just about everyone at school. The feeling, I might add, was mutual. Everyone I knew hated Coach with a passion.
"Ready to go?" I asked. Call me nervous, but I wanted out of here before Duncan made another appearance in my life. Lance nodded carefully, looking as though he was going to fall over if he made too vigorous an effort. After another moment of getting his wind, we started toward the parking lot. He pulled up short before we got to the doors, though.
"Just gotta hit the can first," Lance said. "Wait for me, will you?" I just looked at him until he rolled his eyes. "Never mind. I'll be out in a moment."
I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Ever notice how hard it is to wait outside a john for someone and not look like you're waiting? I can never figure out why, either. I had bigger things to worry about, anyway. Namely that great blond moron coming down the hall in my direction with a pair of lackeys in tow.
"Houston, we have a problem," I muttered to myself. My eyes darted up and down the hall, hoping I'd find a stray X-Man lingering about. The one time I could really have used one and there weren't any in the area. How ironic can you get? Come on Lance, I thought, don't take all afternoon in there. No luck there, either. I looked around for a teacher, a custodian, a counselor. Any adult. Boy, my luck really sucked today.
I didn't like the look he was giving me, and for good reason. I'd seen a slightly more intense version on Logan at times, but not often. In fact most of the time I'd been on the opposing team and we'd been slaughtered when he had that look. It was obvious Duncan was out to hurt someone and I'd drawn the lucky number. Since I didn't really have a prayer of coming out of this in one piece, I didn't bother to rein in my mouth.
"Hello again, Duncan," I said. When he didn't respond, I added, "The word you're looking for is 'hi.' It's not hard to say; try it. Go on, give it a shoUUUUUURK!" Duncan's hands twisted my collar. With hardly any effort, I found myself being held in the air in front of the guy. The really pathetic part is that the only thing I could do to fight back was to grab onto one of his arms with both of mine and try to heave him off. I might as well have been trying to give a rhinoceros a noogie for all the good it did.
"What," I gasped, "have I done to you lately that's got you so damn pissed?"
"We never finished our conversation from lunch," he said, easily holding me off the ground. "Tell me you're going to stay away from Jean. Now."
I could hardly believe my ears. "Are you still harping on that subject? How many times have I got to tell you: I have no interest in Jean. Come on," I smiled weakly. "What's this really about?"
Duncan looked back over his shoulder, snapping his head toward his two toadies. Apparently this was the signal to give him room to beat people into wallpaper paste because they both moved back. In desperation, I flicked my eyes up and down the hall again. We were alone. Just the four of us. Great.
I looked back at Duncan as he pulled me closer, folding his arms as though he was curling weights. The one I'd grabbed a hold of felt like iron. I bet Coach didn't call Duncan a sissy. I was close enough to see blond stubble on his chin. He needed a shave already and hadn't even left the school yet. Guess he was just that much more man than the rest of the males of the species.
"You're right," he said in a voice low enough that I was sure his two lookouts couldn't hear, "this isn't about Jean. This is about that Wagner kid, you little faggots. I've heard all about you two." His lips pulled back from his teeth in a grotesque parody of a grin. For the first time I was truly frightened. He waited for an answer without loosening his grip. He'd be waiting a hell of a long time, though, because I was shocked.
Just how freakin' hard is it to keep a damn secret, Kurt Wagner?
"I won't deny anything, Dunc," I said as calmly as I could. Hurry up, Lance. Maybe I could stall him with conversation, I thought. It was a nice idea, I guess. Too bad the message never made it to my mouth. "But before you turn me into a greasy spot on the floor, I'd like to point out that most homophobes are actually frightened because they've found something within themselves that they don't like. Tell me, which one of your friends have you found yourself attracted to?"
It probably goes without saying that I'd have been better off saying nothing at all.
He growled and banged me into the bank of lockers once, twice, three times. My lower back exploded in pain on the third impact. I think I managed to nail a combination dial with my stab wound. Good lord, that hurt like hell! My involuntary responses were to squeeze his arm a lot tighter and attempt to shriek at the top of my lungs. I'm sure you'd have done the same thing.
The shriek died in my throat. I could barely breathe as it was; I certainly had no breath to spare on something as useless as a scream. I stared, wide-eyed, at Duncan's face. Black spots were beginning to cloud my vision and I could feel panic building. Did this stop me from making another smart-assed remark?
Of course not.
"You planning to kiss me and make this feel better?" I squeezed out between breaths.
"Rot in hell, you little shit." Apparently that was a no. The next thing I knew, he slammed me back into the lockers with his full strength. I hit hard enough to see stars. In fact, I hit hard enough that my teeth hurt with the vibration. I felt a warm stickiness on the back of my skull and knew that he'd broken the skin. I giggled insanely. Good thing I was wearing a black shirt, huh?
I could hear, dimly anyway, running footsteps coming toward us. Someone in dress shoes, which made it an adult. Thank God. Duncan ignored the man's warnings to 'put the kid down!' and slammed me into the lockers again. My arms were starting to go numb from the shoulders down thanks to the repeated impacts. If I was going to do something, it would have to be quick.
Working by feel, since my vision was going loopy, I shifted my grip on his right arm. I grabbed his wrist and his elbow quicker than a thought and made my decision. He wasn't going to let go unless someone physically made him release me. That wasn't going to happen, so I'd have to do it myself. I inhaled as deeply as possible and then jerked the hand on his elbow in a quick motion inward. As expected, his elbow wasn't supposed to bend like that. The sound of his joint snapping was almost musical in my ears. Too bad it didn't work the way I'd planned.
Duncan yowled in rage, and his broken arm dropped away from me. Oh crud. He was left-handed, not right-handed. There was more than enough strength in his left arm for him to crush me into the lockers one final time. My head whipped back, causing my ears to ring as it hit the locker. I had a moment to wish I'd joined Lance in the bathroom before my bladder let go. Oddly, I was almost more embarrassed by pissing my shorts than by being ground into hamburger. Strange what goes through your mind during times of stress.
Everything happened in a rush after that. My vision was shot to hell and gone, but I felt a familiar brush of flannel and knew that Lance had entered the fray. There was shouting, but I wasn't really listening to any of it. My saviors somehow managed to get Duncan to release me and I slid down the locker door. It was an effort to get my arms up quickly enough to protect my head, but I managed. It still didn't stop me from blacking out. The last thing I remember was the ground rumbling underneath me as I hit the floor.
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To Be Continued.
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To My Reviewers:
Psygirl: If I kill off Magneto, who'd give the X-Men any grief? I mean, sooner or later the guy is going to make an appearance. (Chapter fourteen, maybe fifteen, in fact.) Otherwise there's no purpose for Xavier's creation of the X-Men in the first place, right?
WARNING: This chapter has a somewhat graphic description of a hate crime at the end of it. If you are going to be offended by strong language and violent actions, please click the 'Back' button on your browser NOW or skip ahead to the next chapter (when posted) to avoid it.
This chapter is rated R for hate-related violence and foul language. Consider yourself warned.
------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again. I should note that the actions depicted near the end of this chapter are fairly barbaric and represent some of the less savory parts of human nature. Apologies in advance for any offended sensibilities.
Cheers.
Jack
------
School started two days later. By the middle of fourth period I was already wishing I'd dropped out. It wasn't the fact that I was being pushed around (literally) by members of Xavier's merry band of mutants. Nor was it the fact that people kept waiting on me hand and foot, though that did irritate me somewhat. No, what really got to me were the stares.
I should have had an idea of just how bad the day would go the moment Lance parked in the lot. A few people lingered on the sidewalk as he unloaded the wheelchair. By the time he'd transferred me into the damn thing a small crowd had formed. It felt like the entire school was watching as he rolled me into the building. People were peering at me as though I was some sort of strange creature. You know the routine: the glance, the look-away, then that longer, more furtive second look as though trying to figure out precisely what you are. It was driving me up a wall. I swear, the moment I got my legs back I was going to do something suitably horrible to everyone who'd given me that look.
Like superglue all their lockers shut in-between tardy bells. That sounded appealing.
It didn't stop on the sidewalk, either. I could feel eyes on me all the way to the office. I'm sure that by the time I had my schedule in hand and had figured out a plan for getting to and from class the entire school knew about my situation. How jolly. Oh, I freely admit that I enjoy being the center of attention - most of the time. This most definitely does not include being stared at like a caged animal. I draw the line at being scenery.
The one bright side of the entire school day, in a matter of speaking, was the fact that I shared every class with at least one other student from the Institute. Kurt, for example, was in trigonometry with me; Lance and I had English together, etc. This made it a lot easier to coordinate moving about the school.
It turned out I never had to look too far if I needed one of them, either. Since someone had to keep an eye on me (and get me where I needed to go) at all times, I guess they found it a lot easier to just hang out at my locker. You might say my locker became the default social center for the Institute kids. I wasn't sure I liked that, but at least I didn't have to worry about mobility.
Mind you, sharing classes with the X-Brats was also something of a drawback. I mean, I had to live with these people. Shouldn't school allow me time away from them? After all, I have a certain reputation to maintain.
Obviously that was out of the question. Generalissimo Xavier had ordered his little minions to accept me into his guerilla army as one of their own. Getting time away from them was out of the question. They had their orders to make me fit in, even if I wanted to keep my distance. Of course, some of them could actually want to be friends with me...
Nah. Who was I kidding?
The first four hours had gone by quickly enough. After I'd scowled my way past any inquiries as to my health, people had generally left me alone. Except for the staring. That didn't stop until later, but I'll get to that in good time.
Usually I like history classes, but this one had gone on for what seemed like forever. I was sure that by the time the bell rang the textbook would be out of date. I made a note to try to have history swapped with another period if possible. It's hard to pay attention in class when lunch is next on the agenda.
Normally I keep a case of energy bars in the bottom of my locker to munch on between classes. Since this was the only first day of class I hadn't had a chance to pick up any. So while Mr. Peterson droned on about the Hundred Years War or the Seven Years War or another of those conveniently-numbered wars my mind was wholly on lunch. Granted, cafeteria food lurked somewhere between boiled cabbage and Spam on the edibility chart, but at least it was filling.
More importantly, lunch would possibly give me a chance to be alone or at least left alone. I say possibly because I shared history with Summers, who was a little too attentive for my taste. The hard part would be convincing him to get lost for the thirty-minute lunch period.
You're probably wondering why I shared any classes with Summers or Red, with whom I had psychology. The short version is that I'm smart. More specifically, I've consistently ranked much higher than average on placement tests. As a result, I'd been allowed to enroll in classes up to one grade higher than my own. Transferring to Bayside High hadn't changed that. Since Mystique had run the place, she'd ordered the scheduling offices to accommodate me. Apparently Principal Kelly didn't question her decision, either. The fact that I had straight-A's probably had something to do with it.
The bell finally rang and the classroom emptied at a speed only slightly slower than a stampede of buffalo. Summers, of course, lingered behind until the door became less congested. "Need anything from your locker?" he asked me as he hefted his backpack over his shoulders.
"Actually, yes," I said with a sigh, "but if you think I'd fit in there, do me a favor and stuff me in there before the next class starts." He wheeled me past Mr. Peterson's desk, on which the teacher was laying out his own lunch. I started to salivate. "After lunch, that is," I added as we entered the hall.
"What's wrong? Someone giving you grief?"
I didn't say anything for a moment. I was too busy trying to avoid people's eyes and failing to pay attention to the guy. As soon as we'd come out into the hall the watching had started. This time there was an undercurrent of whispering to go along with it. At least that was new.
"Pietro?" Summers asked again.
"The only trouble I'm having is not freaking out while everyone stares at me," I told him in a voice just loud enough for him to hear. He went quiet above me; a glance told me that he was looking around us. A slight frown settled onto his face.
"They're not staring. Much, anyway."
"That's because you're looking at them!" I snapped. He rolled me up to my locker, and then leaned against the one next to mine. I could feel his gaze on me along with everyone else's as I spun the combination on my lock. "And now you're doing it. Quit that."
"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something here?" he asked.
Because you're clueless, you uptight imbecile? I didn't say it out loud. I didn't have to: Jean walked up at that point and the look on her face was enough to tell me she'd overheard my thoughts.
"That wasn't nice, Pietro," Jean said by way of greeting. Summers gave her a blank look as he put his arm around her.
"Hello to you too, Red," I said dryly, shuffling books in into my backpack. Normally at this point, before lunch that is, I'd be popping a Xanax. Unfortunately I hadn't had that prescription refilled since moving out of New York City. So I'm a little tense, I thought. It's nothing I can't handle.
"Don't call me that," she said automatically. Then she looked at me. "You're on an anti-anxiety prescription and you didn't tell Doctor MacTaggart?"
I zipped my backpack and slammed my locker shut. "Will you quit doing that?" I growled at her. I expected Summers to start moving us toward the cafeteria, but he didn't move. I twisted around and looked up at him.
He looked highly amused for some reason.
"What are you grinning at?"
Summers smirked. "You guys," he said. The three of us started down the hall. "You two are always at each others' throats for some reason."
"Well, it'd be great if she stopped reading my mind," I said.
"He keeps calling me that annoying name," she said at the same time. She and I exchanged a look. Ok, so it was a silly argument on both ends. Wouldn't catch me admitting that out loud, though. I'd never give her the satisfaction of knowing I felt just the tiniest bit guilty that we bickered so much.
'I'll ignore that,' Jean's voice said in my head. 'Have you come up with a solution for Friday yet?' My eyes slid over to hers. That she hadn't asked that aloud meant that she probably hadn't told Summers yet. Good to know that she could keep her mouth shut on occasion.
Not yet, I thought at her. If I didn't think of something soon, Friday would really suck.
Lucky for me I was still on the free lunch program, because I still had no cash to my name. Turns out I was the only one to go through the line, too. The others had packed lunches. I regarded the 'meat' loaf with a critical eye and resolved to do the same for tomorrow.
Despite my reservations, it didn't take long at all to get rid of Summers. Apparently he wanted to spend a little time alone with Red, so he deposited me in an out-of-the-way corner of the courtyard. I noticed that he didn't go very far, either. I guess Mr. Goodbar still wanted to keep an eye on me. Most of my younger housemates had the earlier lunch period, so at least I didn't have to suffer through the next thirty minutes with company.
I spotted Amanda and Kurt across the yard. After having spent so much time with the little blue guy in his natural form, it was like seeing a stranger. Intellectually I knew that he was underneath all that, but it really touched a chord in me that he felt it necessary to walk about in another form. It just felt wrong that we lived in a world that wouldn't accept us for what we were.
Considering we were keeping our relationship, whatever it was, under wraps, I suppose that sounds hypocritical. I never said I was consistent. Keep that in mind.
What on earth was I going to do about him? He'd been so excited after Rahne's party, when he'd asked me to go with him to that concert. I'd drown in guilt if I pulled out. Rahne, on the other hand, had been just as enthusiastic about being asked on a date. I idly wondered if there were any tickets left. If Kurt was going to take Amanda along, he couldn't very well object to me taking Rahne, could he?
Urk. Forget I said that.
Maybe I could get away with taking Rahne to dinner and then go with Kurt to the concert. That was probably my best choice. It would have to be a really early meal since we'd have to be in the City by around seven and it was a bit of a drive. Hopefully the guy would ask for the keys this time. Somehow the idea of being nailed by New York's finest for grand theft auto didn't appeal to me. Yeah, that sounded like the best option. It beat the heck out of dragging Rahne along on an already-complicated date.
A shadow loomed over me and I realized that I'd been a little too focused on Friday night. I looked up to find Duncan Matthews, Bayside High School's resident jackass, standing over me. Since his sycophants weren't hanging on his elbows, I assumed this was a social call and not an invitation to get splattered across the pavement.
I can't imagine what he wanted with me. It's not like we moved in the same circles, after all. He was part of the jock crowd, with everything that implies, and I wasn't exactly into sports other than basketball. Mainly because of people like Duncan. The idea of associating with idiots is part of what kept me out of Xavier's Institute, after all. Why should the high school athletics department be any different?
"Hello, Duncan," I said warily.
"Maximoff," he replied. I waited. "I'll keep this short. Stay away from Jean." He crossed his arms and stared down at me. What the hell was he talking about?
I shook my head. This guy was nuts. "Look, number one: in case you hadn't heard, I'm living at the Institute now. It's hard to stay away from her when we live at the same freakin' house. Number two, and I'll say this slowly so that you won't misunderstand: she's not going out with you any more."
I pointed past him to where Summers and Jean were sitting. Not just for his benefit. I was trying really hard to get their attention too. There was something in his face that told me I'd probably been a little too snappy with my remarks. Needless to say, he didn't even bother looking; he just kept glaring at me.
What was I supposed to say? That I'd keep clear of his ex- girlfriend? Hell, I was already going out with two people at once. The last thing I needed was another warm body thrown into the mix.
"What's this really about, Dunc? You can't really be serious about her. I mean, she dumped you. Hard, as I recall." Nice going you dumb ass, I thought. Why not just twist the knife a little more? Perhaps rub a little salt into the wound too? I tried, belatedly, to salvage the situation. "What gives you the idea I'm interested in her, anyway?"
Duncan's face was a marvelous shade of red. I had to admit I was impressed underneath the feeling of imminent death. I'd never seen that particular color on a person before. It put me in mind of a rather irate tomato. The school bell rang before he could answer. My luck was running high today. This could have been messy had he caught up with me earlier.
I took a quick look past the hulking jock and felt a sizable amount of tension bleed away. Summers was on his way over to take me to the next class. The frown on his face said plainly that he didn't like Duncan. That moved Summers up a notch in my book. He was still a righteous dork, but at least he had decent taste in people.
"Hi, Duncan," he said. "If you'll excuse us, we need to get to class." Without waiting for a reply, he got us moving toward the door. I didn't take my eyes off Duncan the entire time, just in case he seriously tried to start something. After school, his eyes told me. Wonderful. I had about three hours to live.
Summers didn't slow down once we were inside the building. "Do me a favor and keep out of his way, will you?" he said as we headed toward biology. "Jean has a feeling he's got it in for you for some reason."
"Can't imagine why," I said, shrugging. "For once we agree on something, though."
That earned me a smirk. "Lance giving you a ride home?"
"Yeah." I blinked. Home? Is that what Xavier's place is to me? I hadn't really thought of it that way. I mean, isn't home supposed to be someplace where people care about you? Where you can live without worrying about anything? The strange thing is...I think Summers may have been right.
"Good," he went on. "Kurt's got you for the next two classes. I think between the three of us we can avoid that jerk." That last was said with a noticeable amount of venom.
"Admit it: you'd rather knock him on his ass with your eyeballs, wouldn't you?"
He snickered. "I'd jump at the chance, but the Professor wants us all to be a little more careful about using our powers openly. He said that we can't afford more bad publicity."
I didn't know how to respond to that, but I didn't have to. The tardy bell rang as we entered the classroom and that was it for casual conversation. I couldn't help but think about what he'd said, though. I'd glanced at the newspaper once or twice recently and noticed more and more editorials about mutants. It was hard to say just how tenuous the balance between the pro-mutant and anti-mutant groups was, but it seemed like it was fairly close. I supposed I could see why Xavier wanted us all to be extra careful.
English Lit dragged on and on around me. Fortunately, I can read a novel in about five minutes; ten if we're talking about something thick. I wasn't worried about not concentrating. Every time the teacher looked at me as if to chide my inattentiveness, I could see her eyes linger on the chair before looking away. I'd have to remember to use that to my advantage.
This was the final class of the day, thank heaven. I'd only been awake for nine hours and I was exhausted. I hadn't realized how hectic high school was until I wasn't able to keep pace with it on my own. How irritating. I smothered a yawn, trying not to daydream about taking a nap when I got back to the Institute. That was pure fantasy on my part. I had no doubt that Hank would want me to work out first. Then there'd be more of that physical therapy. Then more practice moving myself about. And then, if I hadn't dropped dead by seven, I might be able to squeeze in a meal.
I made the decision then and there to catch up on any homework during the ride to school tomorrow morning. There wasn't the slightest doubt in my mind that I'd be going to bed early for a while.
Lance snagged me at my locker a couple minutes after the final bell rang. His final period was on the other side of the school and he was just about out of breath when he got there. I waved to Bobby, who'd hung around while I waited for my ride, and watched him take off down the hall to see if he could catch Summers before he drove off.
"Been waiting long?" Lance panted.
"Not really. You sound like crap," I said. He was also soaked in sweat. "No, don't tell me. You've got gym for seventh period."
Lance nodded, leaning against my locker. "Coach ran us. Around the track all hour. Said we were. Getting lazy. Over the summer." He punctuated each sentence with a gasp. Poor guy. I put on my most sympathetic face while he talked. Inside, however, I exulted that I didn't have to take gym until my legs worked again. Coach Bingerman was an ex- Navy Seal who felt that if you couldn't keep up with him on the track you didn't deserve to live. Since the man could probably run a horse into the ground, he held a low opinion of just about everyone at school. The feeling, I might add, was mutual. Everyone I knew hated Coach with a passion.
"Ready to go?" I asked. Call me nervous, but I wanted out of here before Duncan made another appearance in my life. Lance nodded carefully, looking as though he was going to fall over if he made too vigorous an effort. After another moment of getting his wind, we started toward the parking lot. He pulled up short before we got to the doors, though.
"Just gotta hit the can first," Lance said. "Wait for me, will you?" I just looked at him until he rolled his eyes. "Never mind. I'll be out in a moment."
I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Ever notice how hard it is to wait outside a john for someone and not look like you're waiting? I can never figure out why, either. I had bigger things to worry about, anyway. Namely that great blond moron coming down the hall in my direction with a pair of lackeys in tow.
"Houston, we have a problem," I muttered to myself. My eyes darted up and down the hall, hoping I'd find a stray X-Man lingering about. The one time I could really have used one and there weren't any in the area. How ironic can you get? Come on Lance, I thought, don't take all afternoon in there. No luck there, either. I looked around for a teacher, a custodian, a counselor. Any adult. Boy, my luck really sucked today.
I didn't like the look he was giving me, and for good reason. I'd seen a slightly more intense version on Logan at times, but not often. In fact most of the time I'd been on the opposing team and we'd been slaughtered when he had that look. It was obvious Duncan was out to hurt someone and I'd drawn the lucky number. Since I didn't really have a prayer of coming out of this in one piece, I didn't bother to rein in my mouth.
"Hello again, Duncan," I said. When he didn't respond, I added, "The word you're looking for is 'hi.' It's not hard to say; try it. Go on, give it a shoUUUUUURK!" Duncan's hands twisted my collar. With hardly any effort, I found myself being held in the air in front of the guy. The really pathetic part is that the only thing I could do to fight back was to grab onto one of his arms with both of mine and try to heave him off. I might as well have been trying to give a rhinoceros a noogie for all the good it did.
"What," I gasped, "have I done to you lately that's got you so damn pissed?"
"We never finished our conversation from lunch," he said, easily holding me off the ground. "Tell me you're going to stay away from Jean. Now."
I could hardly believe my ears. "Are you still harping on that subject? How many times have I got to tell you: I have no interest in Jean. Come on," I smiled weakly. "What's this really about?"
Duncan looked back over his shoulder, snapping his head toward his two toadies. Apparently this was the signal to give him room to beat people into wallpaper paste because they both moved back. In desperation, I flicked my eyes up and down the hall again. We were alone. Just the four of us. Great.
I looked back at Duncan as he pulled me closer, folding his arms as though he was curling weights. The one I'd grabbed a hold of felt like iron. I bet Coach didn't call Duncan a sissy. I was close enough to see blond stubble on his chin. He needed a shave already and hadn't even left the school yet. Guess he was just that much more man than the rest of the males of the species.
"You're right," he said in a voice low enough that I was sure his two lookouts couldn't hear, "this isn't about Jean. This is about that Wagner kid, you little faggots. I've heard all about you two." His lips pulled back from his teeth in a grotesque parody of a grin. For the first time I was truly frightened. He waited for an answer without loosening his grip. He'd be waiting a hell of a long time, though, because I was shocked.
Just how freakin' hard is it to keep a damn secret, Kurt Wagner?
"I won't deny anything, Dunc," I said as calmly as I could. Hurry up, Lance. Maybe I could stall him with conversation, I thought. It was a nice idea, I guess. Too bad the message never made it to my mouth. "But before you turn me into a greasy spot on the floor, I'd like to point out that most homophobes are actually frightened because they've found something within themselves that they don't like. Tell me, which one of your friends have you found yourself attracted to?"
It probably goes without saying that I'd have been better off saying nothing at all.
He growled and banged me into the bank of lockers once, twice, three times. My lower back exploded in pain on the third impact. I think I managed to nail a combination dial with my stab wound. Good lord, that hurt like hell! My involuntary responses were to squeeze his arm a lot tighter and attempt to shriek at the top of my lungs. I'm sure you'd have done the same thing.
The shriek died in my throat. I could barely breathe as it was; I certainly had no breath to spare on something as useless as a scream. I stared, wide-eyed, at Duncan's face. Black spots were beginning to cloud my vision and I could feel panic building. Did this stop me from making another smart-assed remark?
Of course not.
"You planning to kiss me and make this feel better?" I squeezed out between breaths.
"Rot in hell, you little shit." Apparently that was a no. The next thing I knew, he slammed me back into the lockers with his full strength. I hit hard enough to see stars. In fact, I hit hard enough that my teeth hurt with the vibration. I felt a warm stickiness on the back of my skull and knew that he'd broken the skin. I giggled insanely. Good thing I was wearing a black shirt, huh?
I could hear, dimly anyway, running footsteps coming toward us. Someone in dress shoes, which made it an adult. Thank God. Duncan ignored the man's warnings to 'put the kid down!' and slammed me into the lockers again. My arms were starting to go numb from the shoulders down thanks to the repeated impacts. If I was going to do something, it would have to be quick.
Working by feel, since my vision was going loopy, I shifted my grip on his right arm. I grabbed his wrist and his elbow quicker than a thought and made my decision. He wasn't going to let go unless someone physically made him release me. That wasn't going to happen, so I'd have to do it myself. I inhaled as deeply as possible and then jerked the hand on his elbow in a quick motion inward. As expected, his elbow wasn't supposed to bend like that. The sound of his joint snapping was almost musical in my ears. Too bad it didn't work the way I'd planned.
Duncan yowled in rage, and his broken arm dropped away from me. Oh crud. He was left-handed, not right-handed. There was more than enough strength in his left arm for him to crush me into the lockers one final time. My head whipped back, causing my ears to ring as it hit the locker. I had a moment to wish I'd joined Lance in the bathroom before my bladder let go. Oddly, I was almost more embarrassed by pissing my shorts than by being ground into hamburger. Strange what goes through your mind during times of stress.
Everything happened in a rush after that. My vision was shot to hell and gone, but I felt a familiar brush of flannel and knew that Lance had entered the fray. There was shouting, but I wasn't really listening to any of it. My saviors somehow managed to get Duncan to release me and I slid down the locker door. It was an effort to get my arms up quickly enough to protect my head, but I managed. It still didn't stop me from blacking out. The last thing I remember was the ground rumbling underneath me as I hit the floor.
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To Be Continued.
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To My Reviewers:
Psygirl: If I kill off Magneto, who'd give the X-Men any grief? I mean, sooner or later the guy is going to make an appearance. (Chapter fourteen, maybe fifteen, in fact.) Otherwise there's no purpose for Xavier's creation of the X-Men in the first place, right?