Just a reminder that if text is italicized with single quotation marks around it, that means it's being said or heard telepathically.

Rachel's POV

When Storm came into the Earth Science classroom, I already know we are in trouble today. I can sense it.

So I'm not surprised when she announces that we're going to have a hands-on activity today. "It's the time of year where the seeds for the garden need to be germinated, and what better way to do that than to teach you all how to?" She asks. "Everyone, pick out a pair of gloves and come to the back of the room."

It's hard to believe that just five months ago, I was fighting never-ending galactic battles with the Shi'ar. I had no rules, classes, and most importantly, no bedtime. Now I'm pushing cucumber seeds down into a pot of soil around a table of other mutant thirteen-year-olds.

"Now, your jobs are going to be to take care of these plants," Auntie Ororo says, passing out sticks and markers for us to put our names on. "Every day, you'll water them before class, and once the seeds sprout and the weather is nice, it will be your responsibility to transplant them into the outside gardens."

Yeah, with the fact in mind that my classmates can hardly take care of themselves, I doubt we will get a bountiful harvest this summer.

"Do you have any plans for tonight, Rachel?" Illyana, one of my few friends at this school, asks. I shrug and peel the rubbery garden gloves from my hands.

"I have to go to the mall with my mom after classes are over, but after that, I don't. Why?"

"Well, a bunch of the eleventh-grade boys is going to be playing basketball after dinner tonight," She brushed wisps of blonde hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. "The Proff said they could use the court downstairs since it's so cold out. That means some of them will be shirtless."

My nose wrinkles. "Okay, and...?"

She giggles. "And some of the boys will be sweaty. It'll be so hot!"

I stare at my friend in shock. That's actually a thing that turns people on? I thought that's a just made-up thing like cauliflower rice. "Will it though? What's so hot about boys perspiring? They're in the middle of puberty, Illyana. They'll smell disgusting."

"But that doesn't change the fact that they'll have glistening abs."

I shake my head. "Sorry to disappoint but you can count me out. Frankly, I'd rather do my algebra homework than watch a sport I don't understand just to see sweaty abs that I don't care about."

"Okay, that's fair. Suit yourself then." She skips off and goes. I hear her and Jubilee giggling, looking at our classmate, Everett, as he playfully flexes his muscles. I thought girls just did that to make boys feel good, but now that I think about it, girls often talk about boys when they aren't even around them.

It's like they actually do find them attractive.

Huh, I wonder if I should be concerned about my lack of interest in boys.

As the day went on, a headache began blooming across my skull. It's become even more noticeable during study hall. I dig through my backpack, finding the bottle of ibuprofen Mom had put in it for when my cramps got bad during classes. I pop two pills and chug down half my bottle of water to get them down.

Then I continue trying to get the reading assignment that the Professor assigned my class. I'm usually a fast reader, but I'm not even halfway through the chapter when the bell rings.

I stuff my books into my bag and head out into the hall. Each shout of the students around me feels like a hammer to the brain. I'm relieved to see students being released from Mom's classroom as well because that means we'll be leaving the school to go to the mall. The car ride will be quieter, and will give the pain meds I took time to kick in.

"Bye, Dr. Grey," The last straggler, a very pretty girl named Kitty Pryde, called, leaving the room as I slipped in through the door. My mom is erasing equations from the chalkboard. She turns when I come in, smiling at me.

"Ready to go?" She asks.

The cool air in the garage feels nice and I slip in the front seat of my mom's car. I turn the radio off when it came on.

Mom frowns at that action. "Are you feeling alright? You usually love the radio being on."

"I'm fine. I just have a little headache," I wave my hand to hopefully put a stop to any worry she may have. "The other kids were too loud today."

I can tell she is still eyeing me warily even with my head turned towards the window, but she does not pry anymore. We both know how easily headaches come to telepaths, after all. Too loud or too crowded of an area can cause it.

"Well, just let me know if you need to go home," she says while she pulls onto the main road. We drive a few miles in silence before arriving at the mall.

But now comes the part of the trip I'm dreading; Engagement Photo clothes shopping.

"I don't understand," I say as Mom skims through a rack of dresses at TJ Maxx. "You and dad are the ones engaged. Why do I have to be in the photos?"

"Because you are our daughter. We want this wedding to be inclusive to you as well, including the photos," she answers.

"But Aunt Sara doesn't even like me." The first time I was introduced to my maternal grandparents and aunt, they did not take it very well. The Grey family is rather... proper, for lack of a better term. They were not too thrilled to find out that Mom threw yet another wrench into their plans of being respected citizens.

Once the holidays rolled around, they were more welcoming towards me. My grandparents got me some cool Christmas gifts like a Polaroid camera and new headphones and tried to get to know me better. But then disaster struck when I was playing with my little cousins and they insisted I showed them my powers.

Apparently making my baby cousin float up into the air with my telekinesis was drawing the line, because Aunt Sara freaked out. I single-handled managed to put an end to the Grey's Christmas celebration with that stunt. Impressive, huh?

But I guess my grandmother has convinced Aunt Sara to move past that incident because she is taking my parents' engagement photos this weekend.

Mom sighs. "You just scared her when you lifted Joseph as you did. And I know Gailynn asked you too, your aunt is dramatic. She always has been. Now, what do you think of this one?" As she speaks, she pulls out a baby-blue blue cable-knit sweater. "Maybe with white jeans and flats?"

"Sure." I honestly don't know how to do fashion and don't care enough to learn. Asking a chair for opinions on what would look good together would produce better results than asking me. Mom should know this by now. Just the thought of doing this for much longer is enough to worsen my headache even more!

After she tries on the outfit and a few others in the dressing room, we move onto the "Misses" section of the store.

"I probably could not convince you to wear a skirt, could I?" she asks, her fingers brushing over the material of a plaid skirt. My expression must be enough of an answer before she puts the piece of clothing back on the rack and continues looking.

'Five more minutes and I'm out of here'

'Why won't she just shut up and let me pick my own clothes?'

'What do I have to wear to be loved?'

'Ooh! Pink!'

'If only I weighed thirty pounds less'

'If only I could afford this'

'If only I had the curves for this'

'If only I was skinny enough for this'

'If you like Piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain.'

'Maybe Brian will notice me in this.'

'Oh no, she's losing control of her telepathy!'

'I'll be the hottest queen on that stage, honey.'

'Black or blue? Or maybe I should go with gray.'

My eyes widen and I look around frantically as I start hearing everyone's thoughts. No, no, no. Not here. Please don't lose control here. What the hell is wrong with me? I don't lose control of my powers!

"Rachel!" Mom calls, but her voice feels like it's miles away. I'm drowning in the sea of thoughts. I can't turn them off! I can't stop hearing them! They just keep coming, one right after the other, overlapping.

Why can't everyone just stop thinking?

"STOP!"

I guess the next thing I do is blackout because when I come to again, I'm kneeling on the floor with a lot of angry, mutant-hating patrons around us.

To Be Continued...

AN: Did I just spend most of the day in my bedroom writing this chapter because I couldn't stop thinking about it? Yes. Do I regret it? Not at all. Thanks for reading!