Apparently, giving the man- or anyone, for that matter- a good jolt had not
been Aubrey's best course of action, or at least that seemed to be the gist
of the lecture the woman was giving her. Aubrey felt slightly guilty for
ignoring most of it, but only slightly. After all, she'd known it wasn't
her best course of action at the time, she just lacked the ability to say,
"Abracadabra!" and have this stupid power go off on its merry way.
The woman seemed to be finishing up though, and Aubrey dragged herself back to the job of listening intently. Or at least looking like she was, which was indeed made easier by the fact that the woman was flying the jet, and thus couldn't stop to take a look back at Aubrey.
"-and that is why it is important to control your powers, Aubrey. The burns, the neurological damage, the heart failure... you don't really want to cause these things, do you? You don't want to test your luck when people's lives are on the line," the woman finished.
Testing your luck is fun though, thought Aubrey. Aloud, she only asked about something else she'd been wondering.
"What're your names, anyway? You seem quite familiar with mine."
"Oh dear, I am sorry," the man replied unhappily. His wheelchair was strapped into the back of the jet, across from where Aubrey sat. Though the woman was piloting the thing, Aubrey got the impression she'd be far more comfortable as a passenger.
"I am Professor Charles Xavier, although many of my students prefer to call me Professor X or simply Professor. My companion is Ororo Munroe, or Storm as many of the children like to call her."
Children, thought Aubrey. That brought up more questions.
"So this school- does it teach normal curriculum or just train our... powers?" she asked, pausing slightly.
"We strive to both increase students' knowledge and their mental control," the Professor replied evenly.
Ouch. Two rounds of school in one, thought Aubrey as she continued her inquiry.
"How old are the kids? People my age, or just ikkle tykes?"
"Students at the School range in age from five to eighteen, though many older mutants stay to work as teachers or hone their skills."
"Is Storm a teacher, then? Are you, or is Professor more of an image thing?"
"Yes, Ororo is a teacher; she instructs the older students- like yourself- in world history. I teach higher level calculus and metaphysics."
"Is there a pool?" she asked, hopeful. Both Xavier and Storm laughed, having seen how it had taxed her to wait so long before asking.
"Yes, indeed," replied Storm from the front. "But you'll have to wait a while for us to get you a place and some clothes before you can go down there."
"Where does everybody stay? Dorms?"
"We have a large campus, and the students stay in dorms with others of their gender. The dorms are also separated by age; you'll be staying with the high school girls."
"Yay. No ikkle tykes for me, then."
"You do realize, Aubrey, that to me, you are little more than an 'ikkle tyke'?" said the Professor, amused.
Looking back at him, Aubrey grinned and put her thumb in her mouth, then stuck her tongue out at him. Shaking his head, the Professor continued, "I think you'll fit in quite well."
"How do you fly this thing around without getting caught?"
"It flies faster than the human eye can see, and if you haven't noticed, we also try to fly it mostly at night," replied the Professor. "Though if you're interested, I'll bet you could find someone to explain it to you in much more detail than you ever wanted," he continued, and from the sparkle in his eyes, she could see that he had a specific person in mind. "Storm also regularly provides cover for the jet."
Nice, thought Aubrey. I wanna take this out for a spin... bet a barrel roll would be fun in this thing.
"Here we are," said the Professor happily as the jet began its descent. As the jet came down to hover over a landing pad, he continued, "Welcome to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Aubrey."
"And Dad never believed me when I told him I'd go to an East Coast School," murmured Aubrey, grinning.
----
The landing pad was even more of an elaborate operation than Aubrey first guessed, and as soon as she saw how the sub-level was organized, she was determined to explore as much of it as possible over her time here.
She didn't get the chance to start, however, as the two older mutants went to each side of her like trained bodyguards. They led her down a shining silver hall, reminding Aubrey of the spaceships in old sci-fi movies. When they came to a circular elevator that looked like it belonged in Star Trek, the Professor wheeled around to face her.
"Storm will help you find clothes and situate you in your dorm. I regret that I must now return to my administrative duties, but I will speak with you again later," he said as he watched the doors slide silently open. Then he rolled inside and disappeared as the doors closed again.
Aubrey's flip-flop's seemed deafening as she followed Storm further down the hall. The older woman ducked into a storage room to their left. Opening various cabinets, she questioned Aubrey for her measurements and then took out assorted items and gave them to Aubrey. Pajamas, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and even, Aubrey was ecstatic to see, a swimsuit joined the pile, now a mass of grey, white and black. Everything had an "X" logo, and Aubrey saw nothing colored until Storm threw two pairs of Levi's on top of the pile, almost as an afterthought.
Seeing Aubrey's look, Storm grinned. "Xavier wouldn't buy jeans until we made him listen to every kid who came through and complained. And you can go shopping later if you want to; these are just to make sure you have a few clean things.
----
The dorm Storm took her to was a long room on the second floor with beds lining its walls. It was in general disarray, though it was still easy to see where each girl's space ended. The beds on each side were divided into pairs, and each pair shared a dresser. Large chests on the end of each bed provided even more storage space, and doors at the end of the room led off to large bath- and dressing-rooms.
Placing her few belongings in the chest at the bottom of her bed, Aubrey waved goodbye to Storm, who said she had a few things to check on. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a white tank top, Aubrey headed down the hallway to the dressing rooms. After a slightly unpleasant shock at realizing they reminded her strongly of fitting rooms in a mall, she slipped into the nearest one and changed out of her dirty clothes.
Tossing her dirty clothes in a laundry bag Storm had pointed out, Aubrey headed out herself, wondering where exactly the student body here chose to spend a Saturday afternoon as she slid down the polished wood banister to the ground floor.
As she walked through the corridor, she began finding students. Two her own age were making out in a corner, and she resisted the urge to suggest they get a room. Other, smaller students were running around, apparently playing a large game of tag in which the whole first floor was fair game. As they whizzed by, Aubrey thought she smelled pizza from one of the nearby rooms, and headed off to investigate.
Indeed, there was pizza, and the rest of the kitchen held things that look no less appetizing. Aubrey opened a large refrigerator and grabbed the makings for sandwiches, and began a quest to find some bread. After a few minutes of looking through cabinets, she found one full of assorted loaves of bread, with more styles and kinds than you'd find in your local supermarket.
As Aubrey was piling several slices of bread high with turkey, vegetables, and mayo, she heard a voice behind her.
"I suppose we do feed everybody that wanders in here, but most of them take things a bit at a time, not grab all the food they see and run," said a dark-haired guy around Aubrey's age.
"Hey, I'm hungry," she said, shrugging as she took a large bite out of one of those sandwiches.
"Even less often that you find a girl doing that," he continued, grinning.
"Well, most girls have gotten something to eat in the last twenty-four hours. And most of them don't have an appetite."
The boy laughed. "Well, well. Finally a new kid with a sense of humor. What's your name?"
"Aubrey Lowe," she responded, finishing off the first sandwich and starting on her second.
"You're the one that knocked out Cyclops, aren't you?" he asked, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Guess so," she replied. "Where'd you find something to drink around here?"
"There's another fridge round the corner," replied another boy, this one blond haired.
"Name's Pyro," said the first boy, clicking his lighter and playing with a ball of flame.
"Show off," muttered the second boy, whipping his hand over the fire and freezing it. Pyro dropped it and glared at the second boy. "I'm Bobby," he continued, ignoring Pyro's look.
The woman seemed to be finishing up though, and Aubrey dragged herself back to the job of listening intently. Or at least looking like she was, which was indeed made easier by the fact that the woman was flying the jet, and thus couldn't stop to take a look back at Aubrey.
"-and that is why it is important to control your powers, Aubrey. The burns, the neurological damage, the heart failure... you don't really want to cause these things, do you? You don't want to test your luck when people's lives are on the line," the woman finished.
Testing your luck is fun though, thought Aubrey. Aloud, she only asked about something else she'd been wondering.
"What're your names, anyway? You seem quite familiar with mine."
"Oh dear, I am sorry," the man replied unhappily. His wheelchair was strapped into the back of the jet, across from where Aubrey sat. Though the woman was piloting the thing, Aubrey got the impression she'd be far more comfortable as a passenger.
"I am Professor Charles Xavier, although many of my students prefer to call me Professor X or simply Professor. My companion is Ororo Munroe, or Storm as many of the children like to call her."
Children, thought Aubrey. That brought up more questions.
"So this school- does it teach normal curriculum or just train our... powers?" she asked, pausing slightly.
"We strive to both increase students' knowledge and their mental control," the Professor replied evenly.
Ouch. Two rounds of school in one, thought Aubrey as she continued her inquiry.
"How old are the kids? People my age, or just ikkle tykes?"
"Students at the School range in age from five to eighteen, though many older mutants stay to work as teachers or hone their skills."
"Is Storm a teacher, then? Are you, or is Professor more of an image thing?"
"Yes, Ororo is a teacher; she instructs the older students- like yourself- in world history. I teach higher level calculus and metaphysics."
"Is there a pool?" she asked, hopeful. Both Xavier and Storm laughed, having seen how it had taxed her to wait so long before asking.
"Yes, indeed," replied Storm from the front. "But you'll have to wait a while for us to get you a place and some clothes before you can go down there."
"Where does everybody stay? Dorms?"
"We have a large campus, and the students stay in dorms with others of their gender. The dorms are also separated by age; you'll be staying with the high school girls."
"Yay. No ikkle tykes for me, then."
"You do realize, Aubrey, that to me, you are little more than an 'ikkle tyke'?" said the Professor, amused.
Looking back at him, Aubrey grinned and put her thumb in her mouth, then stuck her tongue out at him. Shaking his head, the Professor continued, "I think you'll fit in quite well."
"How do you fly this thing around without getting caught?"
"It flies faster than the human eye can see, and if you haven't noticed, we also try to fly it mostly at night," replied the Professor. "Though if you're interested, I'll bet you could find someone to explain it to you in much more detail than you ever wanted," he continued, and from the sparkle in his eyes, she could see that he had a specific person in mind. "Storm also regularly provides cover for the jet."
Nice, thought Aubrey. I wanna take this out for a spin... bet a barrel roll would be fun in this thing.
"Here we are," said the Professor happily as the jet began its descent. As the jet came down to hover over a landing pad, he continued, "Welcome to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Aubrey."
"And Dad never believed me when I told him I'd go to an East Coast School," murmured Aubrey, grinning.
----
The landing pad was even more of an elaborate operation than Aubrey first guessed, and as soon as she saw how the sub-level was organized, she was determined to explore as much of it as possible over her time here.
She didn't get the chance to start, however, as the two older mutants went to each side of her like trained bodyguards. They led her down a shining silver hall, reminding Aubrey of the spaceships in old sci-fi movies. When they came to a circular elevator that looked like it belonged in Star Trek, the Professor wheeled around to face her.
"Storm will help you find clothes and situate you in your dorm. I regret that I must now return to my administrative duties, but I will speak with you again later," he said as he watched the doors slide silently open. Then he rolled inside and disappeared as the doors closed again.
Aubrey's flip-flop's seemed deafening as she followed Storm further down the hall. The older woman ducked into a storage room to their left. Opening various cabinets, she questioned Aubrey for her measurements and then took out assorted items and gave them to Aubrey. Pajamas, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and even, Aubrey was ecstatic to see, a swimsuit joined the pile, now a mass of grey, white and black. Everything had an "X" logo, and Aubrey saw nothing colored until Storm threw two pairs of Levi's on top of the pile, almost as an afterthought.
Seeing Aubrey's look, Storm grinned. "Xavier wouldn't buy jeans until we made him listen to every kid who came through and complained. And you can go shopping later if you want to; these are just to make sure you have a few clean things.
----
The dorm Storm took her to was a long room on the second floor with beds lining its walls. It was in general disarray, though it was still easy to see where each girl's space ended. The beds on each side were divided into pairs, and each pair shared a dresser. Large chests on the end of each bed provided even more storage space, and doors at the end of the room led off to large bath- and dressing-rooms.
Placing her few belongings in the chest at the bottom of her bed, Aubrey waved goodbye to Storm, who said she had a few things to check on. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a white tank top, Aubrey headed down the hallway to the dressing rooms. After a slightly unpleasant shock at realizing they reminded her strongly of fitting rooms in a mall, she slipped into the nearest one and changed out of her dirty clothes.
Tossing her dirty clothes in a laundry bag Storm had pointed out, Aubrey headed out herself, wondering where exactly the student body here chose to spend a Saturday afternoon as she slid down the polished wood banister to the ground floor.
As she walked through the corridor, she began finding students. Two her own age were making out in a corner, and she resisted the urge to suggest they get a room. Other, smaller students were running around, apparently playing a large game of tag in which the whole first floor was fair game. As they whizzed by, Aubrey thought she smelled pizza from one of the nearby rooms, and headed off to investigate.
Indeed, there was pizza, and the rest of the kitchen held things that look no less appetizing. Aubrey opened a large refrigerator and grabbed the makings for sandwiches, and began a quest to find some bread. After a few minutes of looking through cabinets, she found one full of assorted loaves of bread, with more styles and kinds than you'd find in your local supermarket.
As Aubrey was piling several slices of bread high with turkey, vegetables, and mayo, she heard a voice behind her.
"I suppose we do feed everybody that wanders in here, but most of them take things a bit at a time, not grab all the food they see and run," said a dark-haired guy around Aubrey's age.
"Hey, I'm hungry," she said, shrugging as she took a large bite out of one of those sandwiches.
"Even less often that you find a girl doing that," he continued, grinning.
"Well, most girls have gotten something to eat in the last twenty-four hours. And most of them don't have an appetite."
The boy laughed. "Well, well. Finally a new kid with a sense of humor. What's your name?"
"Aubrey Lowe," she responded, finishing off the first sandwich and starting on her second.
"You're the one that knocked out Cyclops, aren't you?" he asked, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Guess so," she replied. "Where'd you find something to drink around here?"
"There's another fridge round the corner," replied another boy, this one blond haired.
"Name's Pyro," said the first boy, clicking his lighter and playing with a ball of flame.
"Show off," muttered the second boy, whipping his hand over the fire and freezing it. Pyro dropped it and glared at the second boy. "I'm Bobby," he continued, ignoring Pyro's look.