Bobby

Fall 2016 - Long Island, New York

"Hey man! Wasn't sure if you were going to make it." Jake got a good look at his friend. "How are you going to explain that one Monday morning to Mrs. Franz?"

Bobby Drake shrugged and swiped the bottle of vodka out of Jake's hand and took a swig. "Same as always. Got into a fight over the weekend." Passing the bottle back to Jake he looked around the abandoned building. "I think I heard someone talking about a party over in North Floral. Want to check it out?"

Jake took the bottle back from Bobby, taking another swig. "I don't know. They can be a little uppity." He would have been fine just hanging out with Bobby. They could usually score a bottle or two from one of the bodegas if they finished the one they had.

"Yeah, but they also usually have the good stuff."

Jake nodded and passed the bottle back. "Ok. But let's finish this first." Bobby had been pushing things more and lately. Neither one of their home situations were the best but Bobby's had definitely gotten worse over the last year. He nodded at the bruise forming around Bobby's eye and cheek. "What set him off this time?"

He took a long swig from the bottle. "Who knows. Bad day at work, didn't like dinner, and I didn't move fast enough when he said 'get me a beer'." He took another long sip. "He doesn't seem to need a reason. Last week I think I just looked at him wrong." He handed the bottle back to Jake. "Finish it off and let's go."

Jake shook his head. They had started with a half full bottle. He was already starting to feel buzzed. Bobby didn't look like it had affected him at all.

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Bobby maneuvered his way through the crowd, Jake trailing in his wake. It hasn't taken them too long to find the party. They had also managed to pick up another bottle on the way but he wasn't sure either one of them were getting much out of it. Jake was toasted and it just didn't affect Bobby the way it used to. He wanted to feel nothing. Not the ache in his face, or the duller ache in his arm from earlier in the week. Alcohol wasn't cutting it any more. The reason he had wanted to check out this particular party was because he had heard they had gotten some of the new designer drug that was flooding the street. He hadn't seen anyone selling it in his own neighborhood. Which is why he wanted to try to find some here. He had tried a couple of the other ones and nothing seemed to numb him enough. Why not try the next thing. Who knows, maybe this would do it. Finally seeing someone with what looked like a bowl of tic tacs he made his way over to the group that was standing around. It wasn't long before one of the pills was dropped into his hand. Not hesitating for a moment he popped it into his mouth and chased it with vodka.

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Bobby pulled the covers up over his head. Being hung over was such a regular occurrence at this point he had learned to live with it. What he couldn't quite figure out was why he was so cold. He thought it was too early for a cold snap. He snuggled down into the covers. He knew his parents were both working this morning so he had the apartment to himself. He could sleep it off and by the time they got home he could hopefully just retreat to his room and try to work on some of the homework that was due Monday morning.

He rolled over a couple hours later to try to adjust the covers around him again. He glanced over at the clock and pushed himself up. If he was still in bed when his dad got home he'd be sporting another bruise he'd have to explain. Pulling open his door he stepped out into the hallway and made his way to the bathroom. He could not figure out why it was so damn cold. He turned on the shower and let it heat up before stepping in. He thought the warm water would take the chill off but it wasn't. In fact, it just felt weird. Knocking the temperature down he gave up and just let cold water beat against his skin. People who were hung over usually took cold showers…or maybe that was drunk people. Either way it was actually making him feel better. He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Toweling off on the way back to his room he threw the towel into the pile in his closet and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatshirt. Glancing at the clock he realized he had just enough time to grab food from the kitchen and settle in his room with his school books before his dad got home.

Two pages into his English assignment he heard the door open and then slam shut. Just once he wished his dad would come home in a good mood. It wasn't likely to happen in his lifetime so he pushed the childish desire out of his head and went back to focusing on his English paper.

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Dropping his pen on the finished paper he strained to hear into the living room. He hadn't heard the slamming of the refrigerator or the crash of dishes as they were tossed into the sink in a while so maybe his dad was asleep. Passed out was more likely the better term but either way Bobby thought it might be safe. He gathered up his dishes and made his way quietly into the kitchen. Seeing the mess that had been created since he was in there a few hours ago made him angry, but also a little sad. Deciding he didn't want his mom to have to deal with it when she got him, he quietly opened the dishwasher and loaded the dishes. He almost had it done when one of the plates slipped and clanged against another one. Cringing, he heard his dad drag himself off the couch.

"What are you doing?"

Bobby sighed and slid the plate into place. Closing the dishwasher, he hit start. "Cleaning up so mom doesn't have to."

"What are you saying…that you're cleaning up after me?"

Bobby turned around and bit his tongue. Yes, that's exactly what he was saying. He just knew he couldn't. "I'm going to bed." He walked past his dad. He thought he might be in the clear but then suddenly felt a chill down to his bones. Then a slap across his head. But, his dad must not have gotten a good shot because it didn't hurt nearly as bad as it normally did. He also didn't expect the cry of agony. Spinning around he looked at his dad holding his hand. He wanted to say 'serves you right' but instead he walked over to the freezer and pulled out an ice pack. Handing it to his dad he pushed past him and retreated to his room.

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Bobby adjusted his backpack over his shoulder, debating whether to walk or take the bus. Opting for a walk, he navigated through the streets of North Queens. Maybe if he was lucky he'd see Spider-Man stopping a criminal again. He had seen him a couple months ago and it had been pretty cool. He watched the people around him on the off chance he might see something. After a few minutes he was pretty sure a guy with red sunglasses was following him. He did not want to have to deal with gangs today. Crossing the street, he watched the guy cross too. Picking up his pace he barreled through the crowd until it thinned out a little. He was a couple blocks over from where he needed to be. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the guy about a block behind him. Yep…definitely being followed. Turning back around he almost ran into a guy in a wheelchair. "I'm so sorry."

"Bobby, I'd like to talk to you."

Bobby froze and looked down at the man in the wheelchair. He thought he heard his voice saying 'I mean you no harm. I just want to talk' but his lips weren't moving.

"Who are you?" Bobby glanced over his shoulder and saw that the guy with the glasses had come to a halt about 20 feet away.

"My name is Professor Xavier. I help people who are different." The professor watched Bobby. He knew he was skittish. It didn't matter how many times he had done this, there was never a good way to say 'Your world is about to change because you're a mutant.'

Bobby shook his head and started to walk around the man in the wheelchair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've felt cold over the last 24 hours, right?"

Bobby froze in place. Turning around he looked at the man in the wheelchair, studied him. He didn't seem like he wanted to hurt him. There was something about him that made him want to trust him.

Professor Xavier took Bobby's motions as an invitation to continue. "There's a drug that's being circulated that triggers certain genes within gifted individuals. I believe yours has been triggered."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Even as Bobby was saying it he realized he didn't believe it. He had felt different since waking up after the party.

Professor Xavier smiled. "Your abilities will continue to grow. I can help you understand them and use them. They're nothing to be afraid of." He paused for a moment unsure of how much Bobby was ready for. "Your self preservation instincts will kick in anytime you're in danger. I can teach you how to control it, even use it to your benefit and the benefit of others."

Bobby frowned. His dad's hand. Had he done that? "What's the catch?"

Professor Xavier smiled. 'No catch. I know what it's like to be different and I feel like I've been given this gift to help others.'

Bobby realized quicker this time that the man's lips weren't moving. "That is seriously cool."

Professor Xavier laughed. "I run a school in upstate New York. Everyone there is, shall we say, different. If you're interested, I can extend a scholarship opportunity to your parents. It's up to you if you tell them the real reason." Based on what he knew about Bobby Drake he was fairly confident he would not be telling his parents. "I do have rules. No more drugs. No alcohol. It really is a school so you will have normal school work but we also instruct our students in how to use their abilities."

"We?" Bobby noticed the guy with the red glasses had closed the gap.

"Scott Summers." He reached out to shake Bobby's hands. "The glasses keep my laser beam eyes from killing everyone."

Bobby chuckled but realized Scott wasn't laughing. "You're serious."

Scott nodded. "Laser beam eyes may be a slight exaggeration but it's close enough." He paused for a second. "What do you think?"

"I'm in."