Around noon at the local library, story time was taking place. X23 had taken refuge from the multitude of tiny children by retreating into the depths of the children's nonfiction section. The books in front of her had call numbers starting with 741.

Her eyes were scanning over books about bats as men, decorative lights, and a serious card player. Her hand rested on the second, but something met her sensitive ears. By now the children had quieted down, though the story was in full swing.

"'"Oh, I'm tired of always being a marionette!" cried Pinocchio, disgusted,'" the librarian read, the first part in a high, squeaky voice and the last three in a normal, talking-to-children tone. X23's blood froze, her ears pricked, the rest of her body began trembling. "'"It's about time form e to grow as everyone else does. I want to be a real person rather than a wooden boy."'"

It was too much for her to take. In an incredibly acrobatic move, she had leaped over the shelves and was on her way out. She paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the larger nonfiction area, knowing the outside world could contain much danger, but this building contained bad memories. "'"And you will if you deserve it–"'" sounded behind her, driving her up into the taller shelves. She took the stairs two at a time, jumping the banister a few steps from the top. "'"Really?" Pinocchio exclaimed'" her mind continued. "'"Tell me, what can I do to deserve it?"'" her own mind supplied. She sunk down at the foot of a shelf. The numbers on the spines of the books above her head read: "398."

Several hours later, Bayville High let out. Wanda cut through the crowds and made her way towards the library. Huge reports loomed over her head, each requiring at least three books. First she checked with the computers on the call numbers for each subject before heading upstairs. She started heading towards the four hundreds, but then she heard something. It sounded very much like crying.

"Hello?" she called, following the sound. "Who's there?"

A girl, only a little younger than herself, was curled up on the ground. Her arms were wrapped tightly around legs covered with torn denim and long, uneven brown hair spilled over a shirt a few shades away from the pants. She lifted her head as the Scarlet Witch approached.

"Are you alright?" she asked, sitting down next to the girl. Now she could see the witty saying on the kid's shirt: "Just Shy/ Not Antisocial/ (You Can Talk To Me!)/ XKCD."

The girl shook her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wanda asked, feeling the awkwardness mount.

Another negative.

"Do you want to be alone?"

A surprisingly strong hand gripped her own. "No."

Wanda took her seat in corner of the back row of her English class. On the chalkboard was the message "Turn in reports/ Reach chapters 5-9" in large letters. She merely smiled and pulled out the book.

"Ms. Maximoff?" the teacher announced, standing up from her desk and walking down the aisle. Some of the other students began to whisper to each other, though they stopped at a stern look from the Witch. "Would you care to explain why you did not turn in a report today?"

Her mind wandered back to the Boarding House, where her house mates had been given the task of keeping her new friend company. She locked eyes with Kitty Pryde, who was a few rows away and towards the center of the room. There was an exchange of "I-thought-you-had-it-handled" and "there-are-some-things-more-important-than-grades."

"Well?"

Wanda looked right into the stern glare of the teacher and sighed. "I was talking care of someone's discarded science experiment."

XMENXMENXMEN

There you go. The third of the sickeningly sweet stories. Now we're getting somewhere.