Please read the first post for the huge Author's Note, explaining most things that might matter to this story, lol! ;)
Remember: Liberties have been taken. I'm trying to keep it 'real' and true to the spirit, though.
Enjoy!
Smashing Through the Looking Glass
Chapter Two: Part One
Who Are You, Anyway?
August 5, 2004, 5:51 PM
We move silently through the halls until we reach the kitchen. Ms. Munroe and Mr. Summers go outside ahead of me, their faces a mixture of concern and relief.
"We'll talk more later, if you like," the goddess offers, and I nod, non-committal. It isn't that I think her insincere, but she still intimidates me a bit. Our fearless leader squeezes my arm and gives me a reassuring smile. I manage to smile in return and watch them join the others, but don't follow immediately. I steal back to the washroom off the kitchen, next to the mudroom, and double-check my appearance. At least my headache has subsided to a distant Samba beat. Satisfied, I straighten my Batman t-shirt for the umpteenth time and leave the mansion through the kitchen door.
The barbeque is well underway. The back patio smells of sunscreen and mosquito candles and burning flesh. The latter is, thankfully, courtesy of the pork chops and not some violent attack by a fire-breathing demon. I find myself locating Mr. Wagner before I can stop the impulse. He's using his holographic device, as is Dr. McCoy, so the Mundanes - read the caterers - won't be alarmed and the new students won't bombard them with questions. They both look like themselves, only not so blue, and their teeth aren't quite so… pointy. I smell brimstone, but it must be my imagination.
Teleporter, not a demon. Teleporter, not a demon.
Mr. Wagner is helping Dani stick the torches into the ground around the edge of the garden. Later tonight, they'll provide light and a wonderful atmosphere for the dessert table, also catered, hem, hem. Above me two strings of paper lanterns are hanging diagonally along the beams under the porch, which covers the patio, weaving from the furthest posts to cross at the middle: a giant 'x'. Little white lights are wrapped around each of the eight posts, just waiting for dusk.
Right now, though, the sun is still shining on Xavier's and the lake behind us is a shimmering ripple. There's a cool breeze here, albeit a faint one, probably coming off the lake. Maybe it'll be comfortable to sleep tonight without the air conditioning. It's a blessing in the heat and humidity, but there's nothing like Nature's Own coming through your window and whispering your dreams.
Hmmm. That didn't sound too bad, I think to myself, absently picking up a Chinet plate and staring at the buffet of salads without really seeing them. Maybe I should write that down before I forget it. I reach with my free hand for my back pocket and my PDA -
"You'll need a fork to get anything on your plate, babe."
Jubilee grins at me and waves the recommended utensil in front of my face. I glance at her, hoping my eyes don't look puffy in the sunlight and hold out my hand. She offers it to me over her left wrist, as if she were presenting the hilt of a sword. I snatch it up and return to staring at the salads, hoping the one I finally choose is something I like. It seems to involve macaroni, and the Kraft dinner fiend in me decides that has potential.
"You okay, babe? Scotty not like your essay?"
It makes me uncomfortable when she refers to the teachers - the X-Men - by their first names - especially diminutives like 'Scotty', for crying out loud - as if she was on buddy-buddy terms with them or their authority and experience didn't matter. It's a sign of respect, as far as I'm concerned, to not be so casual about how I address them. It might affect how I start thinking about them, and I want to keep that on a positive note. Maybe I've been listening to Matsushima too long and some of those complicated, Japanese layers of address have rubbed off on me. We have been communicating since I was eleven and she was ten. Despite her cultural background, Jubilee is about as Chinese as I am… Jewish. No, I'm more Jewish than she is Chinese.
But only just. I sigh.
"He'll give me the low down later," I say, and scoop something that looks like couscous onto my plate.
"Now," she says and wiggles her eyebrows, and I know I'm about to get more information in one concentrated period than I am probably capable of retaining. Or maybe not: retention of knowledge isn't my mutant ability, but I do seem to be very good at it. "Pretend you care about your food but pay attention to what I say," she continues. "Look over at the barbeque." I do. Logan is there in his typical jeans and black tank top - he doesn't have a last name, so I can't do much about that - and Sam, wearing jeans and an American flag t-shirt - he's a teaching assistant so I don't have to call him Mr. Guthrie - and they're using tongs to place pork chops and roasted corn onto the plates of a line of students and newbies.
"See the blonde?" I do. She's wearing a white, lacy summer top, off the shoulders, a pair of flared tan pants and tanned leather mules. She looks just 'so' and isn't smiling. There's a gold necklace, gold bracelets and gold rings and I bet they aren't less than fourteen karat. Her fair complexion is like cream and I envy her that immediately. I'm not fond of my freckles. Beautiful and a bit aloof. "Her name's really long - the only part I remember is Amara - and she's some sorta royalty from Rome, or something." Jubilee fiddles with a pair of tongs and wriggles them into a spring mix salad, picking out only the leaves she likes. "Now, the girl behind her is totally different."
I regard the slight, black teen in question, who is covered in tight denim that fits like a second skin. She looks comfortable, though, and I like the way her long hair is braided and beaded in the cornrow style. Her jewellery consists of colourful beads, too: a choker and bracelet. She's smiling and thanking Sam, who smiles back. I can just hear him drawl, "No problem, miss."
"Her name's Keisha… something-or-another, and she is so nice. She's originally from the Dominican Republic and she likes Nickleback and roller blading and anything with Wesley Snipes in it."
"Good to know you've hit all the important points," I murmur, and load the other third of my plate with Caesar salad.
"Ha, ha," she deadpans. "Moving right along. The guy behind her is Russell and he's from London, England and I love the way he talks." I take in the all-black attire, spiky dark hair, and huge blue eyes and tiny, cupid lips and figure he's a strong candidate for the 'Most Likely to Dragged onto the Dance Floor' award. He's probably about my height and moves well. I figure I could take him in a fight.
"Cute," I say, and reach for a few devilled eggs.
Jubilee huffs. "Are you paying attention, babe?"
"Is there going to be a quiz later?" I ask sweetly.
"There just might be." We move to the beverage table, as tight as twins, and pretend to ponder the pop selections. I always go with something Coke oriented and she prefers Pepsi. Makes me wonder if there's hope for her. "Look over by the pool." I do. A short girl with even shorter red hair is clutching her recently filled plate and looking nervous. She's dressed like a stereotypical schoolgirl from a fifties documentary on education, in white blouse and blue kilt and loafers with knee-high socks. I'd say she was younger than me, but it could just be 'cause she looks like we're going to throw her onto the barbeque. "That's Rain, only she spells it some weird way: 'R-a-h-n-e'. She's from Scotland and was hanging out with Moira before coming here."
That's Dr. McTaggart, you moron! I say - in my mind.
Whatever.
"She's really shy. The girl she's hanging out with was also at Muir Island. I think they're glued together." I consider the other girl, who is probably older than I am. Her black hair is more severe than Jubilee's will ever be and her wardrobe is immaculate and very… traditional. I wonder if she's hot in a long sleeved, Mandarin-collared top and long, straight skirt. I bet they're made of silk. "Her name's Shan, but it's spelled 'X-i-apostrophe-a-n'. I don't know what's up with that. She's from… Vietnam? I think? I don't know. Anyway, they seem nice enough. Just a little spooked."
"I don't blame them." I reach for a Coke and pop the tab, remembering my first barbeque at the mansion. I was too excited to be really scared, but I did feel like I'd entered an episode of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. The commentators of that program would've had a field day, no doubt, reading my expressions and guessing what I was thinking. Dr. McCoy, who is one of the original X-Men like Dr. Grey, was visiting the school, taking a break between lectures on Mutant/Human relations. He was very gracious, if extremely loquacious. It was a bit of a shock when, later that night after the Mundanes had departed, he turned off his holographic camouflage and I saw how blue and furry he really was, and how his teeth were very sharp. Excessive vocabulary continued to flow from him, and it was surreal to say the least. I was glad I was sitting down. I have no clear memory of my actual thoughts, but I can hear the commentators now…
"Hey!" Jubilee snaps her fingers and I return to her running commentary. "See the boy who's getting his corn from Logan right now? He's from Brazil. His name's Roberto -"
"Great. Another Bobby -"
"Don't interrupt me, I'm on a roll." She chooses her Pepsi and I despair of her taste. "He seems to think he's pretty cool. Says he lives for soccer and is very good at it. Cocky little shit. It could be true. He seems fit, anyway, for a kid."
A kid. I consider his summer casuals - t-shirt, shorts, sneakers - and how he looks at home in the sun, vibrant, even. He does look very fit and will probably be a lady killer in a few years. Lucky us. He's maybe fourteen. Jubilee will be sixteen in October. How quickly we forget.
"The brunette with the day-glo pants? She's Angie and she's very loud but seems cool enough, I guess. She likes Nickleback, too, but thinks Vin Diesel could wipe the floor with Wesley Snipes." I take a sip of my Coke and consider Angie's purple top and brightbrightbright orange pants and decide it's a fun combination that doesn't bother me much at all. Even if I am blind, now. Her sandals are purple, too, so it sorta ties together. "She's from France, so I don't know what's up with the name 'Angie'. Her hair hasn't moved but looks real soft, so I gotta find out what she uses." I hide my smile with another sip of my Coke and we start to walk from under the porch and into the sun, gradually approaching the dwindling lines at the barbeque.
"And that leaves… Hotboy."
She says this with such relish that I almost hate to get a closer look at him, least he really be that good-looking and make me more depressed than I already am.
"I take it his name isn't 'Hotboy'."
"I'll call him anything he wants me to call him, but for now, he's my Hotboy." I try to ignore the proprietary nature of that sentence and look around the garden as if I'm admiring the decorations.
'Hotboy' has received his food and is moving to towards the pool with Roberto. He's wearing the same cut off t-shirt as he was in when we spied him from my room and I can see nice, firm abs and smooth, muscular arms. His shorts aren't too tight but the nice, firm butt is evident. He's wearing sneakers but no socks. In this heat? Ouch. He must be about six foot and the legs seem to go on forever. Xi'an says something to him and he turns enough that I get a better view of his face. Huge brown eyes, strong cheekbones, square jaw, thin, pink lips, dark curls –
"You're drooling," Jubilee whispers.
"Am not." I hope I don't look as flushed as I suddenly feel. "What's his name?"
"Jack. He's from England, like Russell, but not London. His mother is Italian."
A Renaissance angel drawn by Michelangelo has come to life and wandered into the garden. That was too poetic and sappy. Oooo, I hate that. I frown. Doesn't matter, anyway. He'll win the dance floor award and Russell will just have to take second place.
"Isn't he dreamy?"
Siryn has joined us, even though she already has her food. I know her name is really 'Theresa' but she likes being called 'Siryn' more. Maybe it's a phase she's going through, just like I did. Phase. Just like I did. Have I punned?
"Lookin' good, huh?" Rogue stands beside me, pushing some coleslaw around her plate but staring at the angel - new student, ugh - and giving me a nudge with her elbow. "Better up close, even, right, sugah?"
"Hell, yeah."
"She was asking me, Jubes."
"You had your chance."
"Whatever."
Hotboy - Jack - turns around at this very moment, looks right at the four of us with those gorgeous brown eyes and smiles. It's blinding. My eyes go wide with guilt at being caught and I turn to my right, towards the barbeque - and am mortified even further that all of us turned in the same direction, at the same time and we're all wearing the same expression.
And Logan and Sam are regarding us cautiously, as if we've done something wrong but they can't figure out what. My face feels like it's burning now. I thrust my plate forward and say, "My salmon, please," and look at the bricks on the barbeque pit like they're covered in hieroglyphics, and if I don't translate them in the next thirty seconds, the world will end. I give a quick glance sideways at the other three and note they seem to be helping me with my task.
Sam silently loads my plate and turns to give Jubilee her pork chop. It doesn't help when I look into Logan's eyes to ask for my corn and a small, knowing smile curls at the edges of his mouth. Damn. I don't know a hec of a lot about this guy - hey, even he doesn't seem to know who he is, if I understand Jubilee correctly - but I do know his senses are more heightened than most, and four young females have just had a hormone rush. I meet his gaze - startled to notice his eyes are a nice brown shade, too - and mutter, "What's a girl gotta do to get corn around here?"
He opens his mouth to say something but changes his mind and I watch his bare, muscular arm reach out with the tongs. He puts a cob of corn on my plate and smiles. It's blinding. Why am I suddenly noticing people's eyes and smiles and muscles and stuff? I've been at my computer too long again, I decide and calmly walk as far away from everyone else as I can without leaving the party. Three other people have the same idea and the Fabulous Foursome are now huddled near two lawn chairs, gaping at one another and incapable, it would seem, of figuring out what to do so we can all sit down. I drop to the grass without spilling anything and make myself comfortable. Siryn joins me, leaving Jubilee and Rogue to take the chairs.
"You've been at the computer too long," Jubilee tells me, sitting down and balancing her plate on her lap. She starts cutting into her chop.
"You were blushing like a beacon, too," I say, breaking my salmon up with my fork. "What's your excuse?"
"Ah wish ah could wear somethin' really nice," Rogue says wistfully. I know her name is 'Marie', but I haven't been given permission to call her that yet. Only a few people use it. She seems to need a boost, so I'm nice and give her one.
"Rogue," I begin, swallowing my first bite of salmon. "You tend to wear tight clothes that cover every inch of you, like the little green number you're wearing now. There's something appealing in that to a guy. For starters, it hugs all your curves. For seconders, guys can use their imaginations and picture themselves undressing you. You might not dress girly like Amara over there -" I wave my fork briefly in the blonde's general direction "- but you can be sexy regardless."
Three pairs of eyes are looking at me like I have two heads.
"What?" I ask, taking a mouthful of couscous.
"Where do you get that stuff?"
"I pay attention to everything, Jubes. You should know that by now."
"What happened to Frumpy Sweater Kitty?"
She says it quietly and her face flushes when she realizes she said it out loud. Frumpy Sweater Kitty. Wallflower Kitty. Geeky Kitty. Here, KittyKittyKitty…
I guess I was a bit shy when I first came to Xavier's, and being a brain can get you labelled as having no personality or social life. Being heavily into computers is even worse. People know I'm not one dimensional, but I guess Kitty Pryde talking about methods of attraction for the opposite sex isn't something they expect. Knowing the answer to a difficult Calculus question? Sure. Remembering how to take apart a car engine and repair it when you break down at the roadside, in the middle of nowhere? Sure. Fixing the frozen computer screen and rescuing someone's homework? Sure. Scoring high on a Danger Room program and rescuing the Mannequinov family? Well, some people know about that, but such activities aren't common knowledge.
Sex and Kitty Pryde? I'm not Sarah Jessica Parker, nor do I want to be.
"Uh, I mean -"
"Who are you, anyway? And what have you done with my friend?" I say it jokingly, letting her know it's okay. She smiles, grateful.
"Yeah, that's it. Like 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' or something."
"Hey, I might be quiet sometimes, but I'm not blind, deaf or dumb." I eat some Caesar salad. It's delicious and I decide to get some more when my plate is empty. I shrug. "I notice stuff. Besides," I wink, "it's too hot for frumpy sweaters."
We continue to eat in silence, still a bit awkward after Jubilee's comment. I look around the garden. Russell is chatting with Dani, who is taller than he is, and Peter, who is much taller than he is, and they seem to be getting along well. Ray and Blink and Ms. Munroe are at the pool with Rahne and Xi'an. Good to see they aren't being left out. Mr. Summers and Dr. McCoy are talking with Angie and Keisha and Amara, though Amara seems to be listening more than actually participating. Maybe she doesn't understand English very well. Roberto and Hot - Jack - are laughing with Mr. Wagner and Professor Xavier about something. Bobby is over at the barbeque with Logan and Sam, who are finally feeding themselves. They start for the buffet under the porch as I watch, trying to ignore how gracefully Logan moves. Some of the younger kids descend on the Professor, begging to have permission to go into the pool.
"Not yet," he tells them in his smooth British accent. "You have to wait an hour after eating before you can swim."
"Awww!" This from Alison, who loves swimming and is just learning how to dive without doing a bellyflop. She looks at the grass when she thinks he'll be angry with her. He is wiser than that, little one. The Professor looks at me just then - I don't know why - and says to the group, "You can go swimming at seven-thirty, and I think we can extend lights out tonight so you can stay up until eleven."
"Whoo-hoo!" several of them cheer, including Pietro and Wanda, ever the exuberant twins, who do a double high-five with one another. Pietro blurs from the garden and into the mansion, leaving the door to the recreation room intact and on its hinges. No doubt, he'll be back in a few seconds, sporting his latest, bizarre swim trunks. Alison glows faintly as she absorbs the sound of happy kids and turns it into light, and hugs the distinguished gentleman in the wheelchair. I hope the Mundanes won't notice. Pietro returns, as predicted, thoughtfully bringing his sister's suit and towel with him. Today, his gear is silver.
"Oh no."
We look at Siryn and follow her gaze. Roberto and Hot - Jack - are coming over to our little group. They both look comfortable in the skin they're in, as it were; confident and relaxed. I realize Roberto has a primitive sun design on his t-shirt and that Jack has the words 'I'm not here' on his. His shorts, I note, are loose at the waist and riding a bit low, showing all who care to see that he wears boxers, not briefs, and that his are currently red plaid.