Lucky Me

Chapter 014


I wanted to leave the "X-Mansion", so I, being me, mentioned it to the head guy, Professor Xavier. I thought for sure he'd give me a speech about why I should stay, why I needed to defend the world, and so on. But he did something far more effective for someone my age. Instead of going into fruitless sermon (come on, stuff like that went in one ear and out the other) he just did something so convincing I stuttered out a never mind and ran for cover.

He gave me The Look.

It was worse than my mom's 'don't-even-think-about-doing-it' look, or my teacher's 'shut-up-before-I-do-something-to-get-fired-for' glare, this was a look that simply said-well a lot. It was a 'get over yourself', 'don't be selfish', and tons more. It was one of those looks that anyone would cower to, I'm pretty sure this guy's Grandma would have started to grovel for his forgiveness for him being bald or something silly like that.

I was about to start begging for forgiveness (why, I wasn't sure) had not D-M shown up a second after he had given The Look. I had chills going through me as we stood on the lawn and that's when he began to preach. And two seconds later my attention span took off on a cloud to Shangri-La. Professor, with his back to us (how rude!), went on about how this was the type of prejudice the X-men were created to fight. Also not to be scared about the happenings, they appear frequently, but usually aren't this devastating.

Do the bad guys normally knock before they attack or something?

Glancing back at the house, my eyebrows rose higher on my forehead. The house was broken, with bricks scattered around, and (I went out on a limb and guessed) blast marks were everywhere. There was a gaping hole on one of the wings. I noticed with my mouth dropping open that is was my room. My room. They destroyed my room! And my Stitch doll!

I was being petty because I was trying not to think about Mr. Warren. Mr. Warren with wings like mine. Mr. Warren with wings that are hurt that could be me...argh! I was trying not to think about him!

"Don't worry, Kerry, I assure you Warren will make a full recovery," Professor tried to be soothing, but I felt my feathers (the gray fluffy things?) ruffle. That felt funny. They were actually obeying me.


"It seems as though this is part of your mutation, which you are probably well aware of." Dr. Hank picked at my arm, were more of my normal skin was peeling off...again. I wish it would make up its mind! Either I was going to be black as midnight, or peach! Not both! I didn't want to end up looking like some chess board!

"What did you do this morning before your transformation happened?" He asked, looking at me over his glasses.

"Uh, I woke up to-to the uhm, thingies,"

"Sentinels."

"Yeah, I guess, and then I looked out the window," Like a true idiot. "and that thing, the uh, sentinel kinda blew up my window, and I got thrown back, my Stitch got cut up badly-sorry, and then uh, Bobby-Jer-Iceman came and stopped the thing from killing me, and then I woke up in the big room,"

"Danger Room."

"That's it. That's where it started," I finished. I didn't want to recall my panic attack after seeing Mr. Warren's wings blood stained and limp. Ack! There I went again, thinking about the one thing I didn't want to think about!

"And during this time, you were highly emotional?"

"Well, yeah!" Whoops.

Dr. Hank chuckled, "I see. Then most likely this new 'black' form of your skin is triggered by time of emotional distress. It is a comfort to see that there is no blood during the transformation. Also, it would appear your dark skin is tougher than normal human tissue, so be grateful."

For a leather-like body? Let me write that one down as a huge 'thanks'!

"Is that it?" I questioned, hopping off the examining table. Where they hid Mr. Warren, I didn't know, but there were still traces of the scuffle from that morning. One lone feather sat on the counter, bloodied and alone. When Dr. Hank's back was turned, I became a little thief and swiped the feather, it wasn't like he would need it for any reason, would he?

I tucked it down my shirt; of course this would be when Dr. Hank decided to turn around.

"Oh, one moment Kerry, I do have one final question." I did an about-face, and smiled while the feather tickled my stomach. "About my laundry..."

Oh, crap.


That same night, I sat cross-legged in my-well what used to be my room. It seemed more like a balcony now that a wall was missing. At least there was a nice breeze, too bad the smell latched onto the air wasn't all that great.

I sighed. This was pathetic. I sat in the ruins of my room with my poor de-fluffed Stitch doll in my lap, looking out of the hole in room was sad. There was ice, dirt, and ashes everywhere, not to mention that stink from earlier—the one I woke up with in my hair seemed to cling to everything. It didn't smell pretty. I didn't think anything could smell pretty, but it didn't smell pleasant.

My bed was totally shot. No sleeping there tonight. No sleeping in here tonight, but then where? I was tired! I wanted to go to bed and pretend this never happened, that I was back home—home?

My sister's e-mail!

I looked over to my computer.

There was a part of a window pane sticking out of the screen.

There went that idea.

I actually had the courage to do it this time! I wanted to know what she had to say!

The door creaked open behind me; I didn't bother to turn around. What was the point of telling them to get out when the birds could come in? I guess privacy was a moot point at this time.

"Hey, kid." I should have thrown something at the owner of the voice, but I kinda owed him for earlier, even though I'd never admit it out loud. Who would? This guy was a jerk to me since I'd been here, and suddenly he turned into a jerk with a spine? Life's not fair. Why wouldn't he go away?

I heard the crunch of glass as he walked in, and the creak of my door— the only thing left intact—as he shut it. He knelt beside me, and nabbed Stitch out of my lap.

"Hey!" I shouted and tried to grab my dead toy back into my protective arms. Though, if I really could have protected him, he wouldn't have fluff sticking out of his ears, which was a truly gruesome sight for a stuffed toy lover such as me.

"What's this old thing?" Bobby-Jerk asked, yanking the doll away from me every time I tried to retrieve him.

"That is Stitch," I told him, gave up, and crossed my arms while tipping my nose a bit higher than it should have been.

"I think 'Trashbag' would be a better name," he replied before he flipped the doll at me.

"It's not like it's his fault it was that...that thing's." I protested, a shiver ran down my spine. The glowing eyes in a human's face. It was not natural, yet it had hair. Who would care enough to put hair on a machine?

"Right," Bobby-Jerk let that word hang in the air for a moment before opening his big mouth again, "So you just going to sit in here all night in a pow-wow of pity?"

"No," I replied dryly, "I was thinking of doing a rain dance and the drowning myself in it later."

"Ooh, so there is a part of you that is smart," Bobby-jerk stood up, and then added "too bad it's your mouth."

I turned around, scowled at him, and promptly stuck out my tongue. What a punk and to think I was going to be a little more appreciative to him! Well, not anymore! What a jerk!

He smirked, and put a hand on my head.

"Good to know you haven't lost your spunk," Bobby-jerk said and before I could process his mood swings, he was gone.

One eyebrow rose while I tried to understand what had happened. Thankfully, I didn't get to think too much (very dangerous for my health) because there was another knock on my door. Why they felt they had to knock was beyond my understanding.

Then the door creaked open again, I was ready to start yelling at the jerk (because to think of him otherwise would have screwed with my head even more than it was messed with) for making a reappearance, but as I turned with a mouthful of words to shove down his throat (tired, upset, and cookie-less girls weren't very nice) I spotted Sam instead.

"Hey, you're stayin' in Daisy's room tonight, if that's all right with you," Sam drawled. On D-M the accent was slightly nerve grating, on Sam it was downright cute. But it wasn't like I like him or anything. No, I was smarter than that. But dang, that boy smiled and I started to blush.

Oh heck no, I would not start crushing on him!