Lucky Me

Chapter 010


I was going to kill him!

Not with just something simple like a gun, no! This called for some torture and torment, something that I could almost call a professional sport then he could die! I could hide the body in a cave or by the lake. I could get someone to help me bring it down there. Or kill him when he is in his ice form, then let him melt out of existence.

Yeah, yeah that would work!

It's bad enough that I've been depressed since I've learned that I'm a mutant, but things just got worse when I grew wings (feathers are finally coming in but it is so itchy!) and then, then Bobby "The Jerky Iceman"-correction "Iceboy" Drake decides I need a pick-me-up...literally.

Let me tell it like it was. I get woken up again at sixish, but this time it wasn't by a perky Miss Rogue or the devilishly handsome Mr. Remy (someone that good looking is quickly forgiven for picking on me), oh no that would all have been a blessing. Instead I get an ice bath.

Freezing cold!

Yelping and jumping up at the same time, I was about had a heart attack from the sudden change in temperature. That's not why I wanted to kill Iceboy either. Miss Rogue had used the ice method several times before when I refused to get up (okay, so she only threatened!). I was half on the bed and half of the floor, my top half on the floor and the bottom half tangled in sheets on the bed.

In the doorway I saw the silhouette of Bobby-meanie who, with a single finger, flicked on the lights of my room and stood there smirking at me. I grumbled at him, and cringed as my wings (which were called 'cute' by Jubilee or Jewbiwee with the little gray feathers speckling the black skin) smacked on the floor completely.

"Time to meet Kurt," he said simply.

Grrr, he needed to burn or melt. Something. Was this the end? Oh, no. Life would have continued like before, but Bobby-meanie didsn't know when to quit. Sadly, I had to let him assist me down the hall and steps to the gym where this other blue guy was waiting.

Gold eyes, three fingers on each hand, three toes on each foot, and a tail. My eyes must have left their sockets as he flipped around the place like his tail was on fire. Oh, did I mention his tail had a tip? Like a little arrow type thing?

"Hello," he greeted with a deep accent that I couldn't place. Bobby then decided to drop me on the wooden planks of the gym floor.

"Kurt, this is Kerry," Bobby-meanie introduced, Mr. Kurt smiled showing off his fangs. "Grace, this is Nightcrawler."

"A worm?" I said it instead of thinking it. Whoops. Thankfully all that did was make his fangy smile grow. Whew.

"I hear you have a problem with standing up."

Geez, did everyone know about Kerry's lack of mobility? I nodded and took his outstretched three fingered hand. He was pretty strong for a skinny guy, being able to haul me to my feet is not a small task. I balanced for all of two seconds before I started to sway toward the ground. Bobby-meanie caught me by wrapping an arm around my waist, which meant I did a nose dive into his chest, ick; I wish he would have just let me fall!

Though he smelled good, too.

"Hm, you're too tense." That was the beginning, but wait, it gets worse. "Bobby, could you help her loosen up–outside?"

There was something in the way they exchanged glances and smiles that should have tipped me off. But it didn't. Like a true trusting teenager, I went along with Bobby-meanie. Big mistake. There was a door that led to the 'backyard' of the mansion, after that was open, he told me to hold on to him. Sighing, I wrapped my arms around his neck as Mr. Kurt shouted for me to do. If this meanie tried anything, at least I could choke him into submission.

Wrong.

Before I had time to curse or scream, this ice-blockhead had me about five hundred feet in the air and spiraling quickly to the ground! My screams were about five miles behind me at the point he decided to do this cute little loop-de-loop upwards. He was laughing it up.

My dinner was trying to come up.

"I hate you!" I screamed over and over. Followed by a few shrieks as the jerk headed straight for the trees! "Stop it!" And you know what? He did. He stopped. In mid twist, letting me think we were done until I opened my eyes, and looked around.

We were upside down.

We were about a mile in the air.

I was about to pass out if the adrenaline hadn't kicked in and got me screaming again. "Not here!"

"I was just following orders."

I wished I could have told him to go melt but I was too busy being freaked out at this point.

By the time Bobby-jerk decided that he couldn't take laughing so hard anymore, he stopped right where we had left. He and Mr. Kurt (who I thought was a nice guy, but boy did he just prove himself wrong by being in cahoots with Bobby-jerk) had to literally pry me off of the blockhead's back.

"I think she's more relaxed now," Mr. Kurt chuckled, looking down over me as I gasped for breath, lying on my back on the lawn.

"Naw, I think she could have gone another five minutes," Bobby-jerk laughed.

Man, I hated him!

"Can you get up? Or do you want to go up," he pointed to the sky, "Again?"

"No!" I screamed, and then struggled to get into a sitting position. I muttered something under my breath, when Bobby asked what I said, I almost screamed at him. "I hate you!"

Okay, so I did scream.

"Whoo! No need to lose your temper!"

"Why not! You just made me lose twenty years of my life!" I was fuming at this point; hey, fear and anger go hand in hand. Well, if I survived the thing I feared and by some strange fate I had, this might not seem like something you'd want to murder someone about–but just wait.

"Good thing we got it on tape for," Bobby-jerk paused, smirked, and replied, "future references and your file." I glared up at him. I forgot about those stupid security cameras. And yes, they had to be reviewed, to learn where I was 'weak,' and what improvements they could make on their teaching skills.

Fire Bobby-Blockhead. That would improve their staff 100 percent!


"Are you still mad?" D-M asked, pushing the book I had pretended to be reading out of my line of vision.

"Nope," I lied, yanked the book from her grip, and continued to pretend to read. It was a cookbook, besides not being able to have sweets, wouldn't you know that one of my favorite past times was baking and cooking? Something that probably was prohibited as well as long as I was on my 'diet'.

"You're lying." Daisy-Mae then flopped down on my couch. Yes, the couch in the lower level Rec. room was now mine. I had claimed it. Why? Because after a long speech about how anti-social I was, they locked me out of my own room. Yes, Scott-No-Cookie now held the keys to my room in his pocket. Oh, this I cried and whined about but Professor used his favorite phrase on me again, "I've made my decision."

So I made it mine; the Rec. room couch was now mine.

"Since when did you become a psychiatrist?" I snapped, I was lying on my stomach because my wings made it highly uncomfortable to flip over, and there was about a foot and a half of couch left with me on it, and didn'tcha know, D-M fit it perfectly?

"There's no need for the stinky attitude," she complained in a huff. "I was just trying to be friendly."

"Well, don't," I replied. I didn't want to make nice, not with her, even though she had helped me out with the Monet thing. "Besides, don't you have some sort of cheerleading practice or something to attend? Glee club? Pep Club?"

"No. I'm too fat," D-M replied in a cheerful, though somewhat strained, tone.

"And I'm the one they put on a diet." Man oh mighty, was it the pictures of the roast beef doing this to me?

She seemed to get slightly more upset at this. "Heard you got a training trip with Bobby this morning, was it fun?

"About as much fun as having a swarm of alien mosquitos suck the blood out of me," I grumbled, then in a lower tone, "Or this conversation."

I don't know why I was feeling like being a witch with a capital 'B' but I was, and this poor (ha ha) girl was getting the brunt of it. I flipped through the desserts section of the book when it was completely ripped away from me. I made a funny noise in protest but I had a glaring country bumpkin looking down at me. When the heck did she get up?

"Why are you such a pessimist?"

I laid there for a moment going through my mental dictionary for that last word, and once I found it, I pushed myself up to a sitting position, "I am not! It's better than being a complete flake!"

"I am not a flake! Just because I like to be nice to people doesn't make me a flake! It makes me nice!" She protested, throwing my book down to the ground with a thud.

"You're a game show host in training!"

"Am not! At least Ah don't belittle everyone and everythin' like some people!" She persisted, wiggling a finger in front of me.

"I do not belittle everything and everyone!" I protested, pulling me knees under me for better leverage.

"Sure you do, anytime any one talks to you, you get this bored look on your face and then start rolling your eyes as if they're some type of marbles. And when anyone tries to help you, you are completely rude to them because you don't thank them or anything! Just glare at them! That's belittling! And," the girl thought she was on a roll, "at least Ah try to get along with the people here instead of not even lowerin' myself not to talk to them!"

I was cornered, and when a teenage girl gets cornered, she reverts back to her favorite lines of defense, "Shut up! You don't know me! You can't judge me just because you've shared the same house with me for a couple of freakin' weeks!"

"Tss," Daisy hissed, "It was all the time Ah needed. Now, Ah'm going to go talk to someone who is actually pleasant."

Yes, after that she left. What more was there to say? It cut me like a scroll saw, every little piece of me seemed to be put on the butcher block in the last few days. First Monet pointing out my mistakes, and now this chicken from the country comes pecking at my attitude. So what if I haven't screwed on a smile like she does? So what if I don't talk very much? And rolling my eyes, I never do that!

I then folded my arms and rolled my eyes.

Ee gads! Don't tell me she was right!


I sighed for the fifth time in under a minute.

Welcome to the Batcave!

Okay, so it wasn't the Batcave, but I couldn't get my balancing act right and since Bobby-jerk's little 'tense releaser' didn't work; Mr. Kurt said tomorrow he'd start teaching me for real. The Batcave is the Rec. room where I had been for the past six hours and since the sun went down thirty minutes ago, I have been in the dark. Thus, the Batcave.

I heard people passing in the hall every so often, but I didn't want to call out for help. I feel like such a burden and I didn't want them to think I'm not capable — because I am! Just not at this very moment. I didn't want to make them think I was weak or anything like that. I didn't need to be humiliated anymore than I naturally was by myself.

So I had resigned myself to sit there, in the dark, until a rerun of 'Friends' or some other popular show came on, that way I could yawn and pretend to wake up. This would save my fractured pride and make minimal conversation–man, D-M was right.

Does that thought make my stomach turn or what! Yeah, sure I was a pessimist, but I was a happy ignorant pessimist! Then she had to go and burst my bubble of delusion with her version of the truth. I hated thinking!


It was early the next morning when someone poked me in the shoulder. I groaned as an incoherent protest and tried to get the person to leave me alone. This turned out to be just as effective as the 'I'm dead' response to being woken up–it didn't work.

"Come on," came an accented voice, "You don't want Scott finding out you slept in."

I peeked over my shoulder with a sleepy-eye half opened, it was Mr. Kurt–or Dr. Hank had been laying off the Twinkies? Pushing myself up, I yawned and stretched and then just sat there.

"Are you coming?" Mr. Kurt asked, whipping his tail side from side.

What was Scott going to do if I didn't get up? Wake me up? Tell me to get up earlier? Ha! But, I had this horrible little niche in my normally passive personality; I don't like being told that I couldn't do something! It's different if I believed it but no one tells me I couldn't do something! And D-M basically told me I could only be a pessimist, happy as I am to be that, I didn't like her thinking she could peg me out so quickly.

So what did that mean? That I forgave and forgot about the things Mr. Cookie Monster and Bobby-blockhead did to me? No. They still had to die, but it did mean that I would become a social butterfly. I'd be so sickly friendly that they'd beg me to be more like my old 'real' self. Yeah! I could do it!

I struggled to the end of the couch and clambered to my feet. I was ready! I was pumped to prove that hill billyette wrong! I was–falling!

"Ack!" I let out before I landed in a thump, hitting my elbow on the table on my way down.

Okay, so I'd be sickly sweet later, right now, it was time to get my balance back. A task proving easier said than done. With Mr. Kurt just staring at me with a bemused look on his face, I guessed he wasn't going to be helping me anytime soon. No indeed, he arched a blue eyebrow, and asked if I was going to get up any day soon.

"I'm coming." I replied in a sleepy, yet happy (ick) tone. And then I did it, slowly but surely, I made my way past the couch.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Kurt asked, as if it wasn't obvious.

"I'm crawling," I answered and so I was, on my hands and knees. My wings were more or less pretty useless to me (or so Mr. Angel said) until I got my equilibrium back and then he'd take over teaching. This was great incentive for me to start putting more effort into regaining my balance (yes, that was sarcasm).

"Why are you crawling?" Mr. Kurt sighed as I came to a rest as his three-toed feet. Where did he buy his shoes for feet like that? "You should be trying to walk."

"Gotta crawl before you can walk right?" I urged with a nervous laugh, this only got me a fangy smile and no help. This guy really meant for me to learn and quick.

As if he had read my mind Mr. Kurt popped off with, "God helps those who help themselves."

Another nervous laugh, this was going to be a long lesson.

They had to be kidding me! They were not serious! Of course, this was Professor and Scott I'm talking about, those that don't know how to joke or play around. Well, Scott had a cruel side and liked torture but didn't do normal humor! So what on earth was wrong with them? I know! It was the same thing that D-M was smoking that made like this! She gave them some of her whacky weed and the two men in front of me had turned completely, for lack of better words, wacko!

"Why?" I squeaked at their announcement. Actually they had announced several things. First was my not returning to school to finish the school year since there was only a month or so left. I'd repeat the grade (ick), and instead would be getting lessons from the Professor for mental coaching (something about me thinking too loudly?) and some other things, but above all–they were moving me to the men's wing!

I kid not.

"I've explained this to you," Professor Xavier sighed, "Since you are being taught by Kurt, Remy, Warren, Scott, and being watched over by Hank, it makes perfect sense to move you where they can watch you. This way you'll be able for higher levels of education in your mutant powers in half the time if you were constantly being taught."

"B-b-but I'm a girl!" I protested, feeling the sweat on my brow form. Not only did they decide to lock me out of my present room but now I was going to get a new room, which I knew they had full intentions of locking me out of still. Me, anti-social, ha! I spent the entire night in the Rec. room...but what did that matter? Scott smiled at this outburst, weak and pathetic as it was, and decided to take this point of the conversation into his hands.

"As we are well aware," he reassured, which wasn't very reassuring. "Since there is only one main bathroom in the Men's wing, we'll draw up a shower schedule and the like for you and the others on the wing. Just remember to lock the door behind you."

My black cheeks would have been beat red if you could see red through black. This was so not fair! This was so not going to happen! There was no way!

"And your room will be close to the showers, which is roughly in the middle of the hall," Professor went on about certain things, like how the rooms were about two feet shorter and such. I was panicking at this point, and didn't really care about floor space! I was being moved to the men's wing, and above that I would be smack dab in the middle!

What was wrong with these men! Didn't they realize my reputation was at stake? What would I tell my mother (who I believe is denying my very existence at this point) that, oh, yeah, Mom, I'm living with a bunch of guys and man is it fun! Right. She'd kill me! If she ever talked to me again, I really miss her.

And my snobby baby sister...but what am I thinking? Back on track Kerry Michelle! You're being booted into the middle of testosterone land!

"You'll be moved in two days, this weekend," Professor Xavier chimed in, my heart was now pounding in my ears, I felt the tears of some emotion start to burn my eyes. "So please be boxed up and ready to go by then, Kerry."

I might as well pack my stuff for Goodwill to take it, I was going to die of embarrassment, I just knew I was. I was going to be closer to Angel, Sam, Bobby-blockhead-oh man! I was going to be closer for him to victimize me! At least Scott lived at the boathouse, where ever that was. Why didn't they just shoot me when they met me?

I just knew it was going to be a dreadful experience, probably at the end of the time I was here (which I am thinking is bridging on forever) I was going to make a vow of never being married.

Or become a nun.

At least black was slimming.