Fuck, Hemlock thought. Musta hit my hand when I grabbed onto that Sentinel. She massaged her knuckles on her right hand, eyes still closed, enjoying the warmth of the bed. Beds rock. I should sleep in beds more often. She slowly opened her eyes, then propelled herself to her other side, the morning light from the window having shone into her eyes like a flashlight in a hospital room. "Ugh," she groaned.

She pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around the room. There was another bed in the room, which looked like it was made in a rush. She and BlackMagick had been assigned this room the previous night. The mutants that had saved them from the Sentinel had brought them here. Apparently it was a school for "gifted youngsters." A mutant school. Professor Charles Xaivier said we would get training and proper schooling here. Good, the Runaways need the training, she had thought. As soon as she was brought to her room, she laid down and, as she would say it, "passed the fuck out."

She went to the bathroom and stared at herself. "I look like dog shit," she thought aloud. The half-asleep girl washed her dirty face. She was pleased to see a packaged toothbrush sitting on the counter of the sink she was using. Along with it was toothpaste. She stayed in the shower for an hour and a half, washing everywhere she could twice over, watching caked dirt swirl down the drain, and basking in the idea of hot water on her skin.

When she was out she wrapped herself in the white robe that was hanging on the wall, next to the one Christinia had obviously used. She sprawled out on the bed, feeling cleaner than she had ever been. I want new clothes. She decided a shopping mission was much needed, but until then she would wear her old, ripped up jeans with multicolored patches, lime green halter top, Doc Martens that came to the ankle, and leather jacket – other than the boots, all stolen items. She had gotten quite good at it, figuring that if she stole from a major corporation, it was still moral. They made tons of money off of third world countries, after all.

Katie looked at the class schedule, and realized she was two hours late for her first class, and it was thirty minutes into her third one. She didn't care much though, never being all too interested in school, only going to classes and getting straight As because her father was very strict about them. But this period was physical education, a subject she enjoyed. Staying fit equaled survival, this was something her father had taught her. Though she disliked the man and disagreed with his discipline tactics, she agreed with many of his beliefs. She ran to the room that was marked on the map for this class.

Christinialynne had been requested to sit in on a class of the Professor's. It was in his office, the subject of English Lit. The office was very much dressed in the personality that exemplified its owner. Handsome leather chairs, with a dark oak desk, great bookshelves that made BlackMagick's fingers itch to touch, filled to the ceiling with leather bound books.

You should be paying attention.

Black's Eyes snapped back to the professor's. The whole class was looking at her.

"I'm sorry, I missed the question."

He smiled. "What do you think the underlying meaning of the poem, The Lady of Shallot, is and what it has to do with today's society. "

Christinialynne took a deep breath, realizing that she, too, had done a synopsis of this poem when she was in high school. And that most likely, this was a test.

"Written by Lord Tennyson, in 1832, later revised in 1842. The ballad tells how the effect of love can be totally unnoticed by anyone. And how the thought of just waiting for life to hand you what you want is never acceptable. She sits and weaves, when the story it self is a tapestry. There are four parts, each changing with the seasons, and also changing pretense and past tense. It also alternates the real world, and the world she created. The curse that she keeps talking about, I think she brought on her self. And the underlying meaning of this poem and what it has to do with today is this. If you hope and think of the worst, then the worst with happen." She looked at a couple of the students, then back to the professor. "And like the Lady of Shallot, thinking that the dramatic will get noticed enhanced by your bad choice will only make people think you a fool."

The students looked back to their teacher and waited for his opinion. A couple snickered at her response; one even suggested that her analyst of it was wrong. BlackMagick scrunch her nose at them, "Actually, it isn't wrong, because it's my opinion of the poem, and it's my interruption."

"Absolutely. I want an essay on why a poem is written the way it is, and what images its supposed to create. As well as your own interruption of this poem."

The bell rang as soon as he finished his instructions, making the students file out of the room. It was larger than she had first thought. A Persian rug covered the floor, and busts stood on pedestals behind the desk. The desk was also bigger than she thought, it made the professor look imposing behind it.

"I asked you here this morning because I want you to start observing the other teachers while they work."

When Xavier motioned for her to sit in one of the leather-backed chairs, BlackMagick didn't refuse. "I don't understand though. Why do I need to observe them?"

The professor clasped his hands and set them on the desk in front of him. "The way that your powers manifest leaves much improvement for you. You must concentrate to do anything, yet when faced with a stressful task, your powers leave you defenseless."

"So I'm going to deal with it by watching teachers?" Christinialynne looked doubtful. "To tell you the truth, Professor, I'd much rather deal with my problem alone." She got up from the chair, and started moving towards the door.

Afraid of feeling wanted?

The thought whispered in the back of her mind, just like before, giving her the feeling that someone had said something, yet not. She stopped mid stride.

Alone

Feeling alone is better

Alone

The thoughts were layered, and coming from al around.

Just concentrate

Just relax

Find your center

Black closed her eyes, trying to clear her head. While the battle in her head was happening, the Professor was still talking about her observing the others.

"No!" She stated firmly, and opened her eyes.

The thoughts had stopped.

"What objection do you truly have to it?" He asked

"I am not a teacher! You have to go to school for that, and actually know what you're talking about. At best, I could talk about Yoga or dance, paganism even. But nothing else."

"Good. Now that that's settled, we shall have your class gain enrollment at the end of the week, when the semester rolls over."

Christinialynne stood dumbfounded. "What is settled? What am I teaching?"

The professor smiled. " Dance"