Lucky Me
Chapter 061
"Is something wrong, Kookie?" Mr. Drake asked Monday.
It was the last class period of the day and I still hadn't gotten over the whole 'you one crazy girl, need doctor' assessment from Mr. and Mrs. Summers. I looked at Bobby-Jerk over my shoulder; my eyes were narrowed (I think I got them stuck that way). I was steaming over this whole situation.
"Why would you say that?" Okay, I knew Drake didn't do anything wrong, but I still bit his head off.
"Because of the tone of voice, not to mention that's the fifth pencil you've sharpened down to a nub." I looked down at my pencil and sure enough, it was nub-a-fied. I sat back down by him where my homework was waiting.
After a few minutes, I huffed. "Are we going to do anything?"
Mr. Drake's eyebrows shot up.
"You actually want to do homework? Are you sick? Been possessed by a dark entity?" Okay, now it was my turn to look surprised, "Hey, I've seen it happen." Oh, right. It's an X-Men thing. Weird junk happened daily and they all were considered normal. One person sends me a dead bird and suddenly I was the one who needed a psychiatrist.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Like you ever do."
We started the whole mess about house interest and mortgages and blah blah blah.
"For not being a blood Summers, you sure act like one," Bobby-Jerk muttered under his breath when I started to curse numbers and math in general to the darkest corner of the boys' locker room.
"What's that suppose to mean?" I barked at him, this caught the guy by surprise (probably the fact that I jumped to my feet and knocked over my chair was what really surprised him).
"Whoa! Didn't mean to put Ex-lax in your cookies, Kookie!" He held up his hands in surrender.
I continued to stand, "I am nothing like those people! Do I try to tell everyone how to run their lives? No! And I don't tell those on my team who need mental help that I made an appointment for them at the local shrink!"
Oh man! I didn't want anyone finding out! But, of course, I blew it and now Mr. Drake knew. Perfect.
Argh!
"You're going to a psychiatrist?"
"If you say 'it's about time' you are so getting hit upside the head," I warned.
"I wouldn't say that, Kerry, I don't think there's anything wrong with you." I stared at him in disbelief, then to cover up what he said for whatever reasons, "Well, except your amazing ability to be constantly beaten by numbers a fraction of your size."
He was such a math dork.
After school on Tuesday I was happily dragging Chris to the garage.
"Why do I have to do this?" He groaned as the rest of the crew trailed behind us. "Can't you chicks just do this and leave me outta of it?"
"Nope," I chirped and smiled back at him, "You wanted me to go to prom with you, therefore: you must do the right thing and suffer while I try on every dress ever made within the last fifty years."
It was a perk, I hated trying on clothes (dresses just were not me) but making Chris, Bobby-Jerk, (the 'chaperone') and Adam sit through this unique type of female torture was going to be fun.
Not to mention, I had stolen something from a certain wallet. Bobby-Jerk and Mr. Warren taught me that if you pay big bucks, no one checks your ID.
And for this afternoon I was going to be Mrs. Jean Grey-Summers.
Oh, she would feel the revenge of a girl done wrong (or gone psycho—pick one).
Before anyone got any wise ideas, Bobby-Jerk had to be a chaperone to New York City because Professor wanted a senior with us just in case we ran into trouble (not to mention Bobby-Jerk had the intellect of a kid like the rest of us at times). Oh yeah, like we had to go looking for trouble. Trouble usually found us (I think the X-Men actually had an ad in the paper for it to come). Adam was coming to endure the same thing Chris was going to have to put up with but Adam was there for D-M.
As we piled into the car, Adrian came running at us full speed from the house, Chris asked if Bobby-Jerk could just peel out and leave the psycho boy in the dust. Bobby-Jerk sighed and said he couldn't, he'd made a New Year's resolution not to 'peel out' at least not while in Mr. Summers' car (I took the keys, Mr. Summers didn't actually know).
"You have got to let me come with you! They're making me sit in on the training sessions with her!" This boy had embraced fear and her name was Julie. "Come on, please? She's threatening to cut me open and pull my tongue through my neck!"
"Colombian necktie, girl's got taste." I looked back at D-M who just shrugged and gave that smile (the really creepy one), "Read about it once."
Bobby-Jerk exchanged glances with me as I mouthed, 'creepy'.
"And why should we have mercy on you, Spineless?" Chris, again in his bad mood, snapped. "Running away seems to be in your blood."
Adrian didn't make a happy face, and then did what I already knew he would do-ignore Chris.
"Come on, please? Xavier is going to use me as the guinea pig."
Adam snorted, but instead of doing anything else, I moved into the middle of the front seat since the back seat was full.
"Get in then."
He smiled gratefully and jumped in the car.
I felt like a sandwich because my wings were squashed between two guys (and the rest of me) and then I had Adam's knees in my back because his legs were so long. This was going to be such a fun trip.
"So is everyone in this car going to Prom?"
"Not me," Adrian grumbled, staring out the window.
"Why not?" Adam innocently asked, D-M snorted and said that her very good friend Nikki-Jo dumped his behind because K'yo asked her out.
"Didn't that happen to you to, 'Mr. Drake'?" Chris probed. Bobby-Jerk grunted in response.
I had to say it again, this was going to be such a fun trip.
"It looks like the one you just tried on! What's the freakin' difference??" Chris was ready to throw a chair at me as I stuck my tongue out at him and told him the other one's color was rose and the dress I had on was clearly dustyrose. Bobby-Jerk laughed, Adrian started to beat his fist against his forehead and Adam smiled.
Smart boy.
In reality I already had a dress. I was just going to wear the same one Mr. Warren bought me for that big shindig thing I went to with him. However, it didn't mean I wasn't going to enjoy irritating the guys.
"What do you think?" D-M asked, spinning around in a dark red dress. It was defiantly more of the 'adult' than the 'teenager' type (meaning seductive, not cute). "I have to wear it for two different things."
"Like what?" I pulled off the 'dusty rose' (which was actually the same dress as the 'rose' I just made up the difference to annoy my future 'date').
"I have the prom thing and then Dr. Hank invited me and Adam to a medical banquet of some sort." She gave me the odd smile. "I think this one will do. They'll be all sorts of people there, doctors, professors, and, of course, the media."
"R-right."
She was really creeping me out.
I continued to try on the same five or six dresses to mess with guys' head but then decided I would break the dress news to them by walking out with nothing (no dress, not nothing on). D-M paid with a certain credit card that I took and Chris was ready to drown me in the food court fountain when I told him I had already gotten a dress earlier.
"So you did this for what? Revenge?" Bobby-Jerk guessed as we sat in the food court eating junk food to our hearts' content.
"Now you're getting it!" I smirked and he rolled his eyes. Adrian didn't say anything and Adam was off in space somewhere (probably doing a math formula for fun in his head).
Crossing my arms, I added to my defiant look by glaring at the car as if I was going to blow it away with my Kookie-Vision.
"Kerry, you're being difficult." Mrs. Summers announced.
I didn't move.
"Get into the car," Mr. Summers ordered. "Do I have to literally twist your arm?"
Normally I would be freaked out when he got into that 'thou-art-ticking-me-off-royally' voice. They couldn't really twist my arm, or use their powers—we were in front of my school after all. They came to check me out around lunch to make it to my appointment with the professional psycho.
/Do I have to start with threats?/ Mrs. Summers asked in my head, which was weird because I thought my blood stopped her from doing that, but I guess I wasn't as on edge as I thought.
"Like what, Grey?" I was being a brat. My logic? If they were going to send me to a head doctor, I had better act the part.
"Early morning monitor duty for a month, extra training sessions with Miss Frost when she comes, and you'll be the one to aid Julie in her training," Mr. Summers threatened. It definitely got my attention, but didn't get me to move. "And you'll never get your license."
Dang it!
Once at the doctor's office I had my arms tightly crossed, my wings were sotight against my back that I thought I'd make them go back where they came from (they were under an image inducer) and my face was set so hard a gargoyle looked cuddly in comparison.
Oh, yeah, it was Wednesday.
And, yeah, I was in the freaking psychiatrist's office!
Argh! This was not fair and after I left Sunday dinner I did my best to completely avoid Mr. and Mrs. Summrers. When I happened to run into them, I didn't talk to them, even when they had the nerve to talk to me. I just gave them the nastiest look imaginable and wanted to throw something at their heads.
My team was confused as to why I was acting strange, but did they ask?
No way. I trained them to fear the almighty Kookie. It took a year or so, but they knew fear now!
Back to where I was, which was in the office where I was going to find out what was wrong with me (although nothing was). I'd have gone in here kicking, screaming, and cussing-to make it look like I actually belonged in here if it wasn't for the whole vehicular freedom threat. Although knowing that the fit pitching would have completely embarrassed those who brought me to this place was a hard temptation to turn down.
I didn't belong here. So my life was confusing, big deal. Did that mean that I had to be committed to a different funny farm besides the X-mansion?
So, there I sat like stone on her couch as this 'Dr. Frese' smiled at me, tipping her head from one side to another (in an attempt to look like a trustworthy dog). If I couldn't get out of actually going to the shrink's, then I'd do the next best thing (no, that was not to endanger my life or Mr. and Mrs. Summers) but to sit as unhappily as I could and not talk.
Unless this lady was a mind reader, she wouldn't be able to say anything about or to me.
"So your name is Kookie?" Okay, so she could say something to me.
And, duh, my name was Kookie; it's on her folder wasn't it? I hoped they didn't send me to an illiterate doctor! How trust worthy was the medical world?
And why did they call what doctors did practice? Couldn't they get it right? I didn't want them to "practice" on me; I wanted them to get it right! Not that there was anything wrong with my mental health thankyouverymuch!
"Scott and Jean are your adoptive parents, correct?"
I rolled my eyes. Whoops, I promised myself no language of any kind (even body) that might be used against me and have me declared incompetent in court. Instead, she just smiled and wrote something down (probably a prescription).
"I see you're from Washington and you came to New York about a year ago." Thanks for the brief recap of my life, gee, I felt so much better. "You are also a mutant?"
Red flag!
Dr. Frese only smiled at me as my eyes became big and my mouth slackened for a second before I caught myself and resumed my previous cold status.
She put the clipboard down, flipped her red hair (no wonder Mrs. Summers wanted me to see her, they shared hair color) and smiled at me (again). I wondered if she was related to Barbie?
"Don't be so amazed, Kookie. I am a trusted friend of the headmaster of your school." Uh-huh, little did she know that the 'headmaster' was also not on my nice list. He supported this idea. "Is that were your problems started, when you discovered you were a mutant?"
I was pleading the fifth.
"I'm sensing some aggression on your part, Kookie."
And I was sensing some stupidity on her part! As if my 'aggression' wasn't obvious! But instead of saying anything else that was obvious, she just continued to stare at me.
I glared out the window.
"Kookie, I really want to help you, but you have to trust me." My eyes rolled again and I sighed deeply. "I want to be your friend."
I shifted my bored look over to her face. Yeah, right, she wanted to be friends with Professor's checkbook. Or someone's checkbook, I wasn't sure who was paying for this endeavor.
Dr. Frese's smile was dwindling after a few more minutes of silence.
"Kookie, how can we get to know each other if you don't talk to me?"
I didn't want to get to know her, and I didn't want her to know me. This was like rent-a-friend or something. For an hour the shrink was your friend, then after that they said 'make an appointment'.
"Are your parents in the waiting room? Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable opening up if you had one or both of them present." More comfortable? Right. More comfortable to blame them for most everything that has happened.
Dr. Frese got up and called for Mrs. Summers to come into the room with me. Mrs. Summers followed the request, acting all nice and sweet, but I was fuming. They talked a bit and then it became official gossip when Mrs. Summers sat down on the couch next to me.
A couch with no arm rests. I was so tempted to push her off…but then again they'd probably sedate me and throw me in a nice white room with padded walls. They might do that after a while anyway. Perhaps it would be cheaper rent?
No more early morning training sessions with Wolverine!
"Tell me Jean, why did you want Kookie to start seeing me?" Oh this was going to be rich.
Mrs. Summers wasn't surprised at all by this question.
"I really think it would help her with her—unique problems." Then Dr. Frese instructed Mrs. Summers not to tell her but to tell that to me. To tell me why she wanted me here. Like a good little patient type person, she turned in my direction and waited until I stared her in the eye. "Kookie, I know you don't want to be here, but I—we, Scott and I, think this would help you come to terms with your issues."
"What type of issues do you think your daughter is having?"
Ack! Acid! 'Your daughter' never sounded so bad.
Mrs. Summers cleared her throat and started, "For one, Kookie isn't very open."
Not for lack of trying from Sabertooth.
"All her friends want to help, but she doesn't tell us when something is wrong. From what I see, she buries and keeps whatever it is locked away. I'd like to help her with her problems and try my best to give her what advice I can."
Whatever!
Every time that I have a problem someone else tried to solve it for me. I didn't want that! I just wanted to be able to rant and get it off my chest without any one trying to 'fix it' or 'make me feel better'!
"How do you feel about that, Kookie?"
At least it wasn't that 'do you want to talk about it' line. But after a few minutes of silence (wasn't this hour over yet?) Dr. Frese asked if Mrs. Summers could bring Mr. Summers in and return to the waiting room.
Mr. Summers was instructed to do the same thing that his wife did, starting with why I had to be here.
"I think-you just need someone to talk to." That was it. No more, no less. Dr. Frese didn't really like that answer because she prodded with an 'and?' and Mr. Summers said that was all.
"Hasn't she confided in anyone about anything in her past or her present?"
I paled. My eyes flew to Scott, he couldn't tell her about my dad! He couldn't! That's the only thing 'personal' I'd ever told him! With those dumb glasses I couldn't see if he even gave me a side-glance!
He couldn't tell her! I felt tears prick, oh man! I couldn't wuss out now!
"Is there something wrong, Kookie? You seem upset."
I snapped, so much for promises to myself, "Whatever I confide in people is none of your business."
"You're upset, good, now we are getting somewhere." Crap. Man, I didn't want her to get all psychobabble on me. "Mr. Summers, you can go sit in the waiting room again, Kookie will be out shortly."
Peachy. Just what I wanted to happen. Me and her alone again. I would continue to call him Mr. Summers in my mind, but he didn't say anything about my dad, so Scott was okay now. At least for the remainder of the afternoon.
"That was dirty," I said in a low tone as I glared at her.
She gave me a self-fulfilled smile (the kind I couldn't stand).
"Was there something you were afraid your Dad knew?" My heart dropped. "Do you even trust your parents?" Which set? The dead and crazy set or the mutant body builder set? "I would like to explore this at a later date, Kookie."
Did that mean I had to come back?
It was finally Friday! Thursday I spent trying not to hurt myself every time the word 'open' or 'talk' was spoken. But now- now I had a rather embarrassing thing I'd forgotten about. I remembered the first dance, and although I technically could not dance to save my life, it would still be nice to fakeit if I had to… without my 'unique' problem interfering.
But my problem was unique, and I had to find another unique person to help me with my situation.
I hunted around the mansion for a certain blue guy who could help me, I hoped. When I did find him, he was laughing it up with Mr. Jean-Paul about some goofy business thing (Mr. Warren was laughing; I didn't think Mr. Jean-Paul was really that thrilled).
"Uh, Mr. Warren?" This was so embarrassing.
Both men turned toward me.
"What can I do for you, Kookie?"
I started to interlace my fingers and pull them apart (nervous action), "I-uh, sort of have this-uhm, problem that I noticed."
Completely blank looks.
Great, now I was going to actually have to explain! Why couldn't Mr. Warren have telepathy? Every other mutant did!
Sighing I really wished Mr. Jean-Paul would leave.
"It's something—personally odd." My terminology needed work - this was painfully evident.
It was his turn to be weirded out, "Maybe I'm not the one you should talk to then, maybe one of the women-"
"It's not like that!" Why did every guy automatically jump to the conclusion it has something to do with 'female talk' when the word 'personal' was used in a conversation? "It's just-unique to-me and you."
Light suddenly dawned on him. "Oh, the wings. What about them?"
I fidgeted again; this was embarrassing because it was like asking your mom for your first training bra or something. "I was told there's a-harness you use…."
My face turned the color of a ketchup bottle, and he laughed.
"So what's the big deal about a gym that's stuffed with students, balloons, and a DJ?" Chris muttered after we'd been at the 'prom' for about an hour. We were seated in the middle of the valley of tables' right next to the dance floor (D-M's choice, not ours).
"The guys are actually wearing deodorant?" I offered. He snorted.
I was in the dress Mr. Warren bought for me and my wings were stuffed into a harness that he also gave me. It was amazing that my wings were flexible enough that I only looked like a hunchback (without the image inducer) and I hadn't knocked anybody with my wings. It was a nice feeling to feel slightly normal again.
But back to the dress, Scott about had a heart attack and started to point up the stairs as if he was going to tell me to change, but Mrs. Summers actually came to the rescue. She said I looked nice and she loved the color. It matched my eyes.
Well of course it did! It was the Dress Lady's power!
But I wasn't going to tell them that (about the lady being a mutant) or they might try to recruit her.
All their uniforms could match their eyes, how special would that be?
I digress. I never knew what it meant when someone said they 'drank in the sight of so-and-so' but I learned that night. He, I think, did that. He couldn't even say anything as I just stood on the steps smiling for the pictures with Chris before we left (not my idea, this was D-M's wish to have a billion pictures of us all together and looking happy).
My plan was still in full motion because I was probably going to make him regret ever treating me like taffy.
"Why aren't you two out there?" D-M asked, poking me in the arm. "You need to dance at a Prom." She crossed her arms and tried to glare at me. I deadpanned her with a bored expression. "Go on, Chris. They've already read the senior prophecy, you have to dance! It has like, what, an hour left?"
"With her?" He said, nodding toward me. "She'd crush my feet, again."
"That was your fault, you jerk-face." I reminded (he was talking about our stomping competition at the 'Welcome Back; dance oh so long ago). "Although I did win."
"Right. Sure you did."
"That sounds like a challenge."
"Maybe it is, I bet you haven't improved any since then."
D-M was long gone by then.
"Fine, then get your butt out of that chair and I'll show you I can dance, Sparky."
"Fine then, just remember I never asked for this."
We got out on the floor just as they put on a slow song; there was, maybe, a hair of space between the couples (there was like a foot between me and Chris). It felt weird to actually be allowing him to have his hands on my hips; it was freaky. Butterflies were having a rave in my stomach as Chris, for some reason, pulled me closer to him.
And suddenly I couldn't get his voice out of my head when he (through sheer, massive amounts of blood loss) said he liked me (probably thought I was Daisy or someone else). I felt a slightly familiar feeling that I couldn't really place, but before I could break it down and analyze it, my mouth started to get me in trouble again.
"It's hard to believe that a short while ago we were almost—well, dead." So I had this natural block against intelligent conversational topics.
He rolled his eyes but with a, dare I believe, softly amused smile. "Yeah."
I shot one eyebrow up."You were more talkative, and nicer when you didn't know what you were saying."
"Really?" Oh boy, "What did I say? And don't lie; you're pathetic at it-among other things."
Laughing nervously to try and derail the upcoming fight I was predicting the truth would bring about. "Nothing of importance."
"Come on, what could be so bad? Did I confess undying love for Bobby or something?" Chris was in a good mood. Why did I have to bring up this subject? Then my sight blurred, there seemed to be a haze coating my vision. I guessed it was the bright lights.
"Actually, it wasn't Bobby and it wasn't 'love'." I smiled at him, the haze thickened to a foggy consistency but I wasn't spazing out and claiming death. Something was majorly wrong and I was taking it as smoothly as a cat on silk sheets. "And I know you don't mean all those nasty things you say to me."
He went rigid.
When his eyes met mine and for one second the little voice in my head was screaming something wasn't right. Too bad that little voice had a heart attack and died because it didn't say anything else after what happened, happened.
Chris' eyes became slightly tired looking and then with plenty of time to move away instead of toward he ki-I ki-we kissed.
No, I didn't say anything wrong, we actually did.
His lips moved against mine and my eyes slipped shut. I tilted my head to a marginally different angle to allow him better access. What was even worsewas I didn't pull back the second my mind caught up with my mouth.
Suddenly, though, there was an image of another smiling face, of someone I really cared for-him.
My heart snapped my mind in half and commanded me to step back, which I did, wide eyed and slightly dazed (the song was now over so moving quickly off the dance floor was no problem). Chris didn't offer any apology or explanation and neither of us looked at the other. My face was turned down and I felt tears prick my eyes. I just pulled the same crap that he might have with his would have been girlfriend.
But it had felt good while doing it, even though I knew it was wrong. Screwed up wrong. Teen drama movie wrong!
"What the hell are you doing here?" My attention left my feet to see an 'I-rule' grin on Julie's facethat had her hands behind her head, feet crossed at the heels on the table, and leaning only so only the back two legs of the chair were on the floor. Where the heck did she come from?
"I was bored with the stuffed shirts, so I decided to come to the party see if there was anything worth seeing." She kicked her feet off the table so she could cross her arms and look at us over her sunglasses. "Apparently I should have brought my camera." Julie smirked and captured me in her mischievous glinting eyes, "Of course, you know I couldn't get here by myself, Jealous 'Jack' brought me." I paled, "I don't think I'll be so wretchedly bored anymore."
