Disclaimer: Did you really think I would own something by this chapter? I don't have that kind of money.
Jean crossed the parking lot of the Bowl-O-Rama with Scott Summers. She couldn't believe he talked her into going bowling this afternoon. Almost equally unbelievable was how old the bowling alley was. It seemed unchanged from when it was built, ugly carpeting and orange walls. Scott had ordered a game and had begun on shoe sizes. "One size twelve and one," he looked questioningly at Jean. "A women's size seven," she supplied. Jean balked at the rental shoes. "You can't expect me to actually wear these she hissed," as they walked to lane five.
"Sure do," he told her, testing out bowling balls as he walked.
"But, they're... clown shoes," she told him.
"Oh, yeah? And what do you call these?" Scott raised his own pair of two-toned avocado and gold shoes.
"Ugly," she replied, trying to convince herself that her own pair of red and gold weren't that bad.
"Does it really matter what they look like," Scott asked. "They're just shoes...ones that'll slide on the wood floor...just make sure you don't step on the greased lane," he laughed, "did that once and landed flat on my back...it was purely accidental."
"Sure it was."
Upon reaching lane five they sat down and put on their respective clown shoes. Scott quickly tied his and walked over to a small desk. "Should I put you down as one or two?"
"Um..."Jean glanced over, "Oh, you've got to be kidding. They don't have automatic scorers?"
"Nope," Scott shook his head. "I'll just put you down as one, I guess..."
"But, I don't know how to keep score."
"I do," Scott responded, " I can teach you how if you like."
"Fine," Jean sighed. "So, I'm first, huh?"
Scott nodded, getting up to join Jean in finding the proper ball.
Scott watched Jean intently as she picked up her bright green ball, leaving his florescent pink one in the ball return. They were midway through their second game and Scott was beginning to doubt that Jean did much bowling at home. More often than not her throws ended up in the gutter. "Y'know," he told her, "It's still not too late to pull down the bumpers."
She shot him a glare. "I don't need bumpers. Besides, I think I'm getting better." Scott got up and began to walk over, "At least let me show you how to aim," he pleaded.
"Oh, I think I can aim fine by myself," Jean told him, motioning him back to his seat. She smirked before widening her stance and taking a potty shot down the middle of the lane. Jean watched with satisfaction as the ball glided down the lane but quickly became worried as it veered left. "No," she said, giving a frustrated wave. "Aw, man! Straight in the gutter," she exclaimed. And then she heard it, a guy's disconnected voice saying She's so cute when she gets all upset.
Jean whipped around and saw a very surprised Scott. Oh, shit I think she heard me... "Yes, Mr. Summers, I heard that."
"Look," Scott said, cheeks burning, "can we just forget I thought that?"
Jean shook her head. " I don't think I can. It's stuck in there."
"Oh, come on. It's not my fault you're telepathic," he exclaimed.
Jean turned hostile, "Well, maybe you should learn not to project so loud."
"Maybe you should stop prying into other people's thoughts."
"I don't pry," Jean shot back.
"Could have fooled me," he returned.
"Let's just go home," she told him, cringing inwardly at the use of home to describe the Institute.
"Fine," he snapped, sliding off his bowling shoes.
Jean forced her tears back as the two walked back to the Institute in silence. She hadn't meant to hear him. In fact she wished she hadn't. There'd always be that small part in her head telling her he couldn't just be a friend. If someone as open as Scott could get offended for something mentally overheard what about the rest of the world? Jean scuffed her feet on the sidewalk, trying her best not to do any more prying, no matter how much she wanted to know what he was thinking she remembered the Professor telling her that they don't read each other's minds. So she kept her mouth and mental ear shut, trying to work up the courage to apologize.
Scott was buried in thoughts of his own. He hadn't meant to think that, it just happened. He really hoped Jean didn't think he was just another guy with thoughts on just one thing. It wasn't that he didn't think about that but it definitely wasn't at the top of his list of things he normally thought about. Why did she take it so personal, he wondered. A guy can think a person's cute without it meaning anything, right? He glanced over at Jean who seemed miserable on all counts. "Look, I'm sorry," he blurted. "I shouldn't have...it's just...you are cute, when you're all upset that is. Not that you're not normally cute but you should have seen yourself waving and whispering at that ball."
Jean's lips curled into a smile. "You think I'm cute?"
Scott came to a halt. Was this some kind of trick question? "I just said so...didn't I?"
She nodded. "Just checking," she said, "because with all that mumbling and stuttering I wasn't quite sure what you were saying...but you were very cute doing it."
He crossed his arms, "Oh, you think so, huh?"
"Yeah, Shades, I do." She watched with glee as he once more turned a shade of red.
"So, everything's forgiven? Put it behind us," he questioned.
"Yeah," she answered.
When they returned to the Institute Jean sighed, giving Scott her regrets at not joining him for some TV time. She had something more important to do. Jean walked down the hall and into the Professor's study. "Sorry, for interrupting," she said, noticing Ms. Monroe and some man she had never seen before, "I just wanted to talk to you about...something."
"You did some mind reading today."
Jean started upon hearing his assessment. "How did you know?"
"Scott projects rather loudly, doesn't he?" Xavier smiled, " I heard him on your walk home, berating himself for upsetting you."
"Oh," Jean mumbled.
"I think," he continued, "that it might be time for us to start working on your mental shields."
"Really," she exclaimed.
He nodded, "Really. You've had suitable time to settle in, and with comfort comes the ability to calm down enough to gain control. I'll see you tonight one half hour after dinner. Now if you don't mind I have some more to discuss with Ororo and Logan."
"Oh, of course," Jean had forgotten for a moment that the two others were in the room. She hurried out of the room, stopping only to take one second glance at the wild-looking man. So, that was the friend Ms. Monroe was bringing back with her. He looked tough.
Jean was so excited she ran down the hall to tell Scott. She didn't quite have a reason why Scott would be excited for her, but he had been pretty supportive the entire week since her arrival, so she figured it couldn't hurt. "Scott," she blurted as she burst through the door to the TV room, "guess what."
"Aliens have landed and the only thing that can kill them is your ability to get a gutter ball?"
"No," Jean grinned. " Professor Xavier thinks I can start working on controlling my powers! I mean, think, I've been here a week and he's finally decided we can work on them. I thought at the rate he was going we wouldn't get around to it for another month but we're working on my telepathy tonight! If I learn really fast I might really be able to go home by fall. My parents will take me back, I won't be a freak anymore...I'll be normal...well, mostly normal...Scott?" She noticed the boy's face change from alight with interest to closed off, distant. "Isn't that great," she tested.
"Yeah, great," he said, but she didn't believe him.
"Are...you alright," she asked.
"Fine," he snapped. "That's great that you'll get to go home in the fall. Wonderful."
"What's got you," Jean asked.
"Nothing," he lied, she knew it was a lie by his body language, his tone of voice. "Everything's great. The only person in this dumb place my own age is going to be 'cured' by the end of summer. Peachy."
"Oh, Scott, I didn't mean...I was just so excited I didn't think before I spoke. I forgot you can't..."
"Can't control mine? Yeah, I know how easy it is to forget that." His voice was clipped, as he quickly flipped through television stations.
"Can't leave," she finished, recalling that Scott didn't have a family to go home to. The Institute was his family, always would be. "Guess what else," she asked.
"Pigs are flying out of my ears," he tartly replied.
"No, the Professor's friend is here. His name's Logan."
This statement perked Scott up. "You saw the guy," he asked. "What...what's he like?"
"Scary," she supplied, happy to see the excited Scott she had come to know. "Shorter than you I suspect, bluish black hair...he doesn't seem at all fun, Scott."
"Well, he's not here to make us have fun, he's here to train us for...I don't know, the apocalypse. Wonder if he'll end up joining us for dinner."
"Why wouldn't he?"
"Sometimes the Professor's friends choose not to. Couple years ago this gray haired man showed up, spent hours in the Professor's study yelling about all sorts of mutant-related stuff, called him a fool and left."
"Who was it," Jean asked.
"Not a clue," Scott told her.
"Hmm." How strange, Jean thought before snatching the remote out of Scott's hands. " What Not to Wear is on, if we change the station now we might still catch the person before they become un-frumpified."
Scott just shook his head. "Whatever you say, not like there's really anything on anyways."
Jean smiled, putting in the proper numbers before settling into the couch and pushing any thoughts of Xavier's friends or telepathy classes out of her head.