DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of Marvel, I am simply playing with
their toys. What's mine is mine.
~~~~~
As soon as we pull up in front of the school, I race off the bus to the bathroom, promptly throwing up everything I'd eaten the day before in the porcelain bowl, known to me at the current moment as 'savior.' I gulp in air, desperately trying to repress the fresh wave of nausea that strikes me upon rising.
"First day jitters, huh?" I glance up sharply to lock eyes with a tall girl dressed all in black leaning against the stall door. She's wearing a red and black senior letter jacket and her short hair is sticking up in all directions, flecks of red sprouting here and there. Great, just what I need. Someone two grades ahead, coming to pick on me.
I shove past her roughly, heading to the sink. She obliges by shifting out of my way. Ignoring her, although keenly aware of her presence behind me, I splash water on my face, wiping excess off with paper towels. A quick glance in the mirror at my horrid façade tells me that she's still there. So I turn around, finally giving her the time of day she apparently wants.
"Look," I say, leaning my butt up against the countertop and folding my arms across my chest, looking at my watch for emphasis, "I'm a sophomore, not a freshman and I have to get to class. So, if you don't mind..." I push off and start towards the door. Just as I'm about to leave, she thrusts her arm in my face, blocking the exit. I stop abruptly and glare at her.
"Hey," she spit at me, eyes flashing red with anger. Disconcerted, I take a step away from her, glancing right and left, searching for help. "Why are you being such a hard-ass? I'm just trying to be friendly." Adopting a new resolve once I realize no one's here to come to my aid, I stare back at her, straightening my back.
"And I'm just trying to get to class. So if you'd excuse me..." With all the strength I can muster (I'm a little on the small side - mostly because I'm so thin), I push her in the opposite direction I'm intending to go. Satisfied at hearing a small pop and seeing her wince in pain as she grabs her arm, cradling it to her body, I walk out the door. Her face shifts back to nonchalance (with an edge) and she squares her shoulders at my back.
"I know what you are."
Reflexively, I stiffen, but continue to the classroom across the hall. According to my schedule, my first class of the day is Health - the easiest subject in the world. As soon as the door swings shut behind me, I let out a deep sigh and sit down in a desk back-and-center. My relief is short-lived, however, because a few seconds later, who else to enter the room, but the gothic senior herself. Spotting me, she smirks and makes her way to the chair one seat over and up from me. Sitting down, she swivels to face the front and completely disregards me. I lean my head back against the chalkboard and close my eyes.
The bell rings and I resume attention, sitting up to see a blond chick seated in front of me, talking to the goth. I roll my eyes and look around the room to see if anyone I know is in here. No such luck. The teacher - Mr. Evans, the writing on the black board states - enters the room and perches on the very edge of his desk, holding a rather thick binder.
"All right, class," he called out, pronouncing each word clearly and in a rich, deep voice as though he were teaching a foreign language. "Welcome to Health, 101. This year, you will be learning how we reproduce - not that you don't already know how and no doubt experimented with." He gets a few nervous chuckles out of that and I blush slightly. "But first, roll." And he proceeds to read off names from a paper, making various notes here and there about who knows what. I tune out a little, entering my own world as I wait for my name.
"Somersby, Keira."
"Yo." I jolt upright from a slouching position. I thought my last name was further down the list. Listening for a few seconds, I come to the conclusion he's not going in order. I'm guessing it keeps people awake during an otherwise deathly boring period of time.
"Smith, Tabitha." Closely, I regard the girl sitting in front of me as she acknowledges him.
"Call me Boom-boom." A grin spreads across her face and he laughs lightly.
"All right, then. Maximoff, Wanda."
"Yeah, I'm here." Startled, I look at the goth. She blows a large pink bubble and slouches back in her chair, daring him to reprimand her.
"By the way, are you in any relation to a certain varsity basketball player?" he asks. She rolls her eyes and pops the mini balloon. Too bad it didn't get stuck all over her face.
"Unfortunately." Tabitha, oh excuse me, Boom-boom cracks up and starts tearing at the eyes in laughter at that. Okay, seriously now. If you get that hyper, common sense should tell you not to drink caffeine. It wasn't that funny.
The rest of the class goes by in a blur, as do the rest of my morning classes. Luckily, Wanda isn't in any of them except the first. Ah, the simple pleasures in life.
Ambling, I make my way towards the cafeteria for lunch. Hillary runs up beside me.
"Hey! Looks like we have at least one hour-long period together," she says, speaking of our nonexistent same class scheduling. "Wow. I still can't get over your new look! I absolutely love it!"
"Thanks," I say dryly, grabbing a tray off the rack and slamming it down on the railing as I stock it with various junk foods. I love to rub it in people's faces that I can eat whatever I want and still remain (always and forever, knock on wood) a hundred pounds. She moves to join me, but appears to see another friend out of my line of vision and rushes off to talk to them. I continue on my merry way to the register and pay the required amount of six dollars. Yes, I'm a pig.
Plopping my 'large' butt down on a hard plastic chair, I chow into my feast, barely acknowledging Hillary when she comes back over to eat with me. I don't notice the extra large shadow that separates in two when she pulls a chair out.
"Keira, I'd like you to meet Wanda Maximoff," she says, indicating the person now sitting across from me with an 'other meaning' grin displayed on her features. I choke on a bite of chocolate cake. She gives me a mock innocent expression.
"We've already met." I shove myself away from the table, chair legs sliding several feet across the floor before I can stand. Recovering some of my equilibrium, I manage to snatch my barely-touched tray from under their noses and stalk off. "I'm going to throw out the trash," I call back over my shoulder with a meaningful glare at Wanda. Ditching it, I half jog, half walk out of the cafeteria, heading towards the library. I just can't seem to get away from her. What does she want from me? What did I ever do to her to deserve her continuous presence?
Rounding the corner, self absorbed in the conversation in my head, I don't pay attention to where I'm going and collide with someone very tall. Like a rubber ball, I bounce off the guy's muscled torso and sprawl across the cold tile floor. Stunned, I sit there like a moron, just staring at my assailant. Or should I say, assailants.
In front of me, stand the two possibly hottest guys I have ever seen. The taller one (also the one I made physical contact with, *sigh*) has the lightest blond - almost white - hair probably in the world and his face, ohhh, it's to die for. To say nothing for his friend. Damn, he's fine. Just a little shorter, he's got medium brown hair that's a little longer than normal and a charming smile - by far one of his many very best features. I gulp.
"Oh, excuse me. Sorry," the blond boy says. "My name's Pietro. What's yours?" He offers his hand to help me stand up. I struggle for words to say.
"Uh...uh..." I stammer. I am such an idiot. They probably think I'm in special ed or something equally stupid. The brown-haired boy gives a sidelong glance to his friend, then steps forward.
"Alvers. Lance Alvers. Nice to meet you." He pulls me to my feet and just stands there, no more than six inches in front of me for several minutes. I fidget, beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Well, are you going to tell us your name?"
"Oh!" Duh. "It's Keira."
"Keira? Keira Somersby?" Now it's my turn to give them weird looks as they get all excited and slap each other a quick high-five.
"So...?" I am totally clueless here. Feeling like less of an imbecile now that they are the ones making idiots of themselves, I detour around them and walk into the library.
"Pietro. Pietro!" Oh, no. She's found me again. Run!!! I sprint to the back corner and huddle down behind a low bookshelf. "You get away from her! I found her first and I'm going to get the credit!" Eh? Does anybody care to explain? By the way, did I mention Wanda's extremely loud? I can hear their footsteps as they all tromp into the bookroom, searching on the other side of the room (thankfully) and working their way over. Listening carefully, I discern that Tabitha has now joined them in their quest of hunting me down like an animal. Joy.
Peeking out from my little cubby hole, I peer at them as they carefully inspect every single bookcase on the opposite side. Good. I think I have just enough room to squeeze by without them noticing. And I do. Of course, I do get quite a few strange looks and raised eyebrows from people as I crawl my way to the door, but I have no choice but to ignore them. And that is the way it goes the rest of the school day - them finding me with just enough room and time for me to escape. And the freedom bell rings.
Praising the Lord, I race out the back doors of the school and on to the practice football field. I've already changed into a pair of loose fitting shorts for cheerleading practice. Yes, I'm one of those freaks, although it hadn't been my first choice. I'd tried out for Color Guard at the end of last year, but unfortunately didn't make it. I guess the cheerleading squad accepts anybody these days, although I admit I'm getting pretty good at this stuff.
I'm a little early, so only three other people are out here already stretching. It comes as no surprise to me that it's this year's captain, Rahne Sinclair, and the two of probably many friends that are into the whole girly-sports thing (even though I wouldn't, won't, and will not ever classify this as a sport). She has her hair pulled back in two tight, spiky pigtails. The girl closest to her I think is new. She's got the brightest red-gold hair I have ever seen. She looks up suddenly, glancing around before laying her eyes to rest on me, so I look away quickly, pretending I'm tying my shoe. The other girl I have no idea what her real name is, but she's a junior who everyone calls Kitty. If I remember right, she's supposed to be dating Lance. At least, that's if the gossip chain still works. Fireworks have been exploding forever from that pairing although I'm still not sure if I understand why.
By the time I get around to actually warming up, the rest of the squad is on the sidelines with us and Rahne starts to lead us in a quick jog around the field. Fun. Not really. If I'd wanted to join the track team, then I would have. So, the natural course of events would have me in last place. That is, until old Cap'n Crunch up at the very front decides to look behind her and drop back to join me. No doubt to 'motivate' me into moving my ass faster. Yeah, right. I prepare to give her one of my very best glares, but before I can serve it on a silver platter, she gives me the most sympathetic smile I have ever seen.
"Something wrong today, Keira?" she asks, innocently. Her tone just makes me more on edge and I can feel the tension running through my veins. I pass someone, but my stare is locked on hers and I don't notice that I somehow start picking up the pace. Next thing I know, we're up next to the new girl, who announces herself as Jean Grey. Like I care.
"No." I look away and behind me to see that three people are in the back of the pack, so I slacken again. Jean stays right with me as though we've been going the same speed all along. Rahne goes back up to the front. A natural leader, let me tell ya.
"I like what you did with you hair." Is that sarcasm I detect? No, too complimentary and soft-spoken to be.
"Thank you," I reply in my best monotone voice, as though I don't care. But deep inside, I do. I mean, hello, a senior - and a popular one at that (she has to be for Rahne to even give a shit about her) - takes time out of her day to compliment me? I sense her gaze as she studies my face. Now, we're nearing the bleachers again where we'll work on our routines.
"Where'd you get those cool contacts?" she asks, though this time I notice an undertone to her voice, as if she were secretly trying to ask me about something else. I pull up short at the edge of the bleachers, swinging my arms slightly as I lean back to halt my forward procession. She passes me by a few steps, then turns back around to finish the conversation she apparently thinks we are having. Everyone else is doing somersaults and the splits and such.
I give her the cold shoulder. "Wouldn't you love to know," I spit out and jog away to join one of my other friends, Emily. "Wassup, Emile?" I spot her as she does a handstand into a back bend. I glance up over her stomach to find Jean still staring at me, so I give her the finger and she looks away. I'm not in too good a mood today. I can't even go home for another hour and I have no idea what to make of this whole mutant business.
Fifteen minutes later, our coach yells out across the various strewn bodies of the squad to inform us that we have two minutes of individual work left before we start on whole squad maneuvers. Yippee. I do a back hand spring into the splits. Standing back up, I bring my right leg up behind my head and grasp my ankle there with both hands. I can feel the stretch as I bend over and I concentrate fixedly on a rock below me to hold the position.
"You know, if you need to talk, or there's anything you want to tell someone, I'm always here for you."
I jolt upright, nearly finding myself in a heap on the dried grass as I look around, startled, to see who was speaking to me. To my left is Jean, half turned away now as she goes to join the rest of the team where the coach is telling us what to do. Or, in my case, what we're supposed to be doing. I sigh, resigning myself and rush to be a part of the group. Yay, we're doing a pyramid. All fifteen of us and guess who gets to be on top? Yours truly because she, 'just so happens to be lucky enough to be the smallest, skinniest person here,' in the infamous words of our coach. I hope she burns in hell for that - I'm scared of heights.
So here I am, little old me, staring up about fifty (okay, I'm probably exaggerating, but it's certainly no less than twenty) feet in the air, where I'm supposed to be. Meanwhile, the coach is standing next to me, yelling into my ear to get my ass up there because the squad can't hold that position all day. My eyes trail over the team, passing Emily by until they rest on Jean, who shares yet another reassuring smile. Inside my head, I feel a comforting wave wash over me and I suddenly feel like I can do it. I take a step forward. My vision blurs. The coach yells. I practically fly up there, I move so fast. Carefully and balanced, of course. And...
...I'm there! I literally feel like I'm on top of the world for a few seconds as I relish in the pure joy of my accomplishment. Then I look down. And there goes the bottom of the stack. I open my mouth to scream as I'm pitched forwards, then backwards from the shift in balance, but nothing comes out. The squad lays prostrate on the earth beneath me, holding their heads and various appendages that were damaged in their short falls. All the while I'm still falling.
I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the solid crash of my body breaking into a thousand pieces as it slams into the ground, but the impact never comes. I open first one eye, then the other to find myself literally hovering above everyone's heads, the cheerleading squad and the football team both staring at me. Suddenly, I finish falling, air rushing out of me in a gasp as I grope at the air, trying for a handhold I know isn't there. Instead, a tiny, nearly transparent ball of shimmering light shoots out of my fingers into the sky before exceeding my speed of descent, where it flattens into a pancake on the grass beneath me. I collapse into a heap right in the center of the dazzling white flapjack - and fall through it!
-- Blinking my eyes several times, I find myself sitting on my knees on the ground next to our coach. I rise to my feet.
"What the heck's wrong with you today, Somersby?! Get your ass up to the top of that pyramid this instant! I don't care if you have a fear of heights - cure it!"
I shake my head, suddenly getting the feeling of déja vu. Pressing the heel of a hand to my eye in an attempt to ease the pain of an oncoming migraine, I glance around to confirm it. As I look up at the height of my awaiting platform, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as though I'm about to make a grave mistake, although I'm not sure what. Yet, like the imbecile I am (as I'm sure you're probably acutely aware by now), I still go, racing up the side to reach my goal. Just as I brush the tip of it, I see an intense light open up in front of me like a door, my forward momentum not allowing me to stop until I collide with it. And --
-- I'm laying stomach down on the football field, mouth full of grass. Crawling onto my knees, I stare at my hands as though they're holding flesh and gore and I carefully inspect my entire body looking for God knows what - a hole maybe.
"Are you all right?" I lurch away from the hand placed on my shoulder. It's Jean. Who else? Shocked, all I can do is stare at her before gaining awareness of everyone else crowding around. The football team is pressing in from the left as the cheerleaders hone in on the right.
"What's wrong with your eyes?" Emily asks.
"Yeah, they're, like, a really pale gray. Almost translucent," Kitty adds. I look around at everyone, suddenly realizing that they seem to be moving in slow motion as I drift into a fog. Then, instantly, everything resumes its normal pace when I'm jolted out of the trance by someone shouting.
"What the hell?"
Coach enters the center of the huddled group. Nobody moves to give her room. If anything, they all press in tighter, making me feel as if I'm claustrophobic. I look from one to the other, ears picking up on whispered catches:
"Dirty mutant."
"Mutie."
"What is she?"
"Oh my gawd? Like, what the heck just happened?"
The latter of which I would like to know myself. I see the tides of curiosity quickly turn to accusing glares from people that I've known all my life: Emily, Todd, the coach - the list goes on and on. Tears spring to my eyes and I hurl myself to my feet. Pausing for just a few seconds, I make eye contact once more with Jean. The edges of my vision are growing foggy again. Unable to handle all of it any longer, I turn on my heel and sprint away, unsure of where I'm going.
~~~~~
As soon as we pull up in front of the school, I race off the bus to the bathroom, promptly throwing up everything I'd eaten the day before in the porcelain bowl, known to me at the current moment as 'savior.' I gulp in air, desperately trying to repress the fresh wave of nausea that strikes me upon rising.
"First day jitters, huh?" I glance up sharply to lock eyes with a tall girl dressed all in black leaning against the stall door. She's wearing a red and black senior letter jacket and her short hair is sticking up in all directions, flecks of red sprouting here and there. Great, just what I need. Someone two grades ahead, coming to pick on me.
I shove past her roughly, heading to the sink. She obliges by shifting out of my way. Ignoring her, although keenly aware of her presence behind me, I splash water on my face, wiping excess off with paper towels. A quick glance in the mirror at my horrid façade tells me that she's still there. So I turn around, finally giving her the time of day she apparently wants.
"Look," I say, leaning my butt up against the countertop and folding my arms across my chest, looking at my watch for emphasis, "I'm a sophomore, not a freshman and I have to get to class. So, if you don't mind..." I push off and start towards the door. Just as I'm about to leave, she thrusts her arm in my face, blocking the exit. I stop abruptly and glare at her.
"Hey," she spit at me, eyes flashing red with anger. Disconcerted, I take a step away from her, glancing right and left, searching for help. "Why are you being such a hard-ass? I'm just trying to be friendly." Adopting a new resolve once I realize no one's here to come to my aid, I stare back at her, straightening my back.
"And I'm just trying to get to class. So if you'd excuse me..." With all the strength I can muster (I'm a little on the small side - mostly because I'm so thin), I push her in the opposite direction I'm intending to go. Satisfied at hearing a small pop and seeing her wince in pain as she grabs her arm, cradling it to her body, I walk out the door. Her face shifts back to nonchalance (with an edge) and she squares her shoulders at my back.
"I know what you are."
Reflexively, I stiffen, but continue to the classroom across the hall. According to my schedule, my first class of the day is Health - the easiest subject in the world. As soon as the door swings shut behind me, I let out a deep sigh and sit down in a desk back-and-center. My relief is short-lived, however, because a few seconds later, who else to enter the room, but the gothic senior herself. Spotting me, she smirks and makes her way to the chair one seat over and up from me. Sitting down, she swivels to face the front and completely disregards me. I lean my head back against the chalkboard and close my eyes.
The bell rings and I resume attention, sitting up to see a blond chick seated in front of me, talking to the goth. I roll my eyes and look around the room to see if anyone I know is in here. No such luck. The teacher - Mr. Evans, the writing on the black board states - enters the room and perches on the very edge of his desk, holding a rather thick binder.
"All right, class," he called out, pronouncing each word clearly and in a rich, deep voice as though he were teaching a foreign language. "Welcome to Health, 101. This year, you will be learning how we reproduce - not that you don't already know how and no doubt experimented with." He gets a few nervous chuckles out of that and I blush slightly. "But first, roll." And he proceeds to read off names from a paper, making various notes here and there about who knows what. I tune out a little, entering my own world as I wait for my name.
"Somersby, Keira."
"Yo." I jolt upright from a slouching position. I thought my last name was further down the list. Listening for a few seconds, I come to the conclusion he's not going in order. I'm guessing it keeps people awake during an otherwise deathly boring period of time.
"Smith, Tabitha." Closely, I regard the girl sitting in front of me as she acknowledges him.
"Call me Boom-boom." A grin spreads across her face and he laughs lightly.
"All right, then. Maximoff, Wanda."
"Yeah, I'm here." Startled, I look at the goth. She blows a large pink bubble and slouches back in her chair, daring him to reprimand her.
"By the way, are you in any relation to a certain varsity basketball player?" he asks. She rolls her eyes and pops the mini balloon. Too bad it didn't get stuck all over her face.
"Unfortunately." Tabitha, oh excuse me, Boom-boom cracks up and starts tearing at the eyes in laughter at that. Okay, seriously now. If you get that hyper, common sense should tell you not to drink caffeine. It wasn't that funny.
The rest of the class goes by in a blur, as do the rest of my morning classes. Luckily, Wanda isn't in any of them except the first. Ah, the simple pleasures in life.
Ambling, I make my way towards the cafeteria for lunch. Hillary runs up beside me.
"Hey! Looks like we have at least one hour-long period together," she says, speaking of our nonexistent same class scheduling. "Wow. I still can't get over your new look! I absolutely love it!"
"Thanks," I say dryly, grabbing a tray off the rack and slamming it down on the railing as I stock it with various junk foods. I love to rub it in people's faces that I can eat whatever I want and still remain (always and forever, knock on wood) a hundred pounds. She moves to join me, but appears to see another friend out of my line of vision and rushes off to talk to them. I continue on my merry way to the register and pay the required amount of six dollars. Yes, I'm a pig.
Plopping my 'large' butt down on a hard plastic chair, I chow into my feast, barely acknowledging Hillary when she comes back over to eat with me. I don't notice the extra large shadow that separates in two when she pulls a chair out.
"Keira, I'd like you to meet Wanda Maximoff," she says, indicating the person now sitting across from me with an 'other meaning' grin displayed on her features. I choke on a bite of chocolate cake. She gives me a mock innocent expression.
"We've already met." I shove myself away from the table, chair legs sliding several feet across the floor before I can stand. Recovering some of my equilibrium, I manage to snatch my barely-touched tray from under their noses and stalk off. "I'm going to throw out the trash," I call back over my shoulder with a meaningful glare at Wanda. Ditching it, I half jog, half walk out of the cafeteria, heading towards the library. I just can't seem to get away from her. What does she want from me? What did I ever do to her to deserve her continuous presence?
Rounding the corner, self absorbed in the conversation in my head, I don't pay attention to where I'm going and collide with someone very tall. Like a rubber ball, I bounce off the guy's muscled torso and sprawl across the cold tile floor. Stunned, I sit there like a moron, just staring at my assailant. Or should I say, assailants.
In front of me, stand the two possibly hottest guys I have ever seen. The taller one (also the one I made physical contact with, *sigh*) has the lightest blond - almost white - hair probably in the world and his face, ohhh, it's to die for. To say nothing for his friend. Damn, he's fine. Just a little shorter, he's got medium brown hair that's a little longer than normal and a charming smile - by far one of his many very best features. I gulp.
"Oh, excuse me. Sorry," the blond boy says. "My name's Pietro. What's yours?" He offers his hand to help me stand up. I struggle for words to say.
"Uh...uh..." I stammer. I am such an idiot. They probably think I'm in special ed or something equally stupid. The brown-haired boy gives a sidelong glance to his friend, then steps forward.
"Alvers. Lance Alvers. Nice to meet you." He pulls me to my feet and just stands there, no more than six inches in front of me for several minutes. I fidget, beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Well, are you going to tell us your name?"
"Oh!" Duh. "It's Keira."
"Keira? Keira Somersby?" Now it's my turn to give them weird looks as they get all excited and slap each other a quick high-five.
"So...?" I am totally clueless here. Feeling like less of an imbecile now that they are the ones making idiots of themselves, I detour around them and walk into the library.
"Pietro. Pietro!" Oh, no. She's found me again. Run!!! I sprint to the back corner and huddle down behind a low bookshelf. "You get away from her! I found her first and I'm going to get the credit!" Eh? Does anybody care to explain? By the way, did I mention Wanda's extremely loud? I can hear their footsteps as they all tromp into the bookroom, searching on the other side of the room (thankfully) and working their way over. Listening carefully, I discern that Tabitha has now joined them in their quest of hunting me down like an animal. Joy.
Peeking out from my little cubby hole, I peer at them as they carefully inspect every single bookcase on the opposite side. Good. I think I have just enough room to squeeze by without them noticing. And I do. Of course, I do get quite a few strange looks and raised eyebrows from people as I crawl my way to the door, but I have no choice but to ignore them. And that is the way it goes the rest of the school day - them finding me with just enough room and time for me to escape. And the freedom bell rings.
Praising the Lord, I race out the back doors of the school and on to the practice football field. I've already changed into a pair of loose fitting shorts for cheerleading practice. Yes, I'm one of those freaks, although it hadn't been my first choice. I'd tried out for Color Guard at the end of last year, but unfortunately didn't make it. I guess the cheerleading squad accepts anybody these days, although I admit I'm getting pretty good at this stuff.
I'm a little early, so only three other people are out here already stretching. It comes as no surprise to me that it's this year's captain, Rahne Sinclair, and the two of probably many friends that are into the whole girly-sports thing (even though I wouldn't, won't, and will not ever classify this as a sport). She has her hair pulled back in two tight, spiky pigtails. The girl closest to her I think is new. She's got the brightest red-gold hair I have ever seen. She looks up suddenly, glancing around before laying her eyes to rest on me, so I look away quickly, pretending I'm tying my shoe. The other girl I have no idea what her real name is, but she's a junior who everyone calls Kitty. If I remember right, she's supposed to be dating Lance. At least, that's if the gossip chain still works. Fireworks have been exploding forever from that pairing although I'm still not sure if I understand why.
By the time I get around to actually warming up, the rest of the squad is on the sidelines with us and Rahne starts to lead us in a quick jog around the field. Fun. Not really. If I'd wanted to join the track team, then I would have. So, the natural course of events would have me in last place. That is, until old Cap'n Crunch up at the very front decides to look behind her and drop back to join me. No doubt to 'motivate' me into moving my ass faster. Yeah, right. I prepare to give her one of my very best glares, but before I can serve it on a silver platter, she gives me the most sympathetic smile I have ever seen.
"Something wrong today, Keira?" she asks, innocently. Her tone just makes me more on edge and I can feel the tension running through my veins. I pass someone, but my stare is locked on hers and I don't notice that I somehow start picking up the pace. Next thing I know, we're up next to the new girl, who announces herself as Jean Grey. Like I care.
"No." I look away and behind me to see that three people are in the back of the pack, so I slacken again. Jean stays right with me as though we've been going the same speed all along. Rahne goes back up to the front. A natural leader, let me tell ya.
"I like what you did with you hair." Is that sarcasm I detect? No, too complimentary and soft-spoken to be.
"Thank you," I reply in my best monotone voice, as though I don't care. But deep inside, I do. I mean, hello, a senior - and a popular one at that (she has to be for Rahne to even give a shit about her) - takes time out of her day to compliment me? I sense her gaze as she studies my face. Now, we're nearing the bleachers again where we'll work on our routines.
"Where'd you get those cool contacts?" she asks, though this time I notice an undertone to her voice, as if she were secretly trying to ask me about something else. I pull up short at the edge of the bleachers, swinging my arms slightly as I lean back to halt my forward procession. She passes me by a few steps, then turns back around to finish the conversation she apparently thinks we are having. Everyone else is doing somersaults and the splits and such.
I give her the cold shoulder. "Wouldn't you love to know," I spit out and jog away to join one of my other friends, Emily. "Wassup, Emile?" I spot her as she does a handstand into a back bend. I glance up over her stomach to find Jean still staring at me, so I give her the finger and she looks away. I'm not in too good a mood today. I can't even go home for another hour and I have no idea what to make of this whole mutant business.
Fifteen minutes later, our coach yells out across the various strewn bodies of the squad to inform us that we have two minutes of individual work left before we start on whole squad maneuvers. Yippee. I do a back hand spring into the splits. Standing back up, I bring my right leg up behind my head and grasp my ankle there with both hands. I can feel the stretch as I bend over and I concentrate fixedly on a rock below me to hold the position.
"You know, if you need to talk, or there's anything you want to tell someone, I'm always here for you."
I jolt upright, nearly finding myself in a heap on the dried grass as I look around, startled, to see who was speaking to me. To my left is Jean, half turned away now as she goes to join the rest of the team where the coach is telling us what to do. Or, in my case, what we're supposed to be doing. I sigh, resigning myself and rush to be a part of the group. Yay, we're doing a pyramid. All fifteen of us and guess who gets to be on top? Yours truly because she, 'just so happens to be lucky enough to be the smallest, skinniest person here,' in the infamous words of our coach. I hope she burns in hell for that - I'm scared of heights.
So here I am, little old me, staring up about fifty (okay, I'm probably exaggerating, but it's certainly no less than twenty) feet in the air, where I'm supposed to be. Meanwhile, the coach is standing next to me, yelling into my ear to get my ass up there because the squad can't hold that position all day. My eyes trail over the team, passing Emily by until they rest on Jean, who shares yet another reassuring smile. Inside my head, I feel a comforting wave wash over me and I suddenly feel like I can do it. I take a step forward. My vision blurs. The coach yells. I practically fly up there, I move so fast. Carefully and balanced, of course. And...
...I'm there! I literally feel like I'm on top of the world for a few seconds as I relish in the pure joy of my accomplishment. Then I look down. And there goes the bottom of the stack. I open my mouth to scream as I'm pitched forwards, then backwards from the shift in balance, but nothing comes out. The squad lays prostrate on the earth beneath me, holding their heads and various appendages that were damaged in their short falls. All the while I'm still falling.
I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the solid crash of my body breaking into a thousand pieces as it slams into the ground, but the impact never comes. I open first one eye, then the other to find myself literally hovering above everyone's heads, the cheerleading squad and the football team both staring at me. Suddenly, I finish falling, air rushing out of me in a gasp as I grope at the air, trying for a handhold I know isn't there. Instead, a tiny, nearly transparent ball of shimmering light shoots out of my fingers into the sky before exceeding my speed of descent, where it flattens into a pancake on the grass beneath me. I collapse into a heap right in the center of the dazzling white flapjack - and fall through it!
-- Blinking my eyes several times, I find myself sitting on my knees on the ground next to our coach. I rise to my feet.
"What the heck's wrong with you today, Somersby?! Get your ass up to the top of that pyramid this instant! I don't care if you have a fear of heights - cure it!"
I shake my head, suddenly getting the feeling of déja vu. Pressing the heel of a hand to my eye in an attempt to ease the pain of an oncoming migraine, I glance around to confirm it. As I look up at the height of my awaiting platform, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as though I'm about to make a grave mistake, although I'm not sure what. Yet, like the imbecile I am (as I'm sure you're probably acutely aware by now), I still go, racing up the side to reach my goal. Just as I brush the tip of it, I see an intense light open up in front of me like a door, my forward momentum not allowing me to stop until I collide with it. And --
-- I'm laying stomach down on the football field, mouth full of grass. Crawling onto my knees, I stare at my hands as though they're holding flesh and gore and I carefully inspect my entire body looking for God knows what - a hole maybe.
"Are you all right?" I lurch away from the hand placed on my shoulder. It's Jean. Who else? Shocked, all I can do is stare at her before gaining awareness of everyone else crowding around. The football team is pressing in from the left as the cheerleaders hone in on the right.
"What's wrong with your eyes?" Emily asks.
"Yeah, they're, like, a really pale gray. Almost translucent," Kitty adds. I look around at everyone, suddenly realizing that they seem to be moving in slow motion as I drift into a fog. Then, instantly, everything resumes its normal pace when I'm jolted out of the trance by someone shouting.
"What the hell?"
Coach enters the center of the huddled group. Nobody moves to give her room. If anything, they all press in tighter, making me feel as if I'm claustrophobic. I look from one to the other, ears picking up on whispered catches:
"Dirty mutant."
"Mutie."
"What is she?"
"Oh my gawd? Like, what the heck just happened?"
The latter of which I would like to know myself. I see the tides of curiosity quickly turn to accusing glares from people that I've known all my life: Emily, Todd, the coach - the list goes on and on. Tears spring to my eyes and I hurl myself to my feet. Pausing for just a few seconds, I make eye contact once more with Jean. The edges of my vision are growing foggy again. Unable to handle all of it any longer, I turn on my heel and sprint away, unsure of where I'm going.