A/N: my first and most likely only X-Men fic... Evelien's going to help me out later, but this chapter's written by yours truly. The beginning's a little interesting, but it's more like a little extra something to get you into the swing of things. :-D I don't own the X-Men of course, because if I did, Jean wouldn't be with that loser Scott. However, Zirelle, Sari, Camara, Shadow, and Raven are all mine... NO STEALING THEM! THEY'RE ALL MINE! So... now for the story... please R&R!

Zirelle Gainer sprinted across the hot sand of the island of Maui's coast with a white and teal striped surfboard tucked protectively under her right arm and a portable radio grasped tightly in her left hand. A smile crossed her lips as her feet hit the warm water of the waves that powerfully crashed along the beach. The wind blew her long wavy red hair into her eyes, but she could still clearly see that she was the only one daring enough to surf in these rough waters. Zirelle's audacious attitude was what separated her from the rest of the wannabe-famous surfers, and off course, the reason she turned pro at the age of eleven, after her god-given talent that is.
Finally satisfied that she had reached the best spot on the beach, not to mention far enough from the reef so it wouldn't be dangerous, she set the mini silver stereo on the beach and turned the system on full blast making sure it was audible over the steady pulse of the thirty-footers before her. She immediately recognized the melody of "Surfin USA" as she paddled out to catch the perfect wave, anxious to weave her fingers through the cool, clear blue water.
It seemed like minutes before the first set of waves came even relatively close to breaking on her, and she wasn't going to stay put any longer. Using her arms, she turned the board and pushed as hard as she could to move with the wave. She felt herself rise up the water and sprung to her feet in one swift motion as the wave began to curl over her head. Pivoting on her right foot, she glided along the water, her left hand running through the spray as it danced over her head. She had been riding tube since she was ten but the thrill never ceased to fade. She shouted, "WOOHOO!" to the palm trees that blew, rustling in the wind. Her board slid on top of the wave as it flattened out, smiling from ear to ear.
If surfing could be the only she had to deal with in her life, but worrying about catching the perfect wave wasn't the least of her troubles. At the mere age of fourteen, she lived a secret life, a hidden life filled with the never-ending feeling of being an outcast and sheer terror. Abandoned at birth by her parents, Zirelle lived her entire life in the system, passing through foster parents as quickly as she had passed through grade school. Mariah Gainer, her most recent foster mother, who finally adopted her and her two foster sisters after years of living together, was anything but pleasant. At first she and her two foster sisters, Camara and Sari, were thrilled to finally have a place that they could actually call home, but joy quickly turned to distraught when social services turned their backs on the three youngsters. Mariah Gainer turned out to be exactly opposite of the cheery, carefree woman she once was. Her voice suddenly became louder, her words harsh like little hornets stinging the girls, and her hands soon became weapons.
Ms. Gainer's hatred towards her three children turned mostly on young Zirelle and her even younger sister, Camara. Sari had just turned sixteen and seemed almost too old for Mariah to waste her time with, plus she was always running around with her boyfriend, Erik and was hardly ever home. Zirelle had been tutored by her social services worker, Adora, and had officially graduated with all honors, something that did not go over to well with Mariah. She herself was a high school drop out, and envied Zirelle's intelligence. Eventually Mariah's actions drove Zirelle over the edge and into the dark world of anorexia. She constantly starved her, and often followed the harsh punishment of locking her in her room by beating her over and over until the flesh on her palms bled open.
Zirelle never did cry though, even with all the horrid things she had to put up with in her life. If being abused and starving wasn't enough, God also put another burden on her shoulders.
She. Was. A. Mutant.

THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE R&R! I LIVE FOR YOUR FEEDBACK!
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