Lucky Me
Chapter 050
"You've never ice skated before?" Dr. Hank laughed at me as he whizzed by. Where they found skates big enough for that man, I'd never know (nor would I ever ask).
"Not with wings!" I griped as I zeroed out again (aka fell on my rump). Darcy and Arty also eased by me, and I shuddered as Grandma's ice skating skirt (very, very short velvet skirt) flapped up as she went right past me. "I give up."
"Good, that means you'll stop making craters in the ice every time you fall!" I glared very hard at Chris. You think the jerk would have some compassion about his leader-type person being a paraplegic on the ice!
"Skate into a snow bank or something," I growled. Anyone want to guess that I didn't enjoy being publicly humiliated? Thankfully, most of the people didn't come out. Most of them being wise and preferring the heat to skating around on a giant frozen pond (and frozen solid thanks to Miss Oreo and Bobby-Jerk).
"Why don't you, like, just flap yourself around?" D-M asked, coming to a stop in front of me. I sighed and muttered about my hurt wing not being able to flex that well yet. "Oh yeah, right, sorry!" And then she, too, skated off.
"Come on," he said, gliding up to me, grabbed my hands, and helped haul me to my feet. I could feel Jean's heavy glare on my back but I chose to ignore it. He was paying attention to me in public! As she came closer, he began to instruct me and while I was still falling all over myself, Jean decided to break us up. Big surprise there.
"I can help her more than you can," I sighed as she said his name a little too sweetly, "I can steady her with my telekinesis."
Oh thank you. He took the hint and raised his hands in indifference to the red head and left, and of course, without his support, I ended up on the ice… again.
From my now sitting position on the ice, I looked up at her. She was looking over to where he had taken off to. "I thought you said you had me with your tele-k-whatever."
Jean looked down at me, "Sorry, I was making sure you had enough space when we tried."
What? She was calling me fat, too? I was not. According to Dr. Hank I had barely any fat on my body, thank you!
She seemed to notice my mind rant, "It's only for your wings, Kookie."
Uh, that—would make sense.
My ice skating attempt came to a close when Jean ended up throwing snow at Mr. Remy with her telekinesis (she corrected me on that mispronunciation quickly!) after he pinched her behind. Scott saw this, and gently blasted him into the nearest snow pile. I shouldn't have to say that Grandma took full advantage of his helpless state and rewarded his mischief with a couple of pinches of her own, he didn't seem to mind until he knew who it was (apparently he thought it was Miss Rogue or something). Where was I? Face first and sliding on the ice until I tripped up Sam and we ended up stacked on each other.
After this (and having about five other people who were too distracted by the Cajun who was cussing and trying to run on skates to get away from Arty) people tripped over the Kookie/Sam heap and joined us on the ground (ice, very, very cold ICE). I officially gave up for the day. I was smooshed, and they manage to hit my still very much sore wing.
"That was fun." Darcy danced around me like some fly buzzing here and there and chattering away.
"Ah think Ah ripped muh new pants," Sam grumbled.
I think I ripped my spleen, but why should that matter. I was NOT going to get into uniform any time soon that was for sure! My behind was probably turning lovely shades of black and blue as I spoke and that thing they had the nerve to call a uniform showed half my back side!
Just because Paige could run into battle with nothing but her skin and her long hair didn't mean I was ready for that! And hopefully I never would be ready for anything like that!
When we got back to the mansion, all with several lumps and bruises due to the skating adventure, Mr. Remy was still trying to get away from Arty, they had both ditched the skates and were now in socks ducking and weaving in the main room.
"She's in pretty good shape for a woman her age," Dr. Hank commented.
Yeah, goodness knows she gets enough exercise chasing the guys and all.
"This is quite interesting, Miss Summers."
What? My blood now knew how to sing and play guitar or something?
Dr. Hank looked up from his microscope and had a huge grin on his face.
"My suspicions were correct! You are still mutating!"
…was I supposed to be happy? He had told me as much a few months earlier but never really went into detail. I guess this was detail time! And to think I could be eating cookies right about now too.
"As I hypothesized, your wings may be a part of your mutation, but it is not the whole of it. In fact, your mutation appears to be rather, well, wishy-washy is the only expression I can think of at this moment." Oh goody. "Jean has confirmed that even your mental shields-"
"My what?" I had little knights running around in my head fending off telepaths or something?
"Your protection against telepathic probes," Why did that sound so wrong? And I guess I was right about the little knights! "But back to the fascinating part."
What, little men aren't interesting? Okay, maybe I should lay off the sugar…
"Your brain chemistry seems to have reacted to the constant interference in your mind, and is actually building up a sort of immunity to it."
I brightened at this, "You mean they can't read my mind anymore?"
I would be so happy! That meant I could think anything I wanted to without Jean or Professor doing spit takes on me when my thoughts wandered in the Weird realm.
"Uh, not quite, Kookie, but it is giving them less of a headache." Wasn't that a lovely sentiment? "Just like your super strength, the mental shields are most prominent when you are experience heightened emotions such as stress, embarrassment," with those two listed, there shouldn't be any more to go. I stayed either stressed or embarrassed. "Angry, trapped, or frightened."
He went on and on about one thing or another, I kept thinking of ways to scare myself constantly so my mind wouldn't be 'opened' to the world. By the time the science lecture was over, I found D-M waiting outside the ed. Lab to have a 'chat' with me.
"You were in my room, weren't you?" I swallowed, gave a nervous laugh and began to make a bee line for more people. "Kookie, honestly you were in my room weren't you?"
I didn't want to answer her, so I lied.
"No, you see I'm discovering I have a new mutation and part of it is telekinesis." Big, big lie. I had no 'brain' power whatsoever (as my math teacher could testify). "So I was never technically 'in' your room, I just—stood in the doorway?"
"Really?" Then she seemed to get all happy again. "That is so cool!" She did her springy hop thing a couple of times and I thought I was off the hook,"But you see, Ah know it's a complete lie. You saw my—secret didn't you?"
Again, I swallowed.
"Heh, that you have Hello, Kitty underwear?" I faked a laugh and stepped into the main room, where the heck was everyone? "I knew that already from doing laundry oh so long ago."
D-M seemed to get lost in a memory, "Yeah, you completely bleached the pink off of it." She smirked. I just smiled and tried to strain my ears to hear someone. "But really, you can't tell anyone."
"About your underwear?" I questioned, finally hearing Chris' rants about a video game, I couldn't believe I was going to him for help. Not really help, but the fact that I was actually seeking him left a horrid taste in my mouth. "No problem. I've seen worse."
I spun around so quickly it took a minute for me to register what had happened. D-M had grabbed my arm and made me look at her. The face I was greeted with was not a happy one to say the least.
"Ah mean it. Please don't tell anyone, Ah'm not sure they'd understand."
No kidding! I didn't understand! (not that I wanted to though, I did not want to get too close)
"S-sure."
Daisy smiled and nodded.
"Good! Ah'm glad you can sympathize!"
I wouldn't exactly say that. I didn't have a butchered picture on my dartboard!
Or, well, I didn't feel like thinking about it, I'd get freaked out all over again.
Two days before New Year's and there I sat scrolling through a list of names and places at two in the morning. I was curious about the heritage of my new "family". I was deadly curious because I heard so many groans and comments about "Not another Summers!" when I was introduced to people. Me being my ingenious self (and having full access to the computer bio files thanks so much to being the leader of my nameless little team of teens…okay, so I lied, I figured out Scott's password and have been logged on illegally).
All I did was type in 'Summers' in the 'last name' slot, and I'd been shifting through the names ever since. I started at ten when Darcy went to bed.
"What are you doing down here?" I nearly fell out of my chair; I had been down here so long without any interruptions that the sound of a human voice almost made me go into seizures. Looking over my shoulder I saw someone else I really didn't know, I think they called her Kitty or Dippy or something like that.
"Playing games," I answered, and shrunk the window I had been reading. "Can I help you?" I really didn't mean to sound mean- oh-kay, so maybe I did, but oh well. I wanted privacy!
"You're Kookie right?"
"Yeeess."
"I'm Kitty."
I sighed, and turned back to the screen. "Oh." I heard her make a noise (what's with these people and their weird noises?) and I looked back her.
"Do you need any codes for cheating?"
"No, I think I got it, thanks." Real friendly conversation I know, but I didn't want this 'chick' around at the moment.
"What are you playing?"
I was playing annoyed because you won't leave.
"Nothing." Hey, at least it was the truth!
"What were you playing?"
I rolled my eyes; couldn't someone do some digging in the personal folders without getting the third degree? It's like you couldn't do anything wrong without being interrogated (boy did that sound condemning!)! When I didn't answer, I heard her walk over to the other side of the room and log on to a computer. I looked over my shoulder back to where she was typing away like a person possessed, and so I pulled up Scott's file again.
Five minutes later, I heard a noise again.
"You shouldn't be looking at those files. They're confidential."
I about died.
"W-what are you talking about?" I asked pulling up a game of solitaire to hide my guilty poking abouts.
This Kitty girl looked over at me, and pushed herself away from the console she was using, it was—the same as my screen!
My jaw dropped. "I hacked into your computer. Scott was having trouble logging in and wanted me to check things out. I think he'd be interested to know you've gotten hold of his password."
I was going to burn forever, "He gave me the password."
I lied. I was having a serious problem with that the last two days.
Kitty raised one eyebrow, shrugged and said, "Then it's his own dumb fault he can't log on." She clicked off the hacking program or whatever and turned with a smile (I couldn't believe she actually bought that horse manure!). "Just don't go into the journal
parts." She smiled innocently; waited about two minutes, "Want me to show you how to get to them? They make better reading than soap operas!"
"Sure!" I was going to die for lying about Scott and to D-M and to this computer cat girl, but at least I could do some serious blackmailing while I was at it!
If I lived that long.
I hadn't slept all day, so big surprise when I crashed on the couch first available opportunity I got. I had spent the rest of the early and late morning going between the fact (what really happened) and the journals (mission logs. Apparently the members were supposed to keep logs about how each trip 'made them feel.' How weird was that?). And Adrian was down there solo, playing video games and since I couldn't kick him off the couch he became part of my bedding. His lap turned into my pillow.
"What were you doing?"
I muttered some response that lead to his 'uh-huh' answer as he went back to gloating over the other drivers in his little racing game thingie. Why he played these games I didn't know, he had both access to a car and to a light simulator (which he was supposed to be practicing with, we all were, but I thought it was dumb that I should have to learn to fly all over again).
"Man! This game is rigged."
Oh,sure.
"You sure you just don't bite at it?"
"Thanks for the everlasting encouragement, Kookie." I was just about to go to sleep when he turned off the video game, and popped in a video/DVD whatever, I had my eyes closed and my ears opened. How did he do this without disturbing, the sleeping Kookie? His metal arm forming power stuff, think Terminator 2, but only in the arms. He actually sometimes looked really cool when he was practicing with those arm blade things.
"Hope you don't mind going to sleep to this," Adrian commented half-heartedly. I opened one eye and glanced at what it was, and lo and behold, it was The Matrix. You know the non-crappy first one?
Oh yeah, like I was going to go to sleep with Reeves on the screen! Uh-huh, oh yeah sure! If I did, maybe I'd have a nice dream about him saving me from this life I was in.
A day later and my world, as haphazardly as it was, that started to come back together—shattered.
New Years Eve and I have been punched in the gut (figuratively, not literally).
"Kookie?" I felt someone shake me, but there was no way I was able to respond. "Are you okay?" Again, the shaking and my grip tightened on what was in my hand.
I couldn't even think straight.
Unless they actually said my name, I didn't even hear the people around me. I knew Jean was in front of me, trying to get me to 'snap out of it' but it wasn't that easy, if it only was.
I felt a hand on my forehead, and then I felt a tug in my hands. That's what broke me out of it.
My first reaction was like all my first reactions, I glared at the person in front of me as I grabbed possession back.
"Don't touch me!" I screamed, and when I came back 'in the zone' of reality, I noticed that I had several people looking at me strangely. I was by the Professor's office, and they apparently had been having a Cub Scout meeting or something in there, and since I was on my knees screaming at Jean, this must have seemed interesting to them.
"Kookie, calm down." Jean tried to place, what I think would have been a reassuring hand, on my shoulder but I pulled away so violently that she didn't even act not surprised by me. "What's wrong?"
I looked down into my hands, and then back up to her. The thing was useless to me now, but that automatic reaction of crying started to kick in, so I did the only thing I thought I could do which was to throw the phone to the floor, pick myself up quickly, and run down the hall.
For once in my life here I wasn't followed by anyone and have them cluck out that super annoying question of 'do you want to talk about it?' That would kill anyone's patience faster than a lot of things. I couldn't fly anywhere, my wing was healing but it still wasn't able to be used for flight not to mention there was a slight snow storm going on outside. It was a rumored that Chris' cookie had found its way into Miss Oreo's bed last night. This resulted in a very unamused Storm because she didn't know who had been in her room after Mr. Remy swore he didn't know what happened to the 'little man' gingerbread cookie.
And I still couldn't hole away in my room, they'd know to look for me there (and if they didn't they'd hear my sneezing my feathers off). Tears were still in my eyes as I changed quickly into a new outfit and made my way downstairs. No one even batted an eye as I marched by with my (figurative) little dark storm cloud above me.
I had been at this place way too long. Before, I would have confided in cookies of some sort, but now? Now I went to work out to release some tension (and to beat the living daylights out of something or someone to make them feel worse than me). And wouldn't luck have it that he was the only one in the weight room at the time?
"Hey, Kookie, what's going on?" He must have noticed my pet rain cloud (not really, but that would be cool if Storm lent me some of her powers, I'd go around zapping Kurt for interrupting us all the time). But more than that, I would zap the phone.
"Wanna play?" I asked walking over to the mat that took up half of the floor space in the weight room. I was glad it was him and not Scott or something. That would suck to have Scott here, he could wipe the floor with me and I had adrenaline to work off.
For once the 'sexy' grin and the raised eyebrows didn't have any effect on me, I was ticked/confused, in need of a shrink/whatever, but it didn't work so he shrugged, said 'sure' and followed me over to the mat. To set the mood he hit the volume on the radio and blasted the CD he was playing. He did a mock bow, and I just gave him a flat glare.
"Let me guess, you don't want to talk about it?" He smirked; I guessed he realized that his cute smile wasn't working this time. Getting into an attack position he started to slip into fighter mode, popping his neck, and shifting his eyes into a glare.
"Is that supposed to intimidate me?" I was getting cocky, come on, this was him and he was a wimp. Bad thing for me, I didn't check with my brain before I let him know this. And when I did call him a wimp, boy, did I regret it. We had been sparring for about five minutes with a duck and weave type deal going on, when I said, "Maybe I should have gotten someone that isn't such a wuss."
He tilted his head to the side and had an amused/disgusted look, "A wuss? I'm a wuss again?" He gave an annoyed laugh, "and when did this happen?"
"Well, come on, you've always been a wimp," I said this without much care, and for once, he growled and lunged at me. I'd been practicing my 'flips' and
though startled at first I was able to get my foot in his gut and send him into the next wall. But while I was trying to ignore my throbbing wing, he apparently flipped in air and charged again, and this time I couldn't block. We slammed down into the mat (more like I cushioned his fall and I hit pretty hard) so hard in fact that the breath was knocked out of me. Before I could recollect my now smashed-into-the-mat brain (that had been dressed in Gothic gear -you know, dark and moody?-when I came into the room) he pinned me like an insect for science class. I struggled, but apparently my strength was concentrating on going 'ow ow ow ow!' because my wing was in pain (not to mention my pride).
"I'm sorry, is the 'wuss' too much for a strong girl like you?" He asked. I glared at him and tried to raise myself, but he slammed me back down. My arms were above my head, both of his hands keeping them there (okay, he wasn't so stupid as to think that one hand could hold me) and his knees where painfully and uncomfortably pressing into mine. I was face to face with this person! Argh!
Usually I would die to be able to get this close to him, but at that moment, with hurt pride, confusion, and pain soaring through me, I wanted nothing more to wipe his angered expression off his face.
"Get. Off," I commanded, forgetting that I was supposed to be a 'Summers' and going straight for my Saturday-morning-kick-butt-class-instruction-of-Mr.-Logan type voice/growl/command/threat.
"Nope." He reverted to that smug smile and if I knew where my super strength flew off to I'd shoot it down and drag it back! "We are going to have a little talk."
Uh-oh.
"Why?" I was still upset (ticked off, whatever, right?) and I was going to fight this to the end.
He rolled his eyes.
"Because you're constant swinging emotions are getting a bit on the annoying side."
"Then get off of me so me and my annoying self will go and play with someone else."
He lost all his smugness and it turned into curiosity (creepy looking curiosity), "Oh yeah, and who might that be?"
I spit out the first name that came to mind, "Adam."
He got an angry glint in his eyes, and it was enough of a distraction that I felt his grip loosen somewhat. I had my opportunity for freedom. Trying to do a fast, hard sit up to knock him off balance, his senses took the short cut and came back quickly but not his sense of niceness as he slammed me once again back into the mat with all his strength.
Maybe I shouldn't call him a wimp or talk about Adam in his presence, apparently Adam was a threat to him somehow?
"Talk."
I didn't answer. I wasn't a magic eight ball you could shake and get an answer from. I just didn't work that way.
"Come on, Kerry."
I wanted to growl at him for using the 'intimate' real name of mine. If his 'charming' side didn't work on me, why on earth would that?
I didn't answer him with anything but a glare. Like I said, he was really close but a ticked off girl wasn't a romantic thinking girl. In fact it was the last thing on my mind, so he could have been spouting poetry and I'd still be fuming and glaring.
Then he kissed me.
No dramatic build up, just bam! Right there on the mat without any 'romantic' scenery or anything. Just bam.
And that worked to—well, it startled me enough to talk.
At least, until the guy who called himself Cable or Gable or something like that walked in and about died. But instead of dying, he glared and I didn't doubt he could have taken his (his-his not his-Cable/Stable) head off the way the glowing eye went all shiny like Scott's when he got mad.
We weren't doing anything questionable, even though he still had me pinned and was still really close.
I guessed that Cable/Gable/Stable guy just had an active imagination…heh.
Grandma's 'plan of attack' was still in 'full swing', she still wanted us to get all dressed up to get him jealous enough to stop playing games with me. I felt like an idiot on New Year's Eve dressed up in a dress that did more than give hints at "what I had" it gave a friggin' map with the freaking directions!
But before I was able to go out, I felt a 'need' to talk to someone else about what happened (this need was implanted into my brain by him after Cable almost glared him into non-existence) and he said Stitch was not an option. He suggested someone who was 'involved' in this whole mess and since I wasn't talking to Jean that meant Scott. Scott was busy running some of the older newer recruits through the Danger Room at full speed. He was in the 'god seat' and pushing as many buttons as he pleased so those in the room beneath would suffer.
I had a long coat on (and not much under that, I was afraid that whenever Grandma and I got to where we were going and I took off my coat I was going to get arrested for indecent exposure or something! Did I mention I was modest and Arty was not?) I went Scott-hunting and of course he was where everyone said he would be. Weird thing was when I got into the control center the man was laughing about his little antics.
He was one sick puppy sometimes.
"Uh, Scott?"
He looked toward me and then clicked off the comm. link between this room and the one downstairs.
"Take a seat," he said flippantly, waving toward one of the bolted down swivel chairs (must everything be bolted down?) and I carefully sat down in it and waited for him to stop pressing every single button on the face of the control thing. "That should keep them busy."
I heard several bangs and a boom or two and wondered if 'keeping them busy' was keeping them dead?
"What is it?" Scott asked, leaning back and turning to face me with one eyebrow raised and suddenly I felt really dumb again. So I gave a nervous smile and laugh combo before I ever opened my mouth. Scott just kept looking at me. I guessed he had that patience thing down pat, by now if I was him looking at me I would have gotten fed up with me and said spit it out.
"Uh, well, it's uh," Where was Jean to rip it out of my mind when I wanted her to? "I-I was j-just," working on my Porky Pig impression, how was it? "Uh, I guess I wanted to talk."
He did a laugh and smirk thing (which equals to a 'duh' in Scott language) "I'm listening. Is it about your team?"
"Uh, no."
"Your sister?" I guessed he wanted to play 20 questions. He stiffened a bit, "Is she okay? Nothing happened right?"
"No, she's fine." And pouting like crazy because Arty refused to let such a minor go where we were going. So when I showed her my dress and me in it, she said I looked like I was in a red hefty bag. Great kid wasn't she? Sheesh.
"So this is something about you?" He asked, drawing out every word like I was going to stop him.
When was it not something about me? Honestly!
"Sorta."
"Sorta?" He sighed, "Kookie, I gave the team down there a tough program but it won't last long enough for me to guess what's wrong, can you just tell me."
Oh sure, if I could 'just tell' you I would have walked in, sat down, and started to jabber on about why I wanted to beat the living spirit out of someone this afternoon. Of course he probably already heard about what Cable walked in on, I mean come on, that big guy with white hair was Scott's real son. I was so confused when I read that little tid bit in the files. My head still hurt when I thought about it!
"It's about when I-yelled at Jean."
If he had any reaction at all it was well hidden. Not so much as a flinch. Was he used to people randomly screaming at his wife?
"Go on."
Correction. Scott's voice got deeper; therefore he did have a serious reaction. This was quickly getting out of my favor. Oh joy.
"It wasn't that she did anything weird or anything," Besides about a week and a half ago calling Heather a blood thirsty person (which I was completely denying, though I knew it was true, what would Darcy think?).
He did this tightening of the jaw bit, I guessed that meant 'continue but be careful what you say'.
"It's just that I got a phone call from someone." My throat was started to tighten, apparently my brain was pulling a Scott and trying to keep other things busy to prevent me from spilling my guts and crying again.
"Anyone any of us know?"
"My-" I could barely speak, "mom."
His reaction was immediate. He told the people downstairs to keep themselves busy by fighting themselves and such, and then Scott turned all his attention to me.
"What did she want?" he seethed. "What else can she do?"
By this time, I was crying, and feeling every little crack in my heart take the salt from my tears and rub it in harshly.
"S-she wasn't mean," I tried to defend; I couldn't believe I tried to defend her. "She was nice and friendly-like before."
"Nice? Her?" Scott seemed disgusted that I should have used that word with her. "What was the conversation, Kerry? She's not supposed to have any contact with you whatsoever."
I tried to wipe away the tears with the edge of the coat sleeve. Scott was really getting upset, and I thought it was at me!
"I had to talk to her! I didn't know I wasn't supposed to!" I started to cry harder. This threw him off balance enough to calm down, and before I knew it, Jean was there.
"Kerry, calm down." Easy for her to say! At least she wasn't fussing at me. That's when the 'brain chat' started.
/We're not upset with you, we're just concerned because we know the last time Heather spoke to you-/ no need to finish that thought. /Just relax and let me hear what she had to say./
Since I had yet to learn how to kick her out of my head, she went directly to the memory of my Heather's phone call, only after she saw the memory about me and him in the workout area. I thought she was going to explode into flames right then and there.
"She said what?" Arty didn't seem to take the information about my mom's phone call any better than Scott and Jean.
"She said 'happy birthday' and didn't sound mad at all. She even said she—loved me before she said good-bye." I shrugged and hugged my trench coat even tighter around me.
"I'm sorry to hear that kitten," Arty actually sounded like a real Grandma for a moment, but just a moment, 'cause less than a second later, "Perk up! We are going to have us a good time tonight!"
Among the drunks and the other people trying to kiss people at midnight? Oh yeah, loads of fun.
"Yeah."
"Come on, that young guy won't know what hit him."
Sure wasn't me who hit him; he stomped me into the ground today, and then kissed me. If I had the heart to, I'd get mad at him for it, but I was just sick of being mad, the numbness in my chest was rather nice.
"We'll win this little game! You'll see."
"I don't want to," I whispered before my brain jumped out of its seat and wondered how the heck my mouth talked without checking with it first. "I'm sick of games, Grandma."
"Oh, come on, kitten!"
"No," I stated again. I was so tired of this grind on my heart and my mind. I was fine, even somewhat learning to live without Heather, but now? Now I was back to where I was when she hung up on me the first time I tried to call when I got to New York. I had to start all over! What was wrong with that woman? Why couldn't she just leave me alone?
"All right then," Arty said in a quiet voice, "We won't play any games, but we will get you feeling better."
If it has anything to do with male strippers, I was not interested.
"Thank you," and then my brain kicked my voice box to finish my thoughts, "How?"
"Silly, the way you make every female in the D'mon or Summers family line feels better—chocolate malts!"
Sometimes I really loved that woman. Sometimes.
A week later, and I was feeling a bit better. My wing was going to come out of the cast any day now, and for some unknown reason Chris' gingerbread man had now been spotted in Mr. Warren's room. And the woman's wing officially stunk to the point there was a hunt and destroy to find the cause of the scent. At first they thought the plumbing had backed up, someone forgot to do their laundry or that there were dead rats or something in the building.
What they found was the "prank" I pulled which was putting an open milk carton in the heating vent in the hall and let it rot. D-M about threw up everywhere when they found the little prize and then they wanted my head on a golden platter (at first they thought it was Bobby-Jerk and swore if he ever went into their wing again they'd castrate him when he finally was able to prove his innocence, they went for me instead).
So now, with Darcy, my 'team' was down at the boathouse on the porch (the weather was in the seventies thanks to Miss Oreo) with some of the 'higher ups' learning CPR. Interesting thing was there was no practice dummy so someone had to be it.
"I am not kissing a guy!" Chris fumed; Adam and Adrian quickly nodded in agreement.
Scott had paired us up and Jean about lost it when Scott innocently paired me and him (him being him-him not him-Scott). In fact she must have sent him (Scott-him) a rather 'loud' message because he requested she not shout next time. So to ease away any other 'mess ups' Scott volunteered to be the dummy. Actually, Gambit (Mr. Remy) volunteered to be the girls' dummy, but then, like always, Grandma popped up out of nowhere and that was a completely different fiasco.
"You're not kissing anyone, you are saving their lives."
"Can't that be optional?"
"Chris!" D-M screamed, picking up one of her CD cases and throwing it at him, "Behave."
"Yeah, Chris why don't you practice with Daisy? After all you two have that opened mouth thing down pat," Adrian teased.
Chris went blood red with embarrassment and Mr. Warren and a few of the other guys cracked up.
"Doesn't mean he's any good at it," D-M muttered under her breath. I raised an eyebrow at this.
"Kookie, are you going to be the reasonable one and set an example?" I about went white. Me? Kiss Scott? No way!
"Uh, sure," I said, then remembered I was leader, "Get to it D-M."
She got the most 'Say what!?' look on her face.
"Oh, heck no!" D-M crossed her arms against her chest, "Ah'm not into old men."
"Chris?"
He glowered at me. I shrugged and gestured toward where the little too willing of a victim (Scott) lay. With this dangerous look on his face, Chris walked over, and before we knew what he was doing, he stomped his foot and blew in Scott's general direction.
"What are you doing?" Scott asked, a little less than amused at his antics.
"Giving CPR to someone I don't like," He was so dang smug about it, there was nothing to do but groan and roll our eyes.
"Grow up, sparks," Adrian said, flipping his eyes.
Needless to say, when Dr. Cecilia brought a dummy from the local hospital we were all thrilled. Though Chris made her clean it three times before he'd touch it.
What a wuss!
I mean she only had to clean it twice for me.
I ran my fingers through my hair; I hadn't had a trim or cut since I came here. I guessed I really didn't think about it before because since I could remember my mo-Heather, had been my hair dresser. So not having her around to make me sit and be still every three months just left my hair forgotten. It wasn't fair.
Why'd she have to call?
Scott and Jean said they'd take care of it. They had exchanged curious looks while I was freaking out thinking I had done or said something wrong (not that I did that often…..riiiight).
I couldn't get to sleep. I was still at the boathouse (it was a half a week after New Year's and I had been avoiding him at all costs, I wasn't sure whether to blush or to beat him up for finally kissing me in such a way!) and Darcy was in a cot beside me, so there I sat with my fingers in my hair, my mind on Heather, and nothing to do but stare at my feet.
In my own nonchalant way I asked Darcy whether Heather said anything about me or not, she shrugged, and that was my only answer. A shrug. No other reply, no matter how hard I tried to pry something out of her, she would just shrug all over again or do that 'I dunno' line. For the first time in a long time I wanted to strangle teenagers in general, which would mean me too so I decided not to do that.
Sighing I climbed to my feet and after not so quietly leaving the room I stumbled down the stairs to the living room. It was around two in the morning (my favorite time!) and the one thing I loved about Scott and Jean's house was that there was more of a chance the television being free then at the mansion with several other people who might have had insomnia that night.
The bad thing?
They only had cable. After getting spoiled to the super duper 500 or more channels at the mansion, a mere 50 was like the poor man's meal. Of course they also had the massive DVD collection which took up half a wall. Most of the movies were from the sixties or seventies and there was a whole shelf full of 'The Three Stooges'.
I guessed everyone has a secret obsession. Mine was 90s cartoons and him (not really an obsessed with him per se, just interested. Possessed sounds too much like Exorcist if you asked me) and Scott must have liked the Three Stooges. It could be Jean, but it's always the less likely person, and I could see Jean watching and laughing at slapstick humor, and Scott, I could see him trying to integrate it into a defense tactic.
These are the type of thoughts I had! What could I say? Hopefully not a lot because then they'd all think I was nuts, of course, the telepaths probably already think that. And if they didn't think that, then why the heck not?
I stopped my little mental debate/diagnoses and twisted my head toward the stairs when I heard my name. Darcy stood there, rubbing her eyes like she was three again asking to sleep in my room and waiting to hear a story about the bum angel Blyt.
About me now I guessed.
"Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"
She made a face.
"Aren't you?"
"I'm—on guard duty."
"For what? To protect the TV from thieving couch potatoes?" I stuck my tongue out at her and she giggled before joining me as I flipped on some 'kid appropriate' channel (Tom and Jerry, which was her favorite, but I would always be a Powerpuff Girl fan. What could be more entertaining than three little girls with funny heads who could kick behind?).
"Couldn't sleep?"
"What, this isn't a dream?"
"Want me to pinch you to prove it?"
I snorted (seemed to be a bad habit I picked up from Wolverine).
"Not unless you want me to show you what they've been teaching me here."
We sat in silence for a while, her laughing at the mouse's antics while I was comparing the evil tendencies of mice and birds (Jerry and Tweety—that bird was diabolical! The X-men would even lose to that devil incarnate!). and then the worse possible commercial came on. One that was laughing and joking about the JCPenny's One Day Sale with the dad asking 'Where's your mother?'.
I could almost count it down in my head when Darcy would leave, but I would have been counting a long time. The road that my baby sister took was a different one than I was ready for when she turned around and asked, "Do you ever think of him?"
I choked. Scott knew about my Dad in detail and he told me about his. There wasn't any conviction, no judgment when he nodded and didn't say anything. Well, nothing about my Dad in general just the sacrifices parents will make for their kids. Call my crazy (which wouldn't be too far from the truth), but I didn't think he was referring to my I didn't want to talk about something, or think about something, I started to notice that I thought or talked about random things.
"About who?" I pointed to the actor, "Him?" Darcy started to get a hopelessly lost look about her. "Never really looked at him, I mean he's like what? A hundred or something?"
"Keeerrrrreeee," Darcy pleaded. I knew what she wanted to talk about it, but she still didn't know the truth. If I had anything to say about it, she never would. "Please? Mom never says anything about him either."
Probably because it included me. I turned down the volume on the television as I sighed, then turning my attention to her.
"Okay then, what do you want to know?" I more or less snapped at her.
"Uh, I wanted to know if you ever thought about him?" She picked at the edges of the couch.
I could blame it on the late hour and my lack of sleep, but I'd just say I guessed I was being hateful, "Say his name, Darcy. It won't hurt me, and it won't bring him back."
She looked at me, her big eyes looking like they were about to blanket her in tears.
"D-dad. Do you ever think about Dad?"
My jaw tightened.
"What good does it do?" I questioned her, "Like I said, it won't bring him back. And wh-what good does it do us to think about him now?" I was more than touchy on this subject because of my conscience.
Her shoulders slumped. Oh man!
"I guess you're right." Darcy's voice was super soft and I was fortunate to make out as much of what she said as I did. How did I ever eat with my foot lodged so deep in my mouth?
"I-I'll just go back to bed I guess. Sorry for bothering you."
Okay, let me guess, I was the only one who would let her walk away right?
Nope, even I couldn't let her go like that; of course, I realized that after she was at the base of the staircase. I called her name and she (head still pointed down) turned back to me. After saying twice for her to come back, she did and sat down, her blanket pulled tightly around her body.
This was the part I knew how to play by heart. I did it when I lied about my dad, when they told us two days later that his truck was found abandoned. I did it when my sister and mother cried on my shoulders and I couldn't cry with them. I had to be the strong one. I was never given the opportunity to cry. I couldn't before the news, it would raise too many questions, and I couldn't after because then who would the rest of my family looked to? I had to be the strong one and I thought when I came to New York I wouldn't have to be that anymore.
My mistake.
"I didn't mean to get mean about it, I just-haven't talked about Dad in a really long time." Okay, so I lied, but technically a month and a half might be a really long time to someone. "But, yeah, I do think about him from time to time."
"Me, too." I wasn't about to say anything else, "I sometimes wonder if he would have been—proud of us."I stiffened.
"I'm sure he would have been. Dad was always proud of us, Darc." She just kept staring at the floor. It was more annoying than anything. "Why, have you done something that you think he wouldn't like?"
She was crying, her blonde hair had hid it while she had her head down, now Darcy's eyes were overflowing with tears. For the first time in a long time, my heart tightened in my chest and I felt helpless. Just like the night I held my dad trembling, screaming, and shaking my head in denial.
"Not about me, Kerry."
That small tug on my heart turned into a rodeo bull plunging his horns into the soft organ. She doubted whether or not dad would be proud of me? If he would have love me?
"What does that mean, Darcy?" I asked, my voice trying to crack.
"You're a mutant, Kerry. What would Daddy have to say about that?" I quickly looked to the steps, I could have sworn I heard one creak, but then again, why would Scott or Jean not know their stairs well enough to know that the third from the top squeaked like a stuck rat?
Temporarily distracted by the thought of being spied on, I dreamed up some type of reply in my brain that was working overtime trying to formulate something that wouldn't turn me into a Mr. Hyde. Or a Ms. Hyde, oh, whatever!
"Are you ashamed of me?"
She shook her head from side to side violently.
"Then why would he be?"
She opened up her mouth, but then snapped it shut.
"I guess, I just thought maybe you didn't think so." Liar. "Be-because mom doesn't-I don't think she likes you being a mutant."
That was an understatement!
"So, I guess that's why you have new parents now, because you can make them proud." I nervously fiddled with a loose feather on my wing. "They really are nice." Oh, would you look at that? My feather fell off. "Why don't you call them Mom and Da-"
"Well!" I cut in, jumping to my feet, "Want to see what kind of stuff they have in this place to munch on?"
I didn't even want to think about calling Jean and Scott anything but Jean and Scott. Sure I had let it slip once with Scott, but that was because I was half out of it (the other half was dead and that included my brain).
Darcy let it go like a clever girl, and followed me into the kitchen. The first couple of cabinets had enough health food to start a business. We were disheartened but determined at the same time. And then, after I got the bright idea of moving the health food aside, "Jackpot!"
Chocolate cake mixes, cookies (some which I recognized as mine), candy bars, and chocolate pop-tarts-this was probably all the contraband discovered at the mansion by various people. And the Cookie Nazi took them back to his own lair and ate them? What a skunk! And why wasn't Jean like five hundred pounds?
"This is sort of like the last time I came!" Darcy ever optimistic personality came through again, leaving our previous conversation to the silence in the living room.
"Yeah, I'll probably get another stomach ache from all this."
"So that's why you were so sick."
Darcy yelped and my shoulders tensed up so much I thought they might get stuck in my ears. Wouldn't that be a weird sight?
"Uh, Mr. Summers, did we wake you up?" Darcy really sounded like a mouse with as high as her voice went.
Scott was leaned against the side of the kitchen doorway, one eyebrow raised over the goggles he wore (late night swim?) and his arms crossed. I would have been worried but he had this,I dunno, sassy smile on his face.
"What are you two doing up so late?"
Darcy looked like a startled goldfish, and I guessed it was big sister to the rescue.
"We just-couldn't sleep and so we were going to get rid of all this unhealthy and distracting junk food?" For some reason that sounded so much better in my head then out in the open.
"Sure. And the next thing you'll be telling me is that your Grandmother is going to take a vow of celibacy." It was my turn to do that fish thing. Starched Shorts Scott Summers made a joke?
"Not until Warren takes a vow of poverty," came a fourth (and to my knowledge the last person in the house) voice. "Do you have to have an invitation to this party or are crashers allowed?" Jean asked, and Darcy started to do her shy smile.
"What's the party doing up is what I want to know."
"We were hungry?"
"And you thought that chocolate could help you sleep?"
Thinking quickly, and never clearly, I put on my best clueless look.
"Chocolate?" I asked innocently, "What chocolate? Darcy and I were just looking for the-" I listed the first two products I saw, "Dried garlic chips and soy paste?" Oh yuck!
Apparently it was a shared reaction because even Scott made a disgusted face at the mentioning of this lovely (blah!) delicacy. Jean muttered something about not knocking it until you try it but I just kept my fake smile on.
"If it's between you two being sick or being hyper, by all means be hyper," Scott smiled; I guessed this late at night (early in the morning?) he wasn't one to put up much of a fight.
Darcy looked at me, and grinned.
"You heard the man, big sister, by all means!"
And then we ate the healthy stuff.
Riiiiiiight.
The chocolate was hunted, collected, and conquered (we ate it, who knew, it could have been evil chocolate!)! Yes, I would think of any excuse to have the sweet stuff!
It started on Sunday morning.
At the Summers' house I should have known that hoping Sunday mornings didn't exist to these people was asking for too much. With my wing earning the stamp of approval and my alarm clock smashed, I woke up when I felt a nice, refreshing breeze.
Clue number one Kookie decided to ignore.
When I opened my eyes, I noticed there was a lot of blue in the room. By the time my brain said 'ut-oh' and 'You're not in bed anymore, Toto' my eyes widened further as I attempted to look around me.
Ever watch those cartoons where Bugs Bunny warns the other character to not look down, doc?
Yeah, well, guess what stupid did.
I looked down, and trust me; down was a long way down there. I screamed alerting Jean to release her telekinetic hold on me as I started to fall. If the rest of the people weren't up when I was floating above the pool then my screaming bloody murder and crash landing on the roof, gripping desperately the shingles, and trying to get my heart to stop running around screaming in my rib cage should have done the job.
What was with these people? First the ice pillar, then the drop-flight technique, and then being woke up floating? They had cable, they had 500 or so channels and so they didn't need torture to entertain them!
"What's the matter, Kookie?" Came a familiar and, right then, an even more annoying voice. I glared over my shoulder, but my big black feathered wing was in my way. Oh brother, but apparently I wasn't the only one rudely woken up. I heard D-M's high pitched scream and then the boys cussing (one of them) and the other just screaming out things.
"Get me down from here!" I screamed, and that's when I heard the Professor in my head.
/This is the week we judge how far you all have come. The X-men are not here to assist you, but to test you./
He was pinning up a bunch of amateurs against the pros? What was wrong with these people!?
The next thing I knew was Mr. Warren landing beside me with a smirk that just dripped with smug superiority.
"Welcome to Hell Week," he clipped out and then flew off.
It's the spandex. It had to be the spandex.
