Chapter 12: Why?
Disclaimer:
mine: Alexander McAllister and company, a very cool Swiss Army knife that includes 2 screwdrivers, a chisel AND a saw, my dignity (well, mostly)
not mine: any and all X-Men canon characters, a 2005 Toyota Prius, Mr. Darcy...sadly
.......................
As great as it was to know that Anita was fine with who I was, I still couldn't face the thought of going to school the next day. The Professor agreed, and so I found myself sitting in the rec room flipping channels while everyone else was at school. Which is why I had the joy of answering the phone whenever it rang.
One wouldn't expect the student line to ring a whole lot during the school day, but some internet site had gotten a hold of our number, and consequently, I was faced with an abundance of reporters and protesters all wanting to talk to me. All I did was hang up.
After five such calls in twenty minutes, I was about to pull the phone off the receiver, but the next call was listed as Bayville HS on the caller id. I didn't exactly want to talk to them either, but I had a feeling I shouldn't ignore their calls.
"Hello, Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth. How may I help you?"
"Is Alexander McAllister there?" It sounded like one of the school receptionists.
"Um...not really," I lied. "May I take a message?" I didn't really feel like talking to the school receptionist.
"This is Principal Kelly's office calling. We currently have an unexcused absence for Mr. McAllister. Unless he produces a doctor's note, his absence today will result in a suspension."
I rolled my eyes. Was she kidding? People had unexcused absences all time, and I'd never heard of someone getting suspended.
I hung up the phone and went to find Dr. McCoy to forge me a note, and since both Ms. Munroe and Logan were too busy to deliver it, I hopped on my bike and left out a back entrance of the institute so as to avoid the small crowd of anti-mutant protesters at our gates.
Fortunately, I arrived at school during a class, so I didn't run into any students as I made my way to the principal's office. I pushed open the door to the main office room and made my way to the receptionist's desk.
"I've got a note to give to Principal Kelly," I said.
She reached for a pen and a pad of paper. "I can give it to him. What's your name?"
"Alex McAllister."
There was an awkward silence in the room as she stopped all activity and stared at me. If this was going to happen every time someone realized who I was, I'd probably snap in a week.
Then again, that would just prove I was a vicious monster, wouldn't it?
"Principal Kelly told me to send you in if you came yourself." She pointed at a door on the other side of the room, and then watched me like I was a convicted criminal as I walked toward the principal's door and knocked.
I got no answer, so I focused my vision past the door and into the room, where I saw the principal pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. I knocked once more as I opened the door and slipped in. He didn't seem to notice me until the door latched closed.
"How'd you get in here?" he barked.
"Um..." I started, "your door was unlocked, and as there was no one else in here, I assumed--"
"How did you know I was alone?" Was he that stupid?
"Well, if you can't figure out how I did that, we can just ignore the whole thing and go home. Alright?"
"You used your powers, didn't you? You willfully and knowingly invaded my privacy."
I rolled my eyes—not that he could tell—and sighed. "I looked through your door to make sure you weren't meeting with someone else or on the phone or something. Even if you had been with someone else, it's not like I could've heard what you were saying. I don't have sensitive hearing, remember?" His paranoia made me seriously wonder, though. Did he do anything he wouldn't want others to see when he was alone in his office? Disturbing images of the principal jacking off behind his desk filled my mind. Ew.
He paused for a moment, apparently recalculating his argument. When he did speak, it was in a more even tone. I think he'd managed to get control over his fears, more or less.
"Though I'm sure you would argue, Mr. McAllister, that you are not a threat to the school community, your unhesitant use of your powers proves you otherwise. I think it would be appropriate, then, if we suspended—"
"Wait a minute, you can't suspend me because I used my powers. That's like kicking me out because I'm too short or something."
"On the contrary, Mr. McAllister," he was turning red now, but still working on keeping an even voice, "your total disregard for my right to privacy is reason enough for me. If you have no problem with looking into my office, how are we to know you aren't cheating on tests or peeping into the girl's locker room?"
"Oh, and regular students never cheat on tests? I am the least of your worries in that category, sir."
"All I have is your word on that, McAllister, and in your case, it just isn't good enough. I can keep regular students under control, but with mutants, we cannot be so sure." He spat out the word like it was a piece of filth. "I know what you're capable of, and I'm going to go to every length possible to preserve the school community from this threat."
It was worthless arguing with this man; it was time to give up.
"Here's my doctor's note," I said, shoving it into his hand. "At least I won't get suspended for missing school today." I stormed out of his office.
..................
"Why did you do that?" was all I could ask my father when I found out what he had done to Alex. Not that he told me himself. Oh no, that would be too easy for Zander McAllister. I found out while driving to school with my carpool. It was a minor headline, nestled between an announcement about rising oil prices and unrest in the Middle East, but it pretty clearly identified my father as the politician with a mutant son. As soon as the Morning Edition host read it, the car went from that kind of sleepy, inattentive silence to an awkward silence involving a lot of staring. At me.
"What?" I had asked. I think I was hoping the radio had announced something else, like the latest Redskins loss.
"Your brother's a mutant?" So much for pretending it didn't happen. That came from Clare, who wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she knew this was a big deal. Big enough for her to spread it around the whole school by the end of second period.
Sure enough, by lunchtime, every girl in St. Anne's Prep knew that Alex was a mutant, and all I wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position to avoid the endless questions.
After an entire day of "Did you know?" "Is he safe?" and "Is that why he got expelled from St. Asaph's?" I had more than a few questions of my own, which is why I was standing in the middle of my father's office, interrupting his phone call.
"Yeah, hold on Mitch." He turned his chair to face me, his cell phone still plastered to his ear. "Nora, can you please wait until I'm off the phone with my campaign manager? I've got to go back to Washington tomorrow, and I need to clear some stuff up with him before I leave."
I couldn't believe he was doing this, but I knew better than to keep bothering him while he was on the phone. As he wrapped up his conversation about sympathy votes and rising polls, I paced the family room, fuming.
"Nora, honey, I know you're probably upset about--"
"Upset?" I cut him off before he could even get started with his total BS. "I'm surprised you even noticed I'm upset. I'm surprised you even bothered to get off the phone with your campaign manager to see why I'm upset. Honestly, Dad, it's like I don't exist when it's election season."
"Oh come on, honey, I've just got a lot on my plate right now. You know it's a close election and I can't afford to lose this. I'm a public servant; I serve the people of Washington, and because of that we have to make certain sacrifices—"
"Like telling the whole world Alex is a mutant?"
He had to have known it was coming, and yet he still seemed surprised to hear it. He decided to change tactics.
"They knew, Nora. Those crank phone calls we've been getting weren't just bored neighborhood kids, they were from someone who knew what was going on."
"A month of crank phone calls doesn't mean you can go ahead and out him on national TV."
"Would you rather your brother be in the Weekly World News? I've at least spared him from that."
"And stuck him on the front page of the Washington Post! It may be a better paper, but that doesn't save him from knowing that his father destroyed any sense of security and privacy that he could possibly have because it would get him better press coverage." Tears welled up in my eyes and I started to yell, losing any control over the argument that had been fuming in my head all day. "You've boiled him down to a political move, Dad. You're just going to sacrifice him so you can get reelected and pass that stupid bill!"
He didn't have a comeback for that; there was no smooth and easy way to reason away what I'd just said. He seemed to crumple from the inside, his normally confident air fading as he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands.
He looked defeated, shrunken—like I'd never seen him before. He was always the commanding father figure, the one who'd tuck you into bed at night, but wasn't afraid to ground you for a month, but now, he'd given up. He had frozen on national TV and forced himself into making a career move that had made his kids hate him, and there was nothing he could do; he was stuck. Having lectured us at length on the importance of honesty and openness to the public, he had finally crossed the line, and he knew it. He knew it, and I had a feeling he didn't like it.
.......................
It was really weird, being suspended. Granted, I was not exactly the headmistress's favorite at St. Asaph's, but I'd never been suspended. I was under the impression that, in most places, suspension takes a lot. Here, though, I'd been suspended for opening a door.
It was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard of. What is wrong with schools when people get expelled for being themselves? This was as bad as don't ask, don't tell.
Today was about as fun as yesterday. Why did he have to do this? What on earth could have possessed my father to announce my genes on national television? Wasn't he trying to keep this quiet?
I really needed to vent to someone who would understand me. Bobby would have been the ideal candidate, since he lived with me and consequently couldn't hide in his room. Sadly, though, he was still at school, serving a detention he'd gotten yesterday. Pretty much everyone else was doing work or at sports practice or something; if I wanted to yell at someone about my father, I wasn't going to find them here.
But then there was Nora. My little sister was great for venting sessions. She could put up with an inordinate amount of crap, and due to her wonderful lack of tact, she had no reservations about telling it like it is. She would be perfect.
I picked up the phone and dialed home, hoping that Dad would be at a committee meeting or even better, off campaigning. I may have wanted to talk to my sister badly, but I wanted to avoid our father as much as possible.
"Hello, you've reached the McAllister residence. If you are from any of the following types of organizations: ABC, NBC, CBS or any local affiliates, any and all cable news stations, The Washington Post, Washington Times, Fairfax Journal or any other newspaper, tabloid, or print publication, any and all radio stations, websites, or nosy neighbors, please hang up now."
I stayed on the line, but didn't say anything. It was Nora speaking, but I couldn't tell if it was recorded; my sister liked to change the answering machine a lot. After a few seconds, though, I heard her voice again.
"If you fall into none of these categories, then, hello, Nora McAllister speaking."
"Nora?" Apparently it wasn't a recording.
"Oh my God! Alex!" I held the phone away from my ear to endure her shrieks.
"Ssh! Is Dad there?" I asked. I was pretty sure he would be gone, but I wasn't taking any chances.
"No, he's gone to a party fundraiser. He won't be home until late."
"Thank God. The last thing I need is to talk to him."
"I'm not sure if he'd actually talk about it. I blew up at him yesterday, and he hasn't mentioned it since then."
"Nothing?"
"Um, yeah. Nothing."
I plopped down on the rec room couch and grabbed the remote while we kept talking. "So, how's everything else going?" I asked.
"Ok," she said. I think the events of the last two days had largely drawn her attention away from other things, so coming up with stuff to talk about wasn't exactly easy. "Ooh, our soccer team won our league championship," she finally remembered.
"That's great," I told her while I flipped the TV on. "Is your coach still..."
I trailed off. There, on the high definition, full color, wide screen TV was my father, standing in front of our house, giving a press conference.
"There are people in this world, humans and mutants alike, who mean us harm," he said. "The humans we can deal with; we have locks and alarms to keep us safe. But what can you do about a mutant? We can't know how to protect our communities until we know what the danger is. Wouldn't you want to know if you were living near a telepath? What kind of extra precautions would you take if there were someone who could walk through walls in your neighborhood? The Mutant Registration Act is about protecting the communities and families that have a right to know when there is a possible danger to their safety. I'm not saying that all mutants are a threat to our lives, but we have a right to know what might be a threat out there."
He kept going. I just watched, open-mouthed.
"Alex?"
My sister was still on the phone.
"Nora, what did you mean by 'nothing' when you told me about Dad's response to your fight with him?" I quietly asked.
"Well," she said, "he hasn't talked about you with me."
"Oh," I said, "with you. Well, I'm glad he's not talking about me with someone, because he appears to be on CNN right now, on our front steps, talking about me with everyone."
"Oh." She said. "They must be replaying the second press conference."
"The second press conference? There was more than one?"
"Um...yeah. He gave one yesterday afternoon which was really fast, and then one this morning that was more of an official one. The one yesterday was at his office, though, not at our house."
"I can't believe he's doing this. I thought he wanted to keep things quiet."
"Well, he did," she replied, "but then people found out, so now he's talking his way out of it."
I groaned. Did he have to do this?
"It's all one big political move, Alex. He's reshaping his televised mistake into a full-fledged campaign maneuver."
"Televised 'mistake'? That's a nice way to put it, Nora."
"Oh, come on," she said, "I don't think he did it on purpose. He was terrified someone was going to leak it. We've been getting threatening calls for a month now."
"Oh come on, he's a politician; someone's always threatening him with something. One would think that by now he'd have learned to ignore it."
"Don't be so hard on him." She was nearing tears now. "He's been under a lot of pressure what with the campaign and all, and I think he just cracked. Some of those Sunday news shows can get vicious. He was trying to maintain his credibility by preempting any rumors that would force him to pull a Bill Clinton."
That was too much for me. How could she take his side? "I am not Monica Lewinsky. He is not the president. I am NOT some embarrassment he needs to hide from the public! I AM HIS SON, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"
I slammed the phone down into its receiver.
.............
I realize it has been quite awhile since I've updated...All I can say is I am Very, Very Sorry. 20 credits, 2 plays and orchestra is not a good idea for one semester--'nuff said. It's summer though, and so despite the fact that I'm working 3 jobs, I think I'll be slightly more productive. Jobs don't give grades, after all.
Many thanks go to Risty, my lovely beta reader, for, well, beta-reading this chapter. Many thanks as well to those who have read and reviewed in the past. I really do appreciate feedback.
And now for something completely different:
I have a new story (well, newer than this one, anyway). It's an AU fic about Kitty and her life if she hadn't been picked up by the X-Men, although they definitely figure in there. It's headed in an interesting Lancitty direction. Check it out if you feel so inclined.
And on yet another note, REGISTER TO VOTE (those of you who can)-if you don't vote, you can't complain, and isn't that what America is built on? Go to for more information.
Disclaimer:
mine: Alexander McAllister and company, a very cool Swiss Army knife that includes 2 screwdrivers, a chisel AND a saw, my dignity (well, mostly)
not mine: any and all X-Men canon characters, a 2005 Toyota Prius, Mr. Darcy...sadly
.......................
As great as it was to know that Anita was fine with who I was, I still couldn't face the thought of going to school the next day. The Professor agreed, and so I found myself sitting in the rec room flipping channels while everyone else was at school. Which is why I had the joy of answering the phone whenever it rang.
One wouldn't expect the student line to ring a whole lot during the school day, but some internet site had gotten a hold of our number, and consequently, I was faced with an abundance of reporters and protesters all wanting to talk to me. All I did was hang up.
After five such calls in twenty minutes, I was about to pull the phone off the receiver, but the next call was listed as Bayville HS on the caller id. I didn't exactly want to talk to them either, but I had a feeling I shouldn't ignore their calls.
"Hello, Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth. How may I help you?"
"Is Alexander McAllister there?" It sounded like one of the school receptionists.
"Um...not really," I lied. "May I take a message?" I didn't really feel like talking to the school receptionist.
"This is Principal Kelly's office calling. We currently have an unexcused absence for Mr. McAllister. Unless he produces a doctor's note, his absence today will result in a suspension."
I rolled my eyes. Was she kidding? People had unexcused absences all time, and I'd never heard of someone getting suspended.
I hung up the phone and went to find Dr. McCoy to forge me a note, and since both Ms. Munroe and Logan were too busy to deliver it, I hopped on my bike and left out a back entrance of the institute so as to avoid the small crowd of anti-mutant protesters at our gates.
Fortunately, I arrived at school during a class, so I didn't run into any students as I made my way to the principal's office. I pushed open the door to the main office room and made my way to the receptionist's desk.
"I've got a note to give to Principal Kelly," I said.
She reached for a pen and a pad of paper. "I can give it to him. What's your name?"
"Alex McAllister."
There was an awkward silence in the room as she stopped all activity and stared at me. If this was going to happen every time someone realized who I was, I'd probably snap in a week.
Then again, that would just prove I was a vicious monster, wouldn't it?
"Principal Kelly told me to send you in if you came yourself." She pointed at a door on the other side of the room, and then watched me like I was a convicted criminal as I walked toward the principal's door and knocked.
I got no answer, so I focused my vision past the door and into the room, where I saw the principal pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. I knocked once more as I opened the door and slipped in. He didn't seem to notice me until the door latched closed.
"How'd you get in here?" he barked.
"Um..." I started, "your door was unlocked, and as there was no one else in here, I assumed--"
"How did you know I was alone?" Was he that stupid?
"Well, if you can't figure out how I did that, we can just ignore the whole thing and go home. Alright?"
"You used your powers, didn't you? You willfully and knowingly invaded my privacy."
I rolled my eyes—not that he could tell—and sighed. "I looked through your door to make sure you weren't meeting with someone else or on the phone or something. Even if you had been with someone else, it's not like I could've heard what you were saying. I don't have sensitive hearing, remember?" His paranoia made me seriously wonder, though. Did he do anything he wouldn't want others to see when he was alone in his office? Disturbing images of the principal jacking off behind his desk filled my mind. Ew.
He paused for a moment, apparently recalculating his argument. When he did speak, it was in a more even tone. I think he'd managed to get control over his fears, more or less.
"Though I'm sure you would argue, Mr. McAllister, that you are not a threat to the school community, your unhesitant use of your powers proves you otherwise. I think it would be appropriate, then, if we suspended—"
"Wait a minute, you can't suspend me because I used my powers. That's like kicking me out because I'm too short or something."
"On the contrary, Mr. McAllister," he was turning red now, but still working on keeping an even voice, "your total disregard for my right to privacy is reason enough for me. If you have no problem with looking into my office, how are we to know you aren't cheating on tests or peeping into the girl's locker room?"
"Oh, and regular students never cheat on tests? I am the least of your worries in that category, sir."
"All I have is your word on that, McAllister, and in your case, it just isn't good enough. I can keep regular students under control, but with mutants, we cannot be so sure." He spat out the word like it was a piece of filth. "I know what you're capable of, and I'm going to go to every length possible to preserve the school community from this threat."
It was worthless arguing with this man; it was time to give up.
"Here's my doctor's note," I said, shoving it into his hand. "At least I won't get suspended for missing school today." I stormed out of his office.
..................
"Why did you do that?" was all I could ask my father when I found out what he had done to Alex. Not that he told me himself. Oh no, that would be too easy for Zander McAllister. I found out while driving to school with my carpool. It was a minor headline, nestled between an announcement about rising oil prices and unrest in the Middle East, but it pretty clearly identified my father as the politician with a mutant son. As soon as the Morning Edition host read it, the car went from that kind of sleepy, inattentive silence to an awkward silence involving a lot of staring. At me.
"What?" I had asked. I think I was hoping the radio had announced something else, like the latest Redskins loss.
"Your brother's a mutant?" So much for pretending it didn't happen. That came from Clare, who wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she knew this was a big deal. Big enough for her to spread it around the whole school by the end of second period.
Sure enough, by lunchtime, every girl in St. Anne's Prep knew that Alex was a mutant, and all I wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position to avoid the endless questions.
After an entire day of "Did you know?" "Is he safe?" and "Is that why he got expelled from St. Asaph's?" I had more than a few questions of my own, which is why I was standing in the middle of my father's office, interrupting his phone call.
"Yeah, hold on Mitch." He turned his chair to face me, his cell phone still plastered to his ear. "Nora, can you please wait until I'm off the phone with my campaign manager? I've got to go back to Washington tomorrow, and I need to clear some stuff up with him before I leave."
I couldn't believe he was doing this, but I knew better than to keep bothering him while he was on the phone. As he wrapped up his conversation about sympathy votes and rising polls, I paced the family room, fuming.
"Nora, honey, I know you're probably upset about--"
"Upset?" I cut him off before he could even get started with his total BS. "I'm surprised you even noticed I'm upset. I'm surprised you even bothered to get off the phone with your campaign manager to see why I'm upset. Honestly, Dad, it's like I don't exist when it's election season."
"Oh come on, honey, I've just got a lot on my plate right now. You know it's a close election and I can't afford to lose this. I'm a public servant; I serve the people of Washington, and because of that we have to make certain sacrifices—"
"Like telling the whole world Alex is a mutant?"
He had to have known it was coming, and yet he still seemed surprised to hear it. He decided to change tactics.
"They knew, Nora. Those crank phone calls we've been getting weren't just bored neighborhood kids, they were from someone who knew what was going on."
"A month of crank phone calls doesn't mean you can go ahead and out him on national TV."
"Would you rather your brother be in the Weekly World News? I've at least spared him from that."
"And stuck him on the front page of the Washington Post! It may be a better paper, but that doesn't save him from knowing that his father destroyed any sense of security and privacy that he could possibly have because it would get him better press coverage." Tears welled up in my eyes and I started to yell, losing any control over the argument that had been fuming in my head all day. "You've boiled him down to a political move, Dad. You're just going to sacrifice him so you can get reelected and pass that stupid bill!"
He didn't have a comeback for that; there was no smooth and easy way to reason away what I'd just said. He seemed to crumple from the inside, his normally confident air fading as he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands.
He looked defeated, shrunken—like I'd never seen him before. He was always the commanding father figure, the one who'd tuck you into bed at night, but wasn't afraid to ground you for a month, but now, he'd given up. He had frozen on national TV and forced himself into making a career move that had made his kids hate him, and there was nothing he could do; he was stuck. Having lectured us at length on the importance of honesty and openness to the public, he had finally crossed the line, and he knew it. He knew it, and I had a feeling he didn't like it.
.......................
It was really weird, being suspended. Granted, I was not exactly the headmistress's favorite at St. Asaph's, but I'd never been suspended. I was under the impression that, in most places, suspension takes a lot. Here, though, I'd been suspended for opening a door.
It was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard of. What is wrong with schools when people get expelled for being themselves? This was as bad as don't ask, don't tell.
Today was about as fun as yesterday. Why did he have to do this? What on earth could have possessed my father to announce my genes on national television? Wasn't he trying to keep this quiet?
I really needed to vent to someone who would understand me. Bobby would have been the ideal candidate, since he lived with me and consequently couldn't hide in his room. Sadly, though, he was still at school, serving a detention he'd gotten yesterday. Pretty much everyone else was doing work or at sports practice or something; if I wanted to yell at someone about my father, I wasn't going to find them here.
But then there was Nora. My little sister was great for venting sessions. She could put up with an inordinate amount of crap, and due to her wonderful lack of tact, she had no reservations about telling it like it is. She would be perfect.
I picked up the phone and dialed home, hoping that Dad would be at a committee meeting or even better, off campaigning. I may have wanted to talk to my sister badly, but I wanted to avoid our father as much as possible.
"Hello, you've reached the McAllister residence. If you are from any of the following types of organizations: ABC, NBC, CBS or any local affiliates, any and all cable news stations, The Washington Post, Washington Times, Fairfax Journal or any other newspaper, tabloid, or print publication, any and all radio stations, websites, or nosy neighbors, please hang up now."
I stayed on the line, but didn't say anything. It was Nora speaking, but I couldn't tell if it was recorded; my sister liked to change the answering machine a lot. After a few seconds, though, I heard her voice again.
"If you fall into none of these categories, then, hello, Nora McAllister speaking."
"Nora?" Apparently it wasn't a recording.
"Oh my God! Alex!" I held the phone away from my ear to endure her shrieks.
"Ssh! Is Dad there?" I asked. I was pretty sure he would be gone, but I wasn't taking any chances.
"No, he's gone to a party fundraiser. He won't be home until late."
"Thank God. The last thing I need is to talk to him."
"I'm not sure if he'd actually talk about it. I blew up at him yesterday, and he hasn't mentioned it since then."
"Nothing?"
"Um, yeah. Nothing."
I plopped down on the rec room couch and grabbed the remote while we kept talking. "So, how's everything else going?" I asked.
"Ok," she said. I think the events of the last two days had largely drawn her attention away from other things, so coming up with stuff to talk about wasn't exactly easy. "Ooh, our soccer team won our league championship," she finally remembered.
"That's great," I told her while I flipped the TV on. "Is your coach still..."
I trailed off. There, on the high definition, full color, wide screen TV was my father, standing in front of our house, giving a press conference.
"There are people in this world, humans and mutants alike, who mean us harm," he said. "The humans we can deal with; we have locks and alarms to keep us safe. But what can you do about a mutant? We can't know how to protect our communities until we know what the danger is. Wouldn't you want to know if you were living near a telepath? What kind of extra precautions would you take if there were someone who could walk through walls in your neighborhood? The Mutant Registration Act is about protecting the communities and families that have a right to know when there is a possible danger to their safety. I'm not saying that all mutants are a threat to our lives, but we have a right to know what might be a threat out there."
He kept going. I just watched, open-mouthed.
"Alex?"
My sister was still on the phone.
"Nora, what did you mean by 'nothing' when you told me about Dad's response to your fight with him?" I quietly asked.
"Well," she said, "he hasn't talked about you with me."
"Oh," I said, "with you. Well, I'm glad he's not talking about me with someone, because he appears to be on CNN right now, on our front steps, talking about me with everyone."
"Oh." She said. "They must be replaying the second press conference."
"The second press conference? There was more than one?"
"Um...yeah. He gave one yesterday afternoon which was really fast, and then one this morning that was more of an official one. The one yesterday was at his office, though, not at our house."
"I can't believe he's doing this. I thought he wanted to keep things quiet."
"Well, he did," she replied, "but then people found out, so now he's talking his way out of it."
I groaned. Did he have to do this?
"It's all one big political move, Alex. He's reshaping his televised mistake into a full-fledged campaign maneuver."
"Televised 'mistake'? That's a nice way to put it, Nora."
"Oh, come on," she said, "I don't think he did it on purpose. He was terrified someone was going to leak it. We've been getting threatening calls for a month now."
"Oh come on, he's a politician; someone's always threatening him with something. One would think that by now he'd have learned to ignore it."
"Don't be so hard on him." She was nearing tears now. "He's been under a lot of pressure what with the campaign and all, and I think he just cracked. Some of those Sunday news shows can get vicious. He was trying to maintain his credibility by preempting any rumors that would force him to pull a Bill Clinton."
That was too much for me. How could she take his side? "I am not Monica Lewinsky. He is not the president. I am NOT some embarrassment he needs to hide from the public! I AM HIS SON, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"
I slammed the phone down into its receiver.
.............
I realize it has been quite awhile since I've updated...All I can say is I am Very, Very Sorry. 20 credits, 2 plays and orchestra is not a good idea for one semester--'nuff said. It's summer though, and so despite the fact that I'm working 3 jobs, I think I'll be slightly more productive. Jobs don't give grades, after all.
Many thanks go to Risty, my lovely beta reader, for, well, beta-reading this chapter. Many thanks as well to those who have read and reviewed in the past. I really do appreciate feedback.
And now for something completely different:
I have a new story (well, newer than this one, anyway). It's an AU fic about Kitty and her life if she hadn't been picked up by the X-Men, although they definitely figure in there. It's headed in an interesting Lancitty direction. Check it out if you feel so inclined.
And on yet another note, REGISTER TO VOTE (those of you who can)-if you don't vote, you can't complain, and isn't that what America is built on? Go to for more information.