Clara could not believe her luck. After three weeks at the Institute, she had settled in comfortably. Up to date with her schoolwork, involved in the school newspaper, and gradually spending more time with her new friends, she thought she was finally safe. No one had come anywhere close to figuring anything about her that could incriminate, and she was fine with that.
Too bad her friends weren't.
It started innocently enough. They were curious, and after a while, the suspense began to drag at their heels.
Why was she so secretive? What did she have to hide? What kind of training was she receiving?
What was her power?
It certainly couldn't be much worse than what they'd seen before. Most of them had some kind of tumultuous history, and they'd all seen enough prejudice that none even thought of ostracizing her based on her powers. They figured she was still "in denial," but that didn't stop them from wondering.
It hadn't been malicious at all. Clara and Kurt had been studying for an upcoming assignment in sociology in his room one night. Rogue came in to ask Kurt a math question, Jean and Spyke brought Clara some new photos for her article, Kitty needed a free outlet for her hairdryer, and Scott entered looking for Jean. Studying was abandoned pretty quickly, and the group just joked around, enjoying each other's company.
"So Clara," Scott asked during a pause in the laughter, "how's the paper coming?"
"The absolute dullness of my subject is killing me," Clara jibed, grinning at Spyke playfully. "I'm surprised I haven't dropped dead yet from how absolutely boring he is."
Spyke tossed a pillow at her, and retorted, "Yeah, but a subject is only as good as the writer that portrays him. You'll be hearing from my lawyers for that libel." He ducked, laughing, as the pillow whizzed back, just missing his head.
"Hey," Kitty piped in, "could you just imagine his personal ad? 'Seeking girlfriend- boring boy with interest in legal procedures and no other positive aspects, according to friends.'"
"Is also a part-time porcupine," Scott added.
"Real nice coming from you, bright eye," Rogue joked. "Not that I'm much better: 'Girl seeks boy not requiring goodnight kisses. Handshakes are out too.'"
They all laughed, and Kitty turned to Clara.
"What about you? What would your mutant personal ad say?"
Clara's mouth clamped shut.
"Yeah," Jean asked, "what is your power? I don't think I've ever seen you use it."
Rogue said, "You haven't even spoken about it. Certainly you're comfortable enough with us now?" Her inquisitive gaze and voice asked more questions than her words spoke.
Clara's eyes darted from one to the other. More voices assailed her.
"Yeah, please tell us!
"Come on, you can trust us."
"That's right. We're all mutants."
"Nothing to be ashamed of."
Voices. From her right.
"What is it?"
The left.
"Tell us!"
"We should know!"
"Come on, Clara!"
Bewildered. Shut your eyes, block them out.
You don't know, you can't know. No. Don't. Can't.
"You can be comfortable with us!"
"What's your power?" "Tell us, come on!"
What's
Your
Power?
Too much. Too many voices.
She cracked.
"I DON'T HAVE ONE!!!"
Silence.
"What?" someone asked.
She was livid, tears streaming down her strained face.
"I don't have a power! I'm not a mutant!"
Another voice. "You're kidding." The voice sought confirmation. "She's kidding, right?"
Nothing.
Clara looked through a haze of tears from one blurry face to the next.
Twelve eyes. Staring. Strong.
She turned and ran from the room.