Lucky Me
Chapter 96
I was beyond livid. Lava was ready to flow from my eyes, ears, and fingertips. Bobby stood there, completely stupefied by the information. I knew, then, that he hadn't known. I wheeled myself straight to the Professor's office. My brain churning out so many black rain clouds I was giving Storm a run for her money. I was ready to kill.
Pushing the doors open, the Professor looked up from whatever he had been reading, and locked his eyes on me, studying me with a slight frown.
I clamped my teeth together.
"Kookie, what may I do for you?"
"A mutant," I spat out, moving myself fully into the room. I only stopped to slam the door shut.
"Yes?" he seemed to be slightly amused by my outburst.
"Heather is a mutant."
His shoulders tensed before he sat up straighter and set his face into a blank expression.
"Is there any proof of your accusation?"
"I read it in your files. You never went to Acola for me. You went because of my mo—Heather!" I screeched the last word. My heart pounded like an angry bull elephant as my brain felt like it was smashing itself against my skull. "You never told me."
"Perhaps, I could accurately predict your reaction to such news." Professor gave me an even look while I cussed at him with a nastier look. "If I had told you before, you would have been upset -"
"Like I'm not now? You could have told me at any time and I at least would have that to deal with alone. Now, now, I have to deal with this, the fact you kept it from me, my sister hating me, Heather trying to kill me, succeeding and waking up without my wings! You," I sucked in a short breath through clenched teeth before, continuing in a low whisper, "are in the wrong, Professor."
He was silent for a tick or two.
"Do you think confronting me about this personally disturbing news is in any way convincing me to be implicit with you in the future?" He was trying to get me calmed down. However, talking to me like a toddler who just spilt grape juice on the white rug was not doing an overly effective job.
"It's a trust thing." I took a deep breath. Trying to block out the hurt I felt from him hiding this. Why didn't they tell me? "Who else knew?"
"That is irrelevant."
I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair so tightly that they moaned under my strength.
"It's relevant to me." I wanted to know who knew. All the people who I thought were trustworthy—
"No one else, but me knows the complete truth. It wasn't information I wished to spread." Professor said calmly, his eyebrows lowering slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
"How considerate."
"Your mother knew she was a mutant. Was fully aware of the fact by the time I contacted her. When I requested that she come to New York for a brief period, so that we could help her learn her abilities, she refused. Heather insisted that she was needed where she was and did not wish to leave."
I read all that in the file. Makes Heather almost sound likable. But after my wings, after the attack, it would take a lifetime to get over her betrayal.
"What was her power?"
At this, he hesitated, his eyes darting off to the side, as if debating with himself before he pierced me through with his stare again.
"From what little I was able to gather from her, she has the ability of precognition. She was probably fully aware she was going to attack you before you ever set foot into the house."
Wha—
I felt like my stomach had been punched, pulled out, and shoved down my throat.
"You knew I left."
It was a statement, not a question. I remembered the cameras monitor the front gate twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It was something I didn't think of the night I slipped out, I could have flown out but landing without attracting attention was something I wished to avoid.
"Yes." He followed up his answer by a near distasteful sigh. "But I cannot be held culpable for what followed your departure. Do not look at me like that, you know very well that is what you were formulating."
"It's not right." I spoke out coldly. "It's not fair."
"When did anyone say life was going to be fair?" Professor fired back at me.
Sometimes I knew he had a heart full of love and compassion and other warm and fuzzy feelings that makes a person retch when they read about it, but sometimes I got to see the nasty streak. This was the nasty streak and getting nastier.
"I thought that's what you were trying to do here. Make life fair. How can you be such a hypocrite? Fight to take the blindfolds off of people's eyes while trying to keep it on others? The very people you are, ha, 'teaching'—no, training?"
For the first time since I could remember, the Professor got mad.
His dream, one has to understand like I didn't then, got slammed on by a lot from bad guys and everyone who has an ounce of sense in them.
"If you want to die, Kookie, then by all means do so. You are living, but you are not alive, much like your sister told me you would be. You want to be better than your mother? You want to be the winner in all of this? Then stop acting like you haven't been given a second chance. Let you mother win, live in your anger and misery. Then I won't be the one to blame for any 'blindfold' you wear."
I got so, so mad, but couldn't do anything about it. He pegged me and I couldn't say anything back because it hurt to hear him say that. I guess I was accustomed to the idea that he was the one to beat up when things didn't go right. You know, the higher up where you could pass the buck?
My lips molded together in a thin line and were white from the pressure. I jerkily turned myself around and rolled myself out of his office and down to the weight room because that's where I'd figure Jack would be.
That's where I finally broke down (again).
I was more upset that the Professor words seemed to be right. Heather was going to win.
That's when I started to fight for life again.
But it was there I also realized I couldn't stay around the grounds of the mansion. I had to get away, even it was for a little while, I had to get away.
"Are you sure you aren't doing this because you're mad at me for some unexplained reason?" Jack asked for the millionth time and I had to bite down a growl. I told him, again, that this wasn't his fault. The fault came from almost two years of being put through heck and back. He had been pouty and then, finally, helped me get some things ready.
Under my own request, I asked for crutches instead of a wheelchair. Originally, they had given me the crutches but I wouldn't use them and thus stay stationary until someone came to drag or carry me to wherever it was I was apparently needed.
At first I had considered running to Alexis' house or even Arty's new place but I knew better. If I went to Alexis' house, she'd ask a million questions and also as Adam's girlfriend (shocked the heck out of me) he was always over there. Arty was healing or healed but Darcy was going to be there. I couldn't face her, not until I had my brain intact, my legs working, and my pride swallowed down enough to apologize for being so evil. So, not in this lifetime apparently.
I had finally come to the out-on-a-limb conclusion to use a phone number I never dialed before, Diana's. I had met her only briefly over that boring luncheon with Mr. Warren and Frosty, the White Witch of Stilettos. I nearly hung on the third time a man answered the phone saying 'St. Loy's residence' but thought better of it. I mean, surely the rich have caller ID and he'd probably cuss me out if I hung up again.
Though I felt like an awkward, geeky girl asking the most popular cheerleader to help with my hair or something, Diana seemed enthralled that I remembered her. Me remember her! I was surprised she hadn't gone 'who?' when I said my name.
Scott finally agreed after I looked as pathetic as I could (didn't take much effort) to drive, but Mr. St. Loy insisted that their driver could pick me up. Well, at least that's what Diana and his secretary said. I was guessing this was a new secretary, probably easily manipulated by anyone who had the last name St. Loy. The hardest part (besides packing and promising to keep up on my homework) was keeping where I was going a semi-secret.
It just wouldn't be right to have Emma, Mr. Warren, and Mr. Jean-Paul all show up one night to 'visit'.
When the car pulled up, I awkwardly put my stuff out for the driver to take. It wasn't going to be long, just a week but thanks the Jean's 'help' I was packed for several months (or so the two hefty suitcases seemed to imply).
Nervously, I looked back at the house and my heart, soggy from emotion, broke a little bit more to see Jack standing in the window. It probably killed him to be on the outside looking in, not really able to help me and not really knowing what to do to help.
"Are you ready, miss?" The chauffeur questioned, and I nodded. As I was about to enter into the car, I glanced once more at the window and quickly (feeling silly the whole while) gave a wave and offered a small smile. I didn't see his reaction; I just hoped it was positive.
"Hi!" Diana basically tried to choke the life out of me. "I'm so glad you decided to come! I've been stuck here with these—crickets and boys. "
Whoever one of the 'boys' were she was referring too, stood behind her and snorted at the insult.
"Nice way to make introductions."
Diana's blonde hair had grown significantly over a few months. The last time I'd seen her it was short and very Q-tip like close to her head. Now, it hung down to her shoulders. I had to beat back an image of her applying 'miracle grow' to her scalp.
The 'boy' looked me up and down and I tapered my eyes. I had been 'examined' by enough people both physically and visually over the last few days that I felt like decking anyone who did that again. My eyes narrowing was considered (in my book) as a fair warning before I dislocated their neck from their shoulders.
"Did you hurt yourself?" Diana questioned, finally realizing that I was wobbling on crutches.
"No. Someone else had that pleasure."
She smiled and ordered the chauffer-turned-bellhop to put my bags in some room. With that done, she showed me to the 'den' which looked more like a bar/living room/theater than anything else. I felt out of place here. Of course I would! If I had a brain cell in my head to dedicate to thinking things through I would have realized that I was poor compared to-to these billionaires.
Whoever the 'boy' was behind her, seemed to be reprimanding her as I sat on the couch waiting for the drink she went to fetch. I couldn't really tell what they were saying since it wasn't in English.
"Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine!" Diana huffed, giving me the drink and throwing herself into one of the chairs. "Kookie, this is a brother of mine."
I looked back up at the boy who was currently glaring at a Diana who had her tongue sticking out. "My name is Drace."
"Drace?" I asked, mostly to myself. Donovan, Diana and Drace? "Does everyone's name begin with 'D'?"
"Yes." The siblings sighed out together in annoyance. "But it is fun," Diana continued, perking up. "Especially when you purposefully mix up their phones and phone numbers and girlfriends' phone numbers—"
A fight started from there. Apparently Diana was either an airhead and a jokester or just an airhead. She jumped up and down trying to make her points and her brother just kept brushing her off as a 'baby girl'. I started to laugh when they got into a strangle hold.
All humor left when a new voice cut through the air.
"Drace."
He froze instantly.
"Diana."
She stopped her screaming and both of them pulled apart, staggering a bit, and stared back toward the doorway.
Craning my neck, I felt those pesky bugs come to life in my blood at the sight.
"Is this any way to act in front of a guest?"
Donovan. Donovan in all his gorgeous glory. They both muttered and mumbled out explanations and apologies but he didn't seem fazed at all.
"We were just playing around," Diana offered at last. "And he started it," she tacked on in a small voice.
"I do not want to see these antics again. Understood?"
I wasn't even doing anything, but the way his voice was smooth and cold at the same time made me want to obey. I guessed he was the oldest and was accustomed to putting up with their goofing off. They both let out a 'yes, sir' and then were told to go and prepare for dinner.
"But what about Kookie?" Diana whimpered like a five-year old. I sat stock still wishing she would just leave me out of this.
"I will—entertain her," he replied a tad less frigidly. My mind was apparently in the gutter as the world 'entertain' sent an image of him doing a strip tease on the coffee table to my mind. Oh perfect, I was blushing.
Drace and Diana headed for their rooms or personal beauticians or wherever rich people disappeared to as to get ready for dinner. Maybe I was over doing it, but I just couldn't see anyone of these people washing their hands with soap and water. It just seemed too plain.
"Miss Summers." Donovan, who had taken a seat me, didn't offer any smile. I felt self-conscious and briefly wondered how much I was out of it not to even notice he had moved across the room! Bobby and Chris would have rolled their eyes and said 'typical' or something. "I trust you are in good health?" He questioned, his eyes flickering over to the crutches propped against the couch arm.
"Y-yes, sir," I stuttered out, feeling that the respect with which Diana spoke to him was the best (and only) way to speak with him."A-and you?"
"Very well," he answer curtly. Another strained minute and if I hadn't imprinted his image in my brain like a baby bird did it's mother, I wouldn't have notice the one side of his mouth tick back ever so slightly. Was that his version of a smile? Like one of those private, tempting smiles? It was like he had a huge secret and wasn't going to share it with anyone but man he looked good. "There is no reason for you to be nervous, Miss Summers."
I had to work to swallow, my mouth suddenly very dry as I watched the way his suit jacket framed his shoulders oh-so nicely.
"Nervous?" Just because I couldn't breathe and my palms were sweating a guilty man on trail didn't mean I was nervous. A sad thought crossed my mind. My feathers would be ruffling if I still had them. I always thought it was amazing the way they responded to my emotions subconsciously.
He must have noticed my shoulders sagging and my eyes looking into my lap.
"Is there something distressing you?" I didn't answer right away, but he did. Oh man, did he ever. "The loss of your wings, perhaps?"
My head snapped up and I felt like my eyes were bugged out of my head
How did he know?!
Before I could ask, the dumb waiter/butler/whatever came and announced dinner was being served. He nodded and walked me (dumbfounded) to the dining room.
It took me until the last day of my stay (which was, to say the least, insane in a disturbingly interesting way) to be able to speak with Mr. St. Loy alone. We had all been in one of the many rooms and Drace said something to Diana in another language. From the way she started to jump up and down and then grab a pillow and whack him thoroughly with it, I assumed it wasn't something nice. Donovan merely stated their names and they 'high tailed' it out of the room.
A few minutes walked by and several bangs, along with a handful sighs and curious glances before I mustered up the courage to even get my voice to squeak.
"H-how did you know?"
He had been reading the newspaper before I asked, and the paper, like a curtain at the end of a play, slowly lowered until his silver eyes locked with mine.
I felt like a bug.
"To what are you referring?"
I was a bug doing a fish impression. Mouth open, mouth shut. Great exercise. Too bad my brain was so outta shape it ran out of energy to be used after the initial question. I could confront the Professor now (without sounding like my voice was breaking—at least too often) and Scott (then hid for a week) but when it came to this guy, he had me completely tongue tied.
"Uh, about my—my wings."
He probably thought I was the biggest dork in the world. Heck, I thought that. I couldn't believe I was so spineless!
During my mental berating, I looked away. Slowly, I turned to meet his eyes again and this time, he had that small, almost completely non-smile flatline smile.
"At our initial introduction," he started in that formal, cool tone of his, "The technology you were using to cloak your appearance must have, at some point, malfunctioned. I was able to see the reflection of your black wings in the window." At least he was honest. I remembered freaking out when I realized that my wings were painfully visible that day I tagged along with Mr. Warren.
My eyebrows crashed together as another thought came like a Kamikaze pilot to the forefront of my thoughts.
"How did you know they were missing?" The question was a ton softer than the previous one.
It was his turn to remain silent for a period of time. Nervousness began to eat away at me, why wasn't he answering?
"There are several facts which led me to the conclusion. You wear bandages underneath your shirt, the crutches are an aid to help you regain your equilibrium, and your general disposition is disquieted. Is my assumption an illogical one, Miss Summers?" My bug-fish-mix impression was going to be perfected by the end of this visit, which was tomorrow.
Nodding, I turned back to my hands, watching them shake in my lap. Great. He knew. What else did he know that perhaps his business buddies didn't know he knew?
"If you will permit me, I have an inquiry." I glanced up, his eyes were very serious (like they knew any other expression) and staring a hole in me. "What was the cause of their lose?"
For some reason, I didn't brush him off or try to escape. No, this time I just gushed out the entire story (leaving out the X-Men parts of course, I mean, how many times a day did they drill that into our heads not to utter a word about who we were?). It took almost an hour because I kept laughing bitterly, tear up, or just find it so hard to breathe and talk at the same time.
Donovan sat there, his paper neatly folded in his lap, his silver eyes never leaving me once. I was surprised that he didn't yawn or roll his eyes. He didn't just say 'okay, shut-up' or anything. He just kept looking at me, acknowledging my presence, and, I think, my words. At the end of the story telling, he relaxed into the seat, propping on hand under his chin with his pointer finger along the side of his face, and the elbow resting on the arm of the chair.
"I guess you probably really didn't want to hear all that," I finished lamely. I couldn't exactly end the story with 'and they lived happily ever after' now could I?
"If I did not wish to 'hear all that', I would not have questioned you on the matter," Donovan replied smoothly.
"But, I mean-that was the most roundabout way to give you a one sentence answer possible."
"Indeed." The man spoke as if he had fallen out of a Jane Austin novel. "It sometimes aids one's healing to have an objective ear to hear one's concerns." He tipped his head slightly to the side, white blonde hair shifting slightly. "When surrounded by those who care for you, it becomes very hard to distinguish the difference between your thoughts and theirs."
What could I say? He made sense. I closed my eyes, trying to let my frazzled and weakly operating mind soak in this new view.
"From the information you have provided, I would assume you have already come to the same conclusion whether you consciously realize you have or not." I blinked at him. It was like my brain was trying wipe the glasses (my eyes) to make sure that speck was really there. Me? Figure out something 'deep'? "If I may be as bold as to say, this is the reason for your being here now, I believe."
I blanched.
"To appease your guilt?"
For only being thirty (if even that) he sure sounded like a long-winded fortune cookie. "Guilty? About what?"
"You would, naturally, feel remorseful about causing your loved ones to empathize with you to the point they share your anger and melancholy." He considered me a moment longer. "Forgive me, Miss Summers, if I have said too much."
I blinked at him a few more times and then lowered my head.
Smart and beautiful. Not to mention rich. Why wasn't this guy married?
"No," I breathed. "It's okay. Maybe this is what I needed to hear." Shyly, I smiled up at him. "Do you have any more pearls of wisdom?" I could string them together and make a necklace or something.
The other side of his mouth twitched, I guess that was the closest thing I was ever going to see to a grin.
"Perhaps, but I will save them for later conversations."
_
The next day I was dropped off at the mansion door step. Diana pleaded with me to stay, but I knew I had to be with my 'family' for my birthday. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before because Donovan's words were echoing through my mind.
He was right, he was so right.
I had no idea what he was right about besides the need to escape and vent.
It was close to eleven on a Saturday night when I made it back (totally blaming Diana for that) so most everyone was either dating someone or absorbed in their televisions. The chauffeur offered to go and 'fetch' someone and that cooked up a mental image of the driver with his teeth sunk into someone's leg, dragging them out of the door while he was on all fours.
"No, that's okay." I replied, sighing as I reached across to pick up the crutches. But as my fingers grazed the wood, I felt myself being lifted up and out of the car. "What the-!" I twisted myself to get comfortable and to get a good look at the face of the person I was going to clobber (after they put me down, cause come on, why say 'no' to a free ride? Not to mention those crutches gave me rashes underneath my arms.).
"Hey, Kerry." Bobby? Where'd he come from! And he was going to take me into the mansion? Didn't he realize what lectures would wait if Jean saw us together? "If you could get the bags, Jeeves."
"Wh-what are you doing!" I blurted out as he took me into the mansion where, thank goodness, no one was around.
"Taking you to your room. I'm sure after all the excitement of the past few days you are probably just so worn out."
"Are you kidding!" I shot back. "They had, like a million servants!"
He gave me a look. One which shut me up.
Fine, let him be all noble and stuff. When he carried me all the way to my room (without anyone around. What did he do? Lock them up in the basement?) and put me on the bed, he smiled.
"Where is everyone?"
"Gone. Big mission. Took everyone. Even Julie."
I showed him my fish impression. "What?"
"They were really desperate."
"Then why didn't you go?
The bashful grin appeared. "Because I knew you were coming home so I faked being sick." There was a light pink blush crossing both cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
As I laid myself down on my bed, I couldn't help bit my lower lip to suppress a smile.
Who needed Donovan St. Loy when I had him.
