Lucky Me
Chapter 011
"Another layer?" I questioned as my sensitive back got poked again with a metal device with a long name.
"Yes, so it would seem," Dr. Hank hummed and hawed for a moment behind me, I think they teach that in medical school, but I wasn't too sure. Perhaps he's just a drama que-er, king and happened to like the suspense and dramatic pauses? I wished he would stop doing it though; he started to say something about my mutation and then suddenly became quiet.
"Seem? How does it seem like another layer?" I pondered again, trying to pry information out of a man who usually talked to anything and anyone. Maybe that was why he was Bobby-blockhead's best friend. Grrr.
"All the skin remnants have been removed, correct?"
I cringed; my mind went back about two days when I had been sitting in the shower, nearly losing my lunch as I tried to pick out the pieces of flesh from my black hair with trembling hands. Yeah, I'd say I was pretty much done with the transformation. I was jet black, like my hair, and with big, fluffy wings. The wings were fluffy because of the 'baby' feathers that covered them. The fluffy wings were also useless, except for making me trip, there wasn't really any function to them.
"Yeah," I shivered, "I'm sure."
"Hmm, well, as I have told you, there seems to be another layer of skin forming—one of your natural skin tone." Dr. Hank then poked me in the back again.
Yes! I wasn't going to be completely odd! Don't get me wrong, the wings bothered me, but the dark black skin seemed to put an aura of 'danger' that was so not true. Sounds cool, neh? You live with it then tell me if it's cool or not.
"Then why was I shedding in the first place?"
"I don't know. I can only hypothesize that the emotional peak you had when your skin began to break apart has to do with your mutation. Also, you are still mutating."
This was not reassuring. "I'm not going to grow tentacles or anything am I?"
Please say no! I can live with the big, fluffy, and completely useless wings but I could not live with the fact I would look like a Dr. Who villain of the day.
This caused the big blue doctor to chuckle and reassure me that I was not going to grow anything else as far as the X-rays and blood work showed. How blood work could show this, I'm not sure, but he's the one that went to college for a good portion of his life.
Well, at least that was some good news.
"And for all your hardships, my lady, I feel obliged to reward you for your diligent efforts and patience as you come to know and learn from us here at the mansion," he said all this in one breath, while bowing low. This man had skills!
"Uh," I don't know what exactly he was getting at, "Thanks?"
His back was turned; I should have known this meant something good if he was being dramatic. Dr. Hank got a gold star from me because as he turned back around after digging in one of the many drawers in the medical lab he had in his furry paw a great big piece of packaged sugar.
Yes, I mean a Twinkie.
Normally I tried to avoid them, but I was dying for something processed instead of grown in the middle of a field. I was proud to say, I did control my drooling as my eyes became large and my grin spread across my face like the chocolate coating on a doughnut. And, for the first time in a month and a week, I had a sugary substance in my hand.
"For you, my lady." Dr. Hank gave an enormous grin, and then added, "Now, I hope you respect that I took this from my very secret stash. And if Scott asks," he lowered his voice and leaned in, "You didn't get it from me."
"Gotcha," I said with firm nod. I wasn't sure if I was talking to the great Dr. Hank or the little spongy sweet yummy thing in its little wrapper that sat helpless in my hand.
Then we heard footsteps coming near.
No way! He was not going to get it this time! Quickly, I plucked the pillow up, put my tasty morsel underneath it, and put on the innocent act. If Scott thought he was going to get this, he would have to work for it this time!
"Yo, Hankster." That's when Mr. Hawaiian shirt came through the door. At least it wasn't Cookie-Nazi again, that would just be a bit too cliché for my tastes. The doctor perked up as his friend came in instead of the 'fearless leader' like I heard some call him, "I was sent to tell you Scott wants to talk to you about–something." The man shrugged.
"I see, well Kerry, I guess we'll have to finish this later. Bobby, please entertain my guest until I get back." With that Dr. Hank leapt out of the room and started to hunt for Scott.
I eyed the Iceboy with suspicion. There was something about the way he had sat down in Dr. Hank's swivel chair, the way he clicked his tongue, and the biggest reason was because Bobby-Jerk watched the doctor leave before he broke into a huge mischievous grin.
This wasn't going to be good.
After a few clicks, Bobby-Jerk jumped from the chair and began hunting in the drawers, trying to keep them as neat as possible while trying to find–something. Next he attacked the shelves, inspected behind and in some of the medical equipment.
I told myself not to acknowledge him, to just grab my Twinkie, shove it my mouth and sing the sugar praises. But my better judgment seemed to be a little man against the bigger, louder crying cat of curiosity.
"What are you doing?" I finally asked, this got him to huff in annoyance and return to the chair, eyes drifting all around the room with his eyebrows knitted together in the middle of his brow.
"I know he has a secret stash in here, somewhere-" Bobby-Jerk got up from the chair and started to inspect the bed I was on. Opening and shutting drawers, feeling under the bed, even the space between the floor and bed. "He is a Twinkie hog, and since we aren't supposed to have sweets in the house, I'm desperate."
"Why don't you just ask him for one then?" I asked, annoyed by his digging. I was going to slap him up cross the head if he got too close to me.
"Ha! That's like asking for Kurt to give up his tail!"
I guess I wasn't the only one in sugar withdrawal; Scott had the whole house suffering. I began to wonder if they even had sugar in their Kool-Aid, heck, do they have Kool-Aid?
My mind should have stayed put, because, through the corner of my eye, one second too late, Bobby reached under the pillow.
"Ah-ha!" He chimed.
I blanched.
"Hey! That's mine!" I protested as he began to unwrap it, I tried to grab it, but found my balance to be testy, so I had to grip the sheets to keep from falling off the bed.
"Hmm," he did the Dr. Hank thing, and tipped his head to the side, rubbing his hand that didn't have my treat in his hand on his chin as he studied me. Then, with a grin, he almost danced to the other side of the room, "Come and get it, if you want it."
"But I can't! I can't walk!" I glared at him for all my worth, the treat was getting closer to its demise as I sat there, and he was about seven feet away from me.
"Finders keepers, losers–well, you know." With that Iceboy ate my treat! Making happy noises with each bite, and then licking his fingers clean of the cream left on them from the tiny yellow snacks. "Mmmmmmm, that was worth the search!"
"You are such a jerk!" I fumed; I lost my restrictions with this jerk long ago.
"Yeah, but I am the jerk with a Twinkie in his stomach."
I really needed to think out my actions, I nearly snarled at this heartless excuse for a man as I lifted my leg, grabbed my clog from my foot, and chunked it at his smug face.
Of course it didn't hit him. He ducked, letting it sail pass his head, then stood up, and stuck his tongue at me. Then came the crash.
We both tensed.
The sound of glass breaking in a medical facility could not be good. Bobby-Jerk looked at me, and then turned around to see a few beakers of bright blue fluid dripping down the side of the counter.
We were in so much trouble. Perhaps Bobby-jerk could have gotten some of it clean, had not, like two seconds later Dr. Hank bounded back through the door.
"Bobby, I talked to Scott he didn't–oh my stars and garters! What happened here!" Dr. Hank jumped to the counter, tried to salvage his precious whatever it was. Then, with a look I've never seen, the furry doctor peered over his shoulder to Bobby-Jerk and then to me.
"Don't look at me like that, Hank!" Bobby-Jerk tried to get out of his impending doom and started to back up for the door. Dr. Hank glared harder, with such menace that he even put me to shame. He turned his back to us for a split second, reached into the mess, and then pulled something from it.
"I believe this is yours, Miss D'mon." Dr. Hank held up the glop-covered clog I had been wearing.
"See! I'm innocent!" Bobby-Jerk missed the door and hit the doorframe instead. Dr. Hank shot him a warning look. I swallowed hard, drawing the attention back to me.
"Who's responsible?"
I looked over at Bobby-Jerk, who in all his audacity, was pointing accusingly at me. Well, I'd seen this in cartoons enough; I stuck out my hand and pointed straight back at him.
"I see." Dr. Hank muttered darkly.
I had no idea what was going to happen to us, more importantly, me but I knew it was not going to be pretty.
I'm not going to retell of the speech, but it was long. Dr. Hank got both versions of the story and I got grounded. Professor said I needed to learn to control my temper–I think I rolled my eyes–whoops. Then I was reassured that if there was anything I was having difficulty with, I should address the survival guide, and talk to a superior.
'X-Men Survival Guide to the Mansion' is what he handed me; excuse me if having a survival book instead of a rulebook is a wee bit unsettling. It was a thin book with a spiral bind, I looked at the cover and said I'd read it.
I lied.
I don't like rulebooks. So, as I packed, I was just going to accidentally 'lose' it amongst my other belongings. It was moving day and it just so happened that there were volunteers to help me.
Makes a girl feel loved.
"Hey Kerry, do you know what your name means?" D-M asked bopping into my room. This surprised me, last time she uttered a word to me it was to tell me what a rotten personality I had, and now it's all buddy-buddy again? What gives?
"I thought you weren't talking to me."
"Ah got over it; Ah don't hold grudges like some people." Flopping down on my bare bed and letting the book she held in her hands drop on her lap.
Right, then what was with the snide remark about the person who you had a grudge against, but aren't holding a grudge against?
"So, like, do you know?" She asked as she flipped through her little book with a picture of a chubby baby on the cover. I turned back to folding the sheets and shrugged as response.
"Wow! Cool! Mine means 'Daisy Flower'!"
I almost pitched forward in shock, "What did you think it would mean?"
"Ah dunno, now let's see, they don't have the right spelling but–hey! I'm competent!"
That was debatable! Oh! I can't prove her right!
Bite my tongue, bite my tongue, and bite my tongue.
"And let's see about yours," D-M started to flip through the book again, totally ignoring the fact that I wasn't paying attention to her. "Neat!"
Okay, so I was paying attention to her, and dang it all, I was too curious! "What?"
"Your name means 'dark princess'!"
I did the pitch forward thing again.
"You're kidding me!"
"You didn't know?"
"That stuff never interested me." But it fits; fate really did have a sense of humor. I figured if she was here, she was going to help, so I talked the country mouse with a personality problem (she's mad, no! now she's glad!) into helping me pack.
I shouldn't have talked her into helping me pack.
Since I was literally grounded, I had to ask her to clear out my closet of the tiny number of clothes I had. And as Daisy-Mae helped, she was also giving her personal opinion on everything I owned. Ever know someone who liked to give a back handed compliments? Well, there was no compliment, she was just verbally tearing apart ever thing I owned.
"Dang girl, where did you get this? The clearance rack of the Salvation Army?" She asked, holding up my new favorite shirt.
"Let me guess, the ninety-nice cent shelf?"
"I think this is coming back into fashion."
"Woof."
The more she packed, the worse I felt. I thought she said she didn't hold grudges! By the time the others showed up to help me and my things to the other side of the house–into the men's wing, my head was hung in shame. Daisy-Mae tried to perk me up once she realized I was down, though she couldn't figure out why, by promising as soon as I was let out of the house, we'd go shopping.
"Oh, could we," was my reply. Miss Rogue assisted me to my feet but that was all. Mr. Kurt apparently told them I had to learn to move by myself or I'd never learn, thus the reason why it took me nearly an hour and two bruised knees later to get to the other side. My things were waiting in my new room.
It seemed okay, but I didn't know where anyone else was located, so this was going to be fun. Sighing in relief that I had finally made it, I slowly limped into my room, grabbed the box nearest to me, dropped to the ground, and started to shift through the things.
I smiled bitterly at the irony. Somehow the box got turned upside down because I remembered putting the Survival Guide on the very bottom with a bunch of my 'horrible' clothes.
"Come on, one step without a wall or assistance. It's not so hard." Mr. Kurt said encouragingly.
I grimaced as I held on to the pole attached to the wall for support. He was crossed armed and legged waiting at the end of the pole. I was half a room away from him. My fluffy wings started to cramp again, which Mr. Angel said was normal because of the lack of muscle use.
I didn't have them before to use, so it's not too surprising they weren't used to it.
"I can't!" I cried, holding the pole even tighter.
"Yes, you can. You've gotten a lot stronger since you started, at least you can stand up straight."
"Holding on to something," I reminded him.
"And you just walked half the room without falling or tripping."
"Holding on to something," was I the only one that remembered this oh so important factor?
"I have lost my mutation, meaning my tail, and then regained it. So I know it's hard, but you must try." Just to emphasize his words, his tail flicked behind him.
At least I was going to know how to take a fall.
"Okay," I muttered, taking a deep breath. There was no way this was going to work. I shifted, my wings now pressed against the pole and both arms reaching behind me to steady myself. I closed my eyes.
"What are you doing?" Mr. Kurt asked; his voice dipped with humor.
"Trying to walk."
"On your tip toes?" I looked down at my feet; I was standing on the balls of my feet. Smiling impishly I put my feet down flat, stared across the room, and then again closed my eyes.
I stuck out one leg, but then Mr. Kurt's voice stopped me again, "Are you in the German army? You don't have to step so high, walk naturally." He paused as I lowered my leg, "And open your eyes so you can see where you're going."
Oh, I knew where I was going. It's called the floor and trust me, we've met.
Still, I did both. One leg out, this was a real advancement.
"Let go of the pole."
"Oh, yeah, right." I was kind of hoping he forgot that I was holding it, but then again, he'd have to be blind not to realize that I was. I released it and my weight shifted to the out stretched leg. Okay, I had half a step down. Swallowing hard, eyes opened, and shoulders tensed, I then stuck out my other leg, and–and actually did it!
I was so surprised that I moved forward and not down that I stood there in shock until my instructor told me not to stop, but keep going.
By the time I did stop, I was on the other side of the room, gripping the pole to keep my trembling legs from buckling underneath me.
I just walked!
I turned slowly on my heels but asked for too much in so little time, I tangled my legs and fell backwards. But I didn't care! I was mobile again! I could move! I could have my revenge on the Twinkie eater!
"I did it, right?" I questioned, looking over a smiling blue guy. "I-I mean I actually walked? No tripping, no help, just me?"
"Yes."
I couldn't help myself; I started to cry I was so happy. It was like being prisoner in my own body and then I breaking free and kicking the jailer in the behind as I took back myself.
"Do you want to try again?"
"Nono," I said quickly. "I'm happy with this for right now," Mr. Kurt nodded and said he'd be right back with a towel. When he came back and handed me my towel, my tears had dried, but my smile was still present.
"I guess this means you get to move on to your new challenge," Mr. Kurt started flippantly as if he was talking about the weather.
"What's that?"
"Flying lessons."
What!
