Chapter 2: Interesting Introductions
Mickie wrinkled her nose. Not bad. The room had a single twin bed, desk, small dresser, mirror on top of the dresser, a chair in the corner, and a door off to the side of the bed that led to a small half-bath, which contained a toilet and a sink. There was a tiny standing shower stall, and Mickie eyed it wistfully. It had been a month since she had been able to take a hot shower. She missed the feel of warm water pounding her skin, the smell of soap and shampoo, and that lazy, relaxed feeling that came after a good hot shower. She had followed her cat instincts and groomed herself, but the feel of fur stuck to her tongue was distinctly unpleasant. And hairballs; forget it. Her mother had dosed her with hairball-relief medicine the first time she'd experienced a hairball, and she wasn't going to repeat the experience. Now she licked water to clear her mouth of hair while she was grooming herself.
She was just lucky that she'd chosen the shape of an ordinary housecat, rather than, say, a Himalayan or other long-haired breed. All that hair. Yech. She made a face.
"Would yah like me tah unpack for ya?"
Mickie shook her head. She had no need for clothes. What she did want was her litter box. She nudged the other suitcase, the one with her 'food' and litter and litter box in it, and Rogue opened the suitcase. She felt extremely peculiar pouring out kitty litter into a litter box for someone who wasn't really a cat, but decided that laughing would probably not be the best way to gain Mickie's friendship.
"This is mah wing, so Ah'm responsible fer yah," Rogue said, smiling. "Ah'll come check your box every morning till you're out of cat form, an' Ah'll clean it. Anything else yah need?"
Mickie jerked her head. Just put the box in the bathroom and shut the door, please! she begged desperately. I have to go. I really, really have to go. To her relief the woman put the box down in the bathroom, and Mickie darted in gratefully, pushing the door shut with her paws before racing to the box. She closed her eyes, sighing as she emptied her little cat body, then jumped at the knob, gripping it with her paws and twisting. The knob turned, and she dropped to the floor as the door opened. She sauntered out, waving her tail, and found the woman wasn't alone in the bedroom. A man had joined her; tall, handsome featured, with cinnamon hair and unusual eyes, and the most mouthwatering physique Mickie had ever seen on a man. Mmmm. She wondered if he was one of the teachers; if he was she was going to make absolutely certain that she enrolled in every class he taught!
Neither teacher had noticed Mickie's exit from the bathroom. She sat on the floor, wrapping her tail around her front paws, and listened to them talk.
"So what'd yah get me f'r mah birthday?" Rogue asked.
"Eh, non, chere," the man replied, and Mickie closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. Husky, with a slightly seductive edge to it…for some reason the voice reminded her of melted chocolate. "If Remy tell you what he get you for your birt'day, it not goin' to be a surprise." Oh, Mickie could go to sleep listening to that voice. She allowed herself to slump forward, in what her mother called her bread-loaf position, and fixed her unblinking blue eyes on the tall man.
"But Ah wanna know!"
The man chuckled, the sound playing arpeggios on Mickie's spine, from the base of her skull down to the end of her tail and back. "Non. Remy goin' to make you wait, chere." He turned to leave, and then caught sight of Mickie, on the floor.
"Hello. What's dis?" without waiting for Rogue's answer, he bent and scooped Mickie up from the floor, cradling her in his arms. Mickie smelled the cologne he wore, smelled the good, quality leather of his gloves, and rolled her head as his fingers scratched the back of her head, just behind the ears, in that odd little itchy spot…Oh, gosh. She melted in his arms, closing her eyes, and then started to purr.
Rogue was laughing so hard she had to sit on the bed. Remy looked at her, puzzled, and Mickie shot her a dirty look. Don't tell him, she silently admonished the older woman. I'm having too much fun right here in his arm…oooh, yes, right there, that's the itchy spot, yes…oh, my god, I am in LOVE with this man…her eyes closed as the hands started scratching her tummy. A little further down, please…
But Rogue pulled herself together and said, still chuckling, "Remy, meet our new student, Mickie Thompson. Mickie, this is Remy LeBeau. He teaches Atomic Physics."
Pleased to meet you. Verrry pleased to meet you. Atomic physics, huh? Oh, well, at least there will be something about that class worth looking at.
Remy looked at the cat, at Rogue, and back at the black cat. "You jokin', chere. Please say you jokin'." He sounded like a man desperately trying to believe the sand under his feet was solid rock.
"Nope. Not jokin'. Would Ah lie ta yah?"
"Did Bobby talk you int' doin' dis practical joke?" Remy stopped fondling Mickie. Mickie opened her blue eyes and looked at Rogue. Stop. Please stop. Before he puts me down and I stop being able to feel those rock hard abs against my ribs…
But Rogue didn't stop. "Naw, Mickie is a shapeshifter. She shifted int' the form of a cat, an' couldn't get changed back, so her parents brought her heah f'r Charles to help her."
Just then, another head poked into the room, and Mickie lookd into the eyes of a shorter but no less muscular man. His brown eyes widened as he gave an audible sniff, then he said, "Gumbo, 'less ya wanna add a little shapeshiftin' cat-girl ta the list o' women who follow ya around, ya better put her down."
Remy put Mickie down on the floor, quite hastily. Mickie snarled at the man in the door, who was now leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face, and then at Rogue, curled up helplessly on the bed laughing. Then she sidled up to the man, put her paw on his ankle, and meowed once, deliberately, pitifully. He looked down at her, but didn't pick her up. She meowed again. He gave her one last look, flushed, mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and fled the room.
DANGITDANGITDANGIT! Mickie almost screamed in frustration in her mind. What'd you have to go ruin it for! Couldn't you have told him later?
"Told him what later, dear?" came a new voice. And Mickie looked up, seeing in the doorway a woman with unbelievably deep green eyes and hair like living fire. "Rogue? Is this Mickie?"
"Yes," Rogue said. "Mickie, Ah'm sorry, Ah jus' thought Ah'd warn him 'fore he dug himself in a hole…"
"A very deep one," said the man by the door. "Remy was pettin' the new girl, Jean. Didn' know he was doin' it, neither. Thought she was a pet. Shoulda seen the look on his face!" And he chuckled too.
Jean sighed. "Hello, Mickie. I'm Jean Summers, I teach psychology here at the institute. I'm also a telepath. If there's ever anything you need to tell someone, let me know and I'll tell them for you until we get your shapeshifting straightened out. This is Mr. Logan, he teaches martial arts and self-defense classes."
What I want is for you to tell the other guy to come back and finish scratching my tummy! Mickie howled indignantly.
I won't do that, sorry, came Jean's voice in her head. Remy and Rogue…Marie…are going out right now. And you're only fifteen, it wouldn't be right.
Mickie hissed in displeasure, twitched her tail irritably, and sat down, picking up a paw and beginning to wash it. Just for something to do, so they'd all think she was ignoring them, and so they'd know she was upset with them. She didn't look up again until Rogue and Logan had gone, and Jean was the only one left. Jean closed the door quietly, then sat down on the bed and laughed. I do wish I'd seen Remy's face.
Mickie chuckled quietly, relenting. Yeah, it was pretty funny. She giggled, then sighed. As much as I hate to bother anyone, I am getting a little hungry.
Jean reached for the open suitcase, took out a can of cat food and the plastic bowls Mickie always ate out of. She popped open the top of the cat food, and started to upend it into the bowl, then stopped and gave it a sniff. "You eat this stuff?"
Not willingly! was Mickie's tart response. But other things upset my stomach.
Jean thought. "We had roast chicken last night," she said. "I think there might be some left. If I leave off the gravy do you think you could eat that?"
Mickie sprang off the bed. Lead the way!
There were two other people in the kitchen when Jean and Mickie came in. One was a boy…well, he wasn't old enough to be one of the teachers, though he was clearly not a student…with sandy-brown hair and a bright smile, the other was a young Asian girl, maybe a year younger than Mickie herself. They were sitting over the kitchen table, eating bowls of ice cream and talking in low voices over a sheet of paper on the tabletop. When they saw Jean come in, they whisked the paper out of sight. The bowls of ice cream suddenly became the most interesting thing in the universe.
Jean opened the refrigerator and took out the chicken, then put it down on the kitchen table and began stripping the bones of their meat. "What was it," she said finally, tranquilly.
"What was what?" the two kids looked up at her with wide innocent eyes. Mickie started laughing. She had seen that same expression on her own face when she was about to pull a major practical joke on her parents. These two were planning something.
"That drawing." Mickie watched as the red-haired woman twitched the drawing telekinetically out from behind the boy's back. Her mother had told her the school was for mutants, and the teachers were likely to be mutants too, but it was still a mild surprise to see the teacher use telekinesis.
"It's nothing, its just stupid scribbles," the boy said, flushing hastily. Jean eyed the drawing, and Mickie jumped up on the table, to see it better. It looked like a motorcycle, but with some odd squiggles all over it Mickie couldn't quite figure out.
"And what would you be doing with a drawing of Scott's bike?" Jean looked disapproving as she crumpled the drawing up and dropped it in the trashcan. Neither kid answered; they were both staring at Mickie. Mickie sat down on the table, opened her eyes quite wide, then drew her lips back from her teeth in the closest thing she could manage to a smile.
"This is our new student, Mickie Thompson. She's a shapeshifter. Her parents brought her here so Charles could help her change back."
"This is a joke, right?" The boy was looking at Mickie speculatively.
Jean sighed and picked up the bowl of cold chicken pieces. "I am not a practical joker like you, Bobby." She crossed the kitchen and put the bowl in the microwave, heating it. The microwave beeped, and she took the bowl out, putting it in front of Mickie, sitting on the table waiting. "Here you are, Mickie. Now you three introduce yourselves while I go see what Scott wants."
There was silence in the kitchen for a moment, then the boy said, "Hi. I'm Bobby. Bobby Drake."
The girl licked a dab of ice cream from her nose and said, "I'm Jubilee."
Mickie tilted her head, checking for the sound of any adult footfalls, then went to the trashcan. She perched on the edge of the counter and batted the ball of white paper out of the top, then jumped off the counter and picked it up in her teeth before jumping back onto the kitchen table. Ignoring the bowl of chicken, she dropped the paper in front of the boy.
"You want to know what this is?" Mickie nodded. "You can't tell anyone else. Promise?" she nodded vigorously. "We're going to sneak out to the garage tonight and booby-trap Scott's bike. Uh, Scott is Jean's husband. He's like, the Assistant Principal here."
A booby-trap? This sounded fun. Mickie moved over to the other side of the table and studied the drawing as Bobby and Jubilee started discussing their plan with her.
When Jean came down ten minutes later, she found three empty bowls, two with spoons stuck in puddles of half-eaten melted ice cream, and one licked clean of chicken. She sighed and took the empty bowls to the sink, rinsed them, and left the kitchen.
She didn't think to check the trash for that discarded drawing.