=== I VANT TO DIRECT ===

Part 2:  Bobby the Kid

Kurt was absolutely unable to pay attention in school that day.  His entire brain was crammed with worries surrounding "The Legend of Sandy Gulch" --- especially the cast.  There were some bright spots, however.  Logan showed up hat in hand, insisted it was "Rogue's doing," and asked to try out.  He snarled appropriately, drew a prop gun like a pro, made excellent "beady eyes," and won the role of the head bandit.  But in the interest of fairness, Kurt had to audition the other two candidates for the role.  Sam "Cannonball" Guthrie had a good Southern drawl, but couldn't draw a prop gun or snarl to save his life.  And Jamie "Multiple" Madrox, a short, skinny sixth grader with a few zits and a squeaky voice, was just hilarious in all the wrong ways.  Kurt gave them the news that they hadn't made it, but appeased them --- Sam was quickly put in charge of set construction (probably a bad idea), and Jamie was asked to use his special talents to help with the crowd scenes.  They both agreed to this and walked away happy.

Then at about nine, he was making some notes when he heard a distinct quiet whirring noise and looked up.  There sat Professor Xavier, with a warm smile on his face, a page of dialogue in his hand, and the intention of auditioning.  After a few minutes of the professor reading the lines, it was clear that the narrator had arrived.

Well, at least something was going right.

~ X ~

"Evan, be careful viss za --- EVAN!"

- WHOMP -

- CRUNCH -

"Aw hell, boy, look where you're goin'!"

"Did you just call me BOY?" Evan asked, disgusted.  Sweat was dripping down his tawny forehead and into his big brown eyes.  He was heaving, holding up one end of a huge wooden post.  The middle of it was on the grass, broken off from the other end.

"Well ya are a boy!" Sam insisted, adjusting his baseball cap.  "Ain't like ah called ya a name, or nothin'!"

"Do you have any idea what 'boy' means to an upstanding black man, or are you just stupid?"

"Oh, shut up!  Both of you!" Kurt yelled.  He'd been holding the other end of the post.  After a quick sigh and a muttered German curse, he dropped it.  They'd need to bring in the spare.  "Vhere is Keety?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Hell if ah know," Sam said, squinting to the east.  "She's s'posta be here with the extra lumber.  Haulin' it in with Logan's old truck."

"Keety's driving?" Kurt asked, mortified.

Evan snickered.

It was Saturday, and set construction was underway.  Kurt left the broken post on the grass, grabbed a bottle of water, and poured the entire thing over his head.  He stood there in the sun, his tank top and shorts now clinging to his slim body, and sighed.  Evan came over --- too close.  Kurt shook himself off like a dog, peppering his friend with water, and wandered back to work, a hammer slipped into his belt, and a few nails tucked behind one elfish ear.  He was hot and tired from construction detail.  And now, on top of a broken post, he had the news that Kitty was behind the wheel.  He just prayed she got back quickly, because Kitty plus a vehicle equaled an accident looking to happen. 

On his way back he paused and looked at the set.  It was kind of exciting being here, actually.  About 30 miles from Bayville, on a plain pretty far from everything, was the remains of an 1850's town, mostly destroyed by a fire.  All the archaeological records and artifacts had already been salvaged, leaving just a bunch of burnt posts and house frames and what-not.  It was basically just a bunch of useless, forgotten, singed crapola.  But Kurt had gotten a tip from a local, wandered into the burnt-out main drag on Friday, and was seized by a brilliant idea. 

If they covered all the ingrown grass with gravel and sand, it could easily be the main street of some small Nevada city.  And better still, all of the frameworks on the drag were intact.  Kurt 'ported from structure to structure taking measurements and then had Scott chauffeur him to an art supply warehouse.  His eyes glittered as he stared at the huge reams of uncut canvas, and he dug around in his pocket for the credit card that Professor Xavier had loaned him for this project.  Everyone could work together to do a little reinforcement on the framework, paint canvas, cover the existing framework with it, et voilá!  Instant town! 

So with Sam as the crew-chief, nearly every available guy in the Institute was on the site, sweating and measuring and sawing and nailing in the noonday sun.  Conspicuously missing was Bobby, who was eating chips and learning lines back at the mansion.  But considering the number of disasters he managed to cause at home, it wasn't a big loss.  Things were coming together.  Guys were passing lumber, yelling out orders for nails, and tapping things into place with hammers.  The biggest bit of luck they had was that all they had to really "build" was a saloon, which was easy.  They already had the outside of it, as it was part of the main drag.  Based on the doorway, they dragged three logs around behind the façade and laid them out on the ground.  With the façade as one side, the logs made a big square on the grass.  Kurt and Scott brought in flat planks of wood and nailed them over the logs to make a sturdy floor, while Roberto and Ray drilled in two tall posts at the newly-created back corners. 

At about three, the room was taking shape.  Kurt shimmied up one of the posts, his fur glistening with sweat, and grabbed one end of a big bar of wood.  The other side was hoisted up by Sam, and they each nailed in their end of the bar to the posts.  Two other crossbeams connected the posts to the façade and now they had a cube.  Scott swung black drop cloth over the whole thing (no lights to hang), and they had a saloon.  Ray started cheering, "We finished the ba-ar!  We finished the ba-ar!" and swung Roberto around in a crazed square dance.  Sam and Kurt ignored this and moved on to the saloon doors.  Kurt had found them at a second-hand store on his way home from the art supply warehouse.  They nailed some fresh wood to the old, burned doorway, and attached the door hinges to the new wood. 

Scott, Sam, Ray, and Roberto stood back and stared at their door, which was looking pretty amazing, considering none of them were carpenters.  They nodded at Kurt.  He nodded back and inaugurated it.  Wearing nothing but shorts, his tool belt and a cowboy hat (yee ha!), he pushed open the saloon doors and padded into the street like a dusty rider, his eyes shaded with a stick of milkweed hanging out of his mouth, his thumbs hooked in his belt.  It was a hell of sight --- Evan took a picture.  The doors swung quieter than a prairie night and thwacked shut behind Kurt.  And they didn't fall off the doorframe!  A cheer went up.  Scott was giving delighted noogies right and left and Sam was jumping up and down and whistling.  Everybody was immensely proud of themselves.

But they still had loads to do, even with Hank, Logan, and little Jamie helping out on the other side with the reinforcement.  They still had to build porch supports, construct a sturdy balcony, and haul in an old bench that had been liberated from Ororo's garden.  She had yet to notice this.  And they still needed more wood.  By five o'clock, Kurt was sweaty and exhausted and ready to get back to the mansion to clean up and have dinner. 

He had almost forgotten about Kitty, until he heard it: ecstatic honking.  He ran around the corner.

It was a miracle.  Not only was the truck parked perfectly, but the back was full of wood, and there was nothing phased through it --- no phone booths, no street signs, nothing.  Not a scratch.  Kurt's mouth dropped open.  Kitty was sitting in the driver's seat, in overalls and a baseball cap, honking and waving and grinning at him.  He grinned back and ran over.

"Keety, did you do all ziss by yourself?"

"Yup!" she said cheerfully.  "What do you think?"

"It's great!  You didn't crash!  Vhat did you do?"

"Well, I just kinda went real slowly and carefully, cuz like, I didn't wanna drop any of the wood, right?  And I guess slowing down did it, because I didn't hit a single thing!  So I got here and I realized I didn't hit anything, and I was like, oh my God!  How cool is that!  So I honked.  Oooh, Mr. Logan's gonna be so proud of me!"

"Vell, I'm pretty proud of you, too."

She blushed.  "Hop on the back, Fuzzy!  I gotta pull this around."

"Sure!"

He hopped onto the back of the truck and bounced around gently with the lumber.  Kitty carefully maneuvered the truck into the center of "town."  And she didn't drop a stick.

~ X ~

The canvas covers for the framework were sporting their first coats of paint, and the quaint little town signs (made of particle board) were all being cut to the proper shapes and painted nicely by the other girls, who were smart enough to be doing their work at the mansion, inside the Blackbird's hangar, where they had space, light, and an AC.   The air was thick with the sounds of laughter and paint slopping.

"How are you all doing?" Jean Grey asked, sticking her head into the hangar at about seven.

"We're okay," Amara responded, turning her attention from the storefront she was sketching.  "But we could stand some dinner, though, right everybody?"

The gaggle of workers seemed to agree.  Jean was about to say that dinner was being served in the dining room, but she just stared.  The hanger might as well have been Santa's Workshop.  Jubilee was off somewhere learning lines, and Kitty was off helping the boys, but Amara, Rogue, Ororo and Rahne were all here, speckled with paint, working on the second facade.  The first was laid out on the ground in a few huge sections.  It was an enormous front with a dentist's office, a huge general store that took up most of the space, and a smithy.  The roof was another separate canvas. 

The "second floor" of the facade (which would eventually have a balcony) would sit on top of the dentist's office.  It was a brothel.  Why the brothel was on top of the dentist's office was anybody's guess, but Amara wasn't much of a city planner and she figured no one would be looking that closely anyway.  Besides, Rahne had gone a little crazy with the decoration, almost making up for its bizarre placement.  All the windows were dark, with little eyes peering out over flashes of lipstick. 

Then came the real fun --- naming the place.  Amara had suggested "Kinky's," but that was voted down.  In the end, they decided on "The Striped Tabby," an ode to the raucous, sexy Tabitha "Boom-Boom" Smith.  Everybody laughed their asses off for a few minutes and Rogue decided that Kurt would have to get a close-up of the brothel's sign, and that Tabitha would simply have to see the film. 

Their current project --- the facade with Tina's saloon, the bank, and the post office --- was still only in the sketching phase, although the porch canopy was finished.  All they needed were the boys' supports to hang it.  Rogue flipped a bang out of her face and kept going over Amara's light pencil marks with charcoal.  A few paces behind her, Ororo was following with some paint.  Rahne was taking a moment to stretch.  She would be leaving soon, to see if she could bang out some more costumes.  Kurt had liked her designs, and she'd already started sewing the night before, stopping off at a fabric store on her way home from school.  Everyone had been working like greased lightning since nine in the morning.  With four workers on the floor and Jean popping in to help whenever she could, they had made so much progress that Sunday's work would be a breeze.

"Uh, dinner's ready," Jean managed, and then, "Wow!"

The girls giggled and went to clean up. 

~ X ~

"So Kurt, I have some suggestions for this scene.  I was thinking that maybe you might want to do a brief re-write here."

"Vhat?  Vhy?"

"Because, well, I dunno.  I was reading it through last night, and the sheriff just seems so … stilted."

Kurt moaned and flopped onto his bed.  "Sco-ott!"

"What?"

"You are za script supervisor.  Do you know vhat zat means?"

"Yeah.  I work with the script."

"Nein.  It means you verk viss uzzer people who verk viss za script.  You ah a coach, not za writer.  Capiche?"

There was only silence, and Kurt sat up to get a look.  Scott was just staring at him, looking lost and a little sad.

"I was just trying to help," he said softly.

Nothing like a good dose of guilt late at night.  Kurt was ready to go to bed.  He did not need this right now.  He gave a long-suffering sigh and motioned Scott over.  "Let me see."

The argument went on and on.  They were going over the script and discussing the pivotal scene when Jean came floating in, tangled up in some wiring and holding a large lamp structure. 

"Uh, Kurt?  You've worked lights in school plays and stuff, right?"

"Um, ja," he said, looking up at her.  "Vhy?"

"Well, is that anything like lighting for a film?"

He just blinked at her.  "Not in za slightest.  Jean, I sought you said you knew vhat you vere doing!"

Jean looked kind of embarrassed and bit her lip.  "Yeah, I thought I did too."

Kurt put his face in his hands.

~ X ~

Kitty was cradling the phone with one shoulder and talking to Lance while simultaneously dragging some chairs out of the kitchen.

"No!  Lance, I'm honestly stuck here every day for the next few days working on Kurt's…  Shut up, you moron, that's not funny! … … It's a Western. … Yep, that's what I said! …  Kurt's not the sheriff, he's the director."  She bumped her way out of the kitchen, barely missing swinging a chair leg into a wall.  "Stop laughing!  …  Yeah.  No.  NO, Lance!"  She laughed.  "Bye!"  Hanging up the phone with one hand and putting a chair down with the other, she made for the kitchen again.

Her science project was out of the cupboard and sitting on the counter.  She'd taken it out to grab some dishes for use on the saloon's tiny table, and was just getting some cups when Jubilee waltzed in, wearing a plush bathrobe and fluffy slippers, looking fresh and coiffed and decidedly the opposite of Kitty, who was flecked with paint and dirt from helping make the facades and hauling lumber all day.

"Hi sweetie, how goes it?" Jubilee said easily, opening the refrigerator to grab the bottle of orange juice.  "How are all the behind-the-scenes people doing?"

"We're all fine," Kitty replied. 

She was a little annoyed.  Her brain was fizzling from all the activity that day and here was Jubilee, normally a minor player in the household, acting like she owned the place.  Kitty sighed, and without a thought, tossed her science project pudding in the fridge.  The container skidded along the shelf and bumped into the back wall.  The "don't eat me" sticker fell off. 

"Speaking of fine, like, where the heck were you?  We really could have used your help 'behind the scenes,' or whatever you said." 

Jubilee gave a small, false laugh.  "Darling, I'm the lead.  I'm strictly on-camera.  What if I helped with those heavy beams and something fell on me?"  She gave a little innocent pout.

Kitty leaned against the counter and raised an incredulous brown eyebrow.  "You're like, kidding, right?"

~ X ~

And so the weekend flew by in a flurry of amateur carpentry, hot dog lunches, painting, sewing, writing, rehearsing, and trips to the hardware store.  Things had reached a fevered pitch by Sunday night.  The mansion was full of confused people running into each other with fabric and microphones and shouting at each other for water bottles and light fixtures, packing things up to drag out to the set on Monday.  It was complete chaos.  Professor Xavier stayed out of it mostly, staying in his office taking care of school business and learning his lines.  He was just happy that no "situations" had surfaced otherwise Kurt's film would have been dead in the water. 

As it was, the boy had taken an incredibly stupid risk by inviting everyone at the Institute to participate.   He had builders who couldn't build (Evan), actors who couldn't act (Bobby and Jubilee), and "volunteers" who were clearly driving him up the wall (Scott and Jean).  But it didn't seem prudent to mention any of this.  Kurt was looking more haggard with each passing day, but the boy had been so excited that his teacher had even agreed to let him make the film that he was determined to complete it. 

Charles glanced at his lines one more time before he sensed someone at the door.

"Come in, Rahne," he said.

Rahne trotted in.  "Hullo, Professor," the Scottish girl said.  "Just a final costume check.  I got ya a nice wig, but ya do have a pair of jeans, a botton shert, and some boots lyin' around, right?"

The professor smiled.  "Indeed I do."

"Excellent!  That saves me some work!  Ah'm so busy with Miss Tina's dress right now, ah haven't a minute ta spare.  And o' course, tisn't like 'Miss Tina' is bein' of any help at all," she growled.

"Pardon?"

She sighed.  "Jubilee's gone Hollywood!"

"Gone Hollywood?  How so?"

"Aye asked fer her help, on her own costume, an' she said…"  Rahne went into her Betty Davis impression, which, if you can imagine a small Scottish girl trying to do Betty Davis, was pretty funny.  "… Sorry darlin', but ah'm an actress now.  We don't DO costumes."  She snapped out of it.  "Can you believe tha'?  Ah put in all this work painting sets, and now ah'm the head costumer, and Jubes is carrying on like she's Britney Spears or somethin'!  She's no' even any good!  She doesn't ha' the right to act like such a diva!"

The professor could say nothing.  He just closed his eyes in simple horror, because Jubilee had come from nowhere and was standing in the doorway.  Rahne huffed and puffed for a minute.  She finally settled down and looked at the professor.  Then she turned around and all the color drained out of her face.  Jubilee, on the other hand, had turned an interesting shade of purple.

"How … dare … you," she said, starting to spark up.

"Oh dear," the professor mumbled, looking for some cover.

Rahne stuck out her chest and stood her ground. 

"Who the hell are you to talk about being any good?" Jubilee snarled, advancing on the Scot.  Her voice could have burned a hole through steel.  "You sat there and smiled while Amara, in all her wisdom, asked you to paint a freakin' brothel on top of a dentist's office!  And the only reason you're doing anything at all is because you were too chicken to audition, and then you whined at Kurt until he asked you to draw some lousy pictures for him!"

"Tha' is completely untrue!" Rahne snarled.  "An' wha' in tha hell are yew complainin' about? Yew were sittin' an yer pansy ass eatin' bonbons while tha rest o' us were werkin' our fingars ta tha bone!  Take tha' back!"

"I will not!" Jubilee shrieked.

"Take tha' back, gerl, or ah swear ta God, ah'll rip your costume to shreds!  With me teeth!" Rahne hollered, morphing into her midway form and brandishing her claws.

"Oh good!  Then I can look like a whore!  And since I work on top of a freakin' dentist's office, I can hand out free toothbrushes!"

"VILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?!"

Everyone looked startled and stared at the doorway.  Kurt was standing there, tapping one furry foot and looking utterly disgusted.  "Vhat za hell is za matter viss you two?"

Behind the girls, the professor sighed in relief.

"Vell?"

Rahne and Jubilee looked at the floor.  When they glanced up again, an extremely irritated blue furry guy was still staring them down, expecting an answer.

"She started it," Rahne said finally, pointing a claw at Jubilee.

"WHAT?!"

"Zat's enough.  Rahne, you're doing a great job.  And Jubilee, you're also doing a great job.  Now vhat I need is a progress report.  Costumes?" he finished, looking at Rahne, who looked sheepish and morphed back into herself.

"Everyone has things ta wear, but I had to go to a thrift store and pick up some long skirts fer all of us gerls today.  And Miss Tina's costume is almost done.  Ah jest need her to come to my room fer a final fittin'."

"Ser guht."  He looked at the girls, who seemed a lot calmer.  "Now can ve all go back to verk vissout killing each uzzer?"

"Yeah," they mumbled.

"Good.  Get to it.  I haff to find Keety."

The girls left with nary a peep.  Kurt and the professor caught each other's eye.  The professor smiled.  Kurt nodded.  He 'ported off to check on something else.

~ X ~

Monday arrived, and with it, the promise of shooting that afternoon.  Kitty had loaded down Logan's truck with plenty of stuff to put inside the saloon.  Jean was filling the back of her SUV with lighting equipment.  Her eyes were red-rimmed from cramming Film Lighting for Dummies the night before.  Thanks to Rahne's efforts, Scott's trunk was full of dresses and hats.  He just hoped nobody pulled him over.  The canvas covers, all dry and ready to go, were folded neatly in the trunk of Ororo's van.  At about noon, Hank was filling the back seat with edibles --- sandwiches, juice, water, spare food in big Igloo containers, and a tent contraption that they could work under and not get nailed by the sun.  

And at school, tensions were running high.  Most of the other directors in Kurt's film class looked like wrecks, and they hadn't even started shooting yet.  Kurt looked the best of any of them.  But then again, the Kurt that everyone saw was a hologram.  His stomach was doing flip-flops and he was too nervous to hold a fork, let alone eat.  Kitty was nibbling on her egg salad sandwich and glancing back and forth between Scott, Kurt, and Jean, who looked bad, worse, and exhausted, respectively.  At another table, Bobby was sitting down to lunch with Jubilee.  She was eating some heated rice and vegetables, and looking at him with interest. 

"I've got a treat today!" he said, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh, yeah?  What?"

"Something to give me macho-man strength for my role as the brave sheriff!" he said, waggling his eyebrows and pulling out a piece of Tupperware from his brown bag.

He'd snagged something untouched and delightful from the mansion's refrigerator.

Pudding.

~ TO BE CONTINUED! ~