Author's Notes: This chapter took a bit longer to churn out as I had a bunch of random crap to take care of, so hopefully this will make up for it. It's the longest yet, at a ridiculously lengthy ten pages, but there was a lot to fit in there, so it's worth it. I managed to find time to finish this segment in between running about and listening to that stupidly addictive, catchy 'Snakes on a Plane (bring it)' song. I even considered christening this chapter after it, but that's just ludicrous. And the song is ZOMG pointless. Anyway, thanks again to those who reviewed, I really do appreciate it and yes, it really does help. Enjoy the chapter and PLEASE review, thank you!

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah Marvel and FOX blah blahblahblabhlabhlabhlabkabablablablrgrglsg.

"But it's different now that I'm poor and ageing
I'll never see this face again
You'll go stabbing yourself in the neck

And we can find new ways of living make playing only logical harm
And we can top the old times play making that nothing else will change

But she can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad."
-Interpol, 'Obstacle 1'

Chapter 7- 'Map of the Problematique'

My jaw hit the tiled floor. What I was looking at had to be the largest pool I'd ever witnessed first hand. Ever. It was enormous, I could have fit three of my old high school's pools in there easily, with room to spare. High school. Pool. It was at that recollection that I shrank back in horror, my eyes going wide with trepidation.

"Professor Munroe, I really don't think-"

She put a steadying hand on my arm, the rich color of her skin framed by the pallor of my own, rooting me to the spot as I listened to my heart hammering away in my ears, giving her words a bit of a techno remix quality as she spoke. "This isn't like the last time, Adrian. There is no anger here, nor is there anyone to goad you into acting as such. This is a place of peace, somewhere you might hone your skills, harness your gift. The Professor thought this might be the perfect place to begin your training."

The Professor must really get off on giving a good guilt trip then, because if this doesn't bring back memories, I don't know what does. I stand there silent for a moment before speaking, gazing into the depths of the pool. "We were just talking, Maggie and I, when they circled around us after fifth period. Jeffrey, he was this jackass who had a thing for her, him and his buddies, they decided to make their advance. They knew she felt nothing for him, they were just being juvenile, but somehow it got out of hand and one of them pulled out a knife to show off, waving it around like it was a goddamn candy cane. I got so angry, I was so scared that they were going to hurt her, and then- then I sort of blanked out. The next thing I can remember is the lot of us drenched in the principal's office and the police department questioning people."

My eyes fall to rest on my worn sneakers. I don't know why I've told her this, I've barely known her ten minutes and already I've divulged my darkest secret. This is something I haven't even told Logan or the Professor, for chrissakes, my very reason for fleeing my home and taking a crapshoot of a ride cross country in hopes that my life might become something better. That lone incident is the entirety of why I abandoned Adrian Mills Version 1.0 and settled for an upgrade, although at the moment it's looking slightly half-assed and rather panicked. Gentle, firm hands turn me about and I lift my gaze to meet her sturdier one, eyes locking.

"That must have been very traumatic for you, Adrian, and I am sorry. Yet you must understand that the very reason your training is so important is so that something like that will never happen to you again. By mastering your gift and learning control you'll not only be aiding yourself, but the others around you. You don't have to be afraid." She gives me a smile, soothing the memories into the back of my mind with the stern tranquility in her tone. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, why don't we try and see what you can do with this, hm?" She motions to the pool before us and I grin, thankful for her support.

"You have an amazing gift, Adrian. Water is the very foundation of life, it creates and sustains, and it's molded much of the very world we live in today. Yet for all of that we should not seek to underestimate it, just as one does not turn his back to the ocean. Water can be a powerful force, it weakens and erodes with such a patience that it catches many by surprise. It can be a subtle stream or a squall fit to tear the seas apart, and it lies within us all. Concentrate, Adrian. Sense the water around you."

I allow her words to sink in for a moment, marveling as they saturate my mind with the calm power behind them. I close my eyes, breathing even and deep for a few minutes before focusing upon the liquid nearby, the most obvious source of which is the grand pool beside me. It almost appears stagnant to the naked eye, save the jets that filter water in and out, their small currents making themselves know to my person the further I look. I can feel the water flowing in the pipes, pressure shuttling it about the school to its various destinations. It's a familiar, comforting weight in my mind. And something else, something almost intangible lurking in the corner of my mind's eye. I try to grasp hold of it, but my attention falters and I snap my eyes open, the even gray-blue of my irises uniting with the clear chlorine body of water before me. Without warning I lift a hand, beckoning towards the swimming pool and, much to my surprise, the crest of a wave rises up to meet me, standing at my height, almost mimicking me in it's stance. A brief twist of my palm and I could make Michelangelo blush for now it is I who has become the master sculptor. The woman beside me lets out a small laugh, noticing herself in liquid form, proud head tilted upward, hands on her hips.

Slowly I let it sink back into the mass from whence it came before I make her shoot out into the air, flying about the vast room, my brow furrowed in concentration. It took so much thought to achieve this, the graceful arc of the water, the form of my floating mentor. Less than a minute later I set her back into the water, almost shaking with the effort, fully submerging her as her model smiled at me. "Well done Adrian, that's quite a display for having had such little usage of your powers previously. Are you up for any more?"

I nodded, shaking my head to clear it. For a moment all my hearing felt muffled, as if I'd stuck my head into the pool and had her shout at me. It was an interesting sensation, one likely brought on by my little effort back there, but there's no way I'm going to stop now. If anything, I'd rather attempt something more ostentatious, far more stupid and showy; I want to do the hot pink, sequins dress of my powers for the evening. "Professor, might I try something? I have an idea that pleases me."

Professor Munroe nods her permission and I sigh, gathering my thoughts. I kneel down and remove my sneakers, noting her puzzled expression as I do thus. With a small smile I stand and walk forward, teetering at the lip of the pool but a moment before stepping off and into the water. Or, rather, onto it. With mild fascination, I grin widely, throwing my arms out and leaping into the air. "Holy shit, I'm Jesus!"

Whether or not Professor Munroe hears the profanity and cares is completely beyond the point. I can walk on water. I can fucking dance on it and have it support me, doing little more than wetting the bottom of my feet. I feel like a god, I'm Poseidon with boobs. Nothing could kill this for me, this sweeping feeling of success that gives me a rush rivaling any spike to the vein. I want to show it to the world, shout it off the highest mountain, though at this rate the idea of creating a huge, stationary tidal wave and doing it off of there is more appealing. Thoughts rush through my mind at a breakneck pace; if I can do this, what other things can I control? I could make Bobby's water spill onto his pants if he starts talking too much again, paying Logan back for giving the professor giggle material on me would be a piece of cake, and getting Prometheus for mediocre conversation would be so simple it would feel like tying my own shoelaces.
At this last thought though, my concentration falters. I can almost hear all three of the aforementioned laughing hysterically at me as I plunge into the pool, sinking in my clothing. Silently I curse them and will my mind to cooperate for me again, if for one last time this evening. Honestly, I was doing so well too. The water parts, giving me a clear path down the center of the pool to the nearest ladder, which I shuffle towards and climb exhaustedly; whatever euphoria I'd gained at the discovery of my abilities it appears I lost after my little swim session. Professor Munroe watches me as I stand, trying to conceal a small grin at my current state. "I guess Christianity's still pretty keen on the smiting business, then," I grumble, walking back over to my dry pair of shoes with an unamused expression planted on my face.

"You've done well for your first lesson Adrian, and I'm certain you will learn and benefit from your experiences. Curfew is at ten o'clock, you're welcome to do as you like until then. Goodnight." With that the Weather Witch leaves me in my state, exiting the room as gracefully as she entered it. Knowing that I'll be leaving it in a decidedly worse state I attempt to ring myself out, giving up after a few futile moments and settling for whatever ridicule I'm bound to face in the halls back up to the dorm. I pick up my shoes and leave the gym, too tired at the moment to really give too much thought to the whispers of a group of younger students coming back from the library. It's only when I see a familiar silhouette that I actually put any thought into my movements, hurrying along and narrowly avoiding slipping and falling on the hardwood floor. "Logan!"

The man in front of me turns and can do naught but raise an eyebrow at my presence. "You get into a fight with the damn fountain, kid?"

I chuckle despite myself. "Something like that. I just had my first lesson and I sort of lost control at the end. On the brighter side of the spectrum, though, I've learned that Jesus doesn't have shit on me, it's pretty cool."

"Not bad kid. Your first day here and you're already tearin' the place up." He seems to approve, something I'm quite happy with. Everyone else in here could damn me but this man was the one person I trusted enough to rely on, and if that doesn't mean everything than there's nothing but emptiness to be found in the world. "You should get some rest though," he adds, noting the fatigue that seems to have draped itself over my shoulders like an expensive mink coat, sans the elegance. And the dead animal. "You'll be training in my class tomorrow, and I'm not going to go easy on you."

I stifle a yawn. Good god, it's not even nine o'clock yet and I'm officially done for the evening, this is so lame. "I wouldn't expect you to, Chops, you're not exactly a pushover."

"I may be a lot of things, kid," he grins, "but that's definitely one thing I'm not. Goodnight, Mills."

"Night Logan, see you tomorrow." I turn back around with a small wave and a complimentary smile, heading up a staircase and making my way down the hall, soaked and somewhat lost. It wasn't until I felt someone take my arm and steer me that I found familiar ground. Looking to my left I was somewhat startled to find Kitty smiling back at me. Seeming to sense my utter befuddlement she looked up at me. "It's fairly easy to do this sort of thing when you can phase through most solid forms of matter."

Cue understanding. "Oh, yeah, I suppose that'd be pretty useful-" I pause as we walk through our door. Not through the doorway, as I've done every single door-crossing moment of my life, but directly through the wooden slab of a door and into the room. Needless to say I'm a little awed by the whole thing, speech failing me past the "Wow, thanks" bit. Recalling my sodden state as Kitty wipes her hands on her jeans, I pick up my backpack and go into the restroom, changing out of my cold, damp things as quickly as I'm able. I curse briefly when the scarf gets tangled around itself, forming a veritable noose around my neck but I weather through it and finally throw it off me, no longer caring whether the bruises were exposed or not; at this point the only thing I give a fuck about is sleeping for the next ten and a half hours. Preferably with as little interruption as possible. Noting the sudden burst of loud chatter within the room, though, I know I'll have no such luck. Taking a deep breath, I pick up my wet clothes off the floor and go out into the main room, awaiting my fate at the hands of a small girl in a yellow raincoat.

"Ah, there you are! How'd training with Storm go?" Jubilee hardly gives me a moment to clear the doorframe before the questions come erupting from her, bubbling out like so many soap suds from an over-loaded washer.

"Storm?" I blink in confusion, pausing momentarily in my gait to give her a quizzical look.

"All the teachers have them, they're code names for when they're the X-men or something," Kitty clarifies, earning a raised eyebrow from myself.

"The what?" I understand Professor Munroe's little nickname, it's rather cute considering her power, though it's still fucking ridiculous in my book. "What the hell is an X-man?"

"Geez, chica, you ever read the paper back in LA? I used to live out there, and I knew who they were. I used to watch them on the news in the mall," Jubilee tells me, putting some textbooks on her desk. "They're like super heroes, or something. I don't know, they're pretty secretive about what they do when they're in school."

"Logan never told ya?" Rogue draws my attention to where she sits on her bed, near the other side of the room. "He's one of 'em. Well, whenever he's around, if that says anythin'."

I frown in my puzzlement, going to drop my dirty laundry at the foot of my bed, into a hamper that someone must have put there whilst Bobby, Rogue and I traipsed about the campus. "Logan's a super hero? That's, well, um, I suppose that explains the bit about him saving you from that Magnet guy."

"Magneto," Jubilee corrects, taking off her jacket. "He never told you anything during the drive over? Well, then again, seeing his little alias, I can't say I would have mentioned it either."

Kitty snickers. "Doesn't it stand for 'skunk bear' or something?"

Rogue sends her a look that borders on dirty. "There's nothin' funny about a name like 'Wolverine' when ya see him put those claws a his to use, Kitty Pryde, and don't ya forget it. "

I eye the three of them almost suspiciously, in slight disbelief of the conversation going on around me. Logan, the rugged, gruff man in jeans and a leather jacket who had picked me up in an alleyway back in Los Angeles, a super hero? Some guy who ran about in spandex and a cape making the world a safer place? Helping old ladies cross the street and stopping bank robberies on routine? I wanted to laugh. This was simply beyond surreal. Then again, so was a school with a population consisting entirely of mutant youth. "You said his name is Wolverine?"

Rogue nodded. "It was the name they gave him."

When she says that I need no explanation, I know the people she's talking about and it makes my hackles raise. Weapon X, the sick fucks who made him what he is, it's only fitting that they gave him some shitty nickname to go along with it. I'm almost surprised at the defensive jolt that goes through me, the undercurrent of fear present within it. Logan helped me when I had no one else, and I'll never forget that, nor shall I ever value someone so greatly as him. It's the same thing that got me into trouble with Maggie, the same overprotective surge that caused me to blow a hole in the wall of the gymnasium that fateful afternoon a week ago and I bite my cheek to keep myself in check. Control, "Storm" told me to remember control. "Sounds positively adorable," I mutter, sitting on my bed and grabbing a hairbrush from inside my backpack, brushing out the wet locks of brown hair while the others continued talking.

"You think his is funny, holy crap, they're all bad," Jubilee giggled. "Professor Summers is Cyclops-"

"Dr. Grey is Marvel Girl!" Kitty burst into laughter. "How can anyone say that seriously? I mean, really, that's the lamest one, it takes the cake. She sounds like a cartoon that should be on TV on Saturday mornings."

Rogue eyed them critically, though amused by their antics. "And ya think ya could do better for yourselves?" I stood, opening my backpack and getting my clothes out, putting them into my dresser along with the other meager possessions I'd taken with me. They continued on with their chatter as I pondered wearily how to let them know I was going to retire for the evening, not wanting to be the proverbial- and almost literal- wet blanket of the evening.

"Definitely!" The Asian girl took off her coat, throwing it on the back of her chair. "I'd just use my own name, it's pretty flashy as it is, and it'd sound damn cool."

Kitty pondered for a moment. "Yeah, I could think of something way less lame than Cyclops. I mean, god, just because he teaches us Literature doesn't mean he has to throw Homer in our faces every chance he gets. I think Shadowcat is pretty cool, don't you?"

"Sounds about as classy as Storm," Rogue chuckled, taking her shoes off. "Ah think ah'll stick with Rogue, if it suits all o' ya."

"You came in here with a damn super hero name, it's not fair," Kitty pouted with a rather feline stretch, arching her back. "What about you Adrian, got any cool X-Men names filed away and ready for use?"

I snorted, shutting a drawer and placing my now empty backpack down beside the dresser. "No, I can't say that I do. Saving the world hasn't really been on the top of my To-do list as of late."

"Ooo! We'll help you think of one!" Jubilee sprang into action, rubbing her chin like some sort of comical super genius. I didn't even want to think about which corny movie she was probably pantomiming, subconsciously or otherwise. "Hm… well, your power is water, right? So… er, well, Poseidon wouldn't work, you're a girl… um, Aqua? Aquarius?"

I let out a bark of laughter. "Might as well let Johnny Boy have his way then and name me Brita. If I get stuck with some stupid astrological sign as my name or I wind up sounding like a bad Danish pop band I'd better start considering suicide in order to save my family honor."

Kitty chortled. "Oh my god, we could call you Hose. Or Sprinkler! Rain?" She broke into outright laughter and I joined her, imagining the outrageous titles combined with a flamboyant costume and the theme music to the original, live-action Batman TV show.

"That's fucking brilliant. You guys can call me up when you need your plants to be watered, and I'll come flying out of the sky with some dorky theme music playing, it'll be spectacular." I stopped for a moment, sitting on the edge of my new bed. "So, does everyone here want to become an X-man, or is it sort of some elite thing the teachers just get to prance around and do on their off-days?"

Rogue smiled at me and shrugged. "It's mainly just the teachers, though Piotr's helped them out a few times before when they've needed him. It's sort of an unspoken thing here though, a lotta kids here wanna do their part to help out."

Understandably so, considering the current political climate, the worldwide feeling towards our kind. We're the outcasts among outcasts, I'd imagine that lepers might have it better in terms of compassion and sympathy. It makes for interesting thought material as I find myself almost dozing off where I sit. I snap up, hearing Rogue address me again. "Ya should get some sleep, Adrian, you've probably had a really long day 'n all drivin' here and gettin' adjusted. We won't be far behind, so don't worry about it. Besides, tomorrow's yer first day at Mutant High, ya'll need all the rest ya can get."

I give my three roommates a tired, grateful smile, crawling under the covers. "Thanks, I really appreciate it. And it was awesome meeting you guys today, I really appreciate your kindness, introducing me to all your friends and showing me around, it really means a lot to me."

"Don't even worry about it chica," Jubilee assures me with a beaming grin. At this point I almost wonder if she ever sleeps, she seems to be perpetually wired. Drowsily I wonder what coffee she drinks.

"Yeah, seriously, you look beat, get some rest," Kitty agrees. "Goodnight, we'll wake you up tomorrow."

"All right, thanks you guys," I snuggle my head down into the pillow, pleased at how soft it is. This is the first real, true bed I've slept on in ages, and the response is immediate; I'm asleep before I can even tell them goodnight. Of course, it doesn't last long, or rather, not nearly long enough before I'm woken by someone shaking my shoulder lightly, telling me it's time to get up and shower for breakfast. Trying to rid myself of the stupor of sleep, I shuffle into the bathroom blearily and close the door, setting about getting myself ready, turning on the shower and stepping inside. I feel like a little kid again, getting shuttled off for my first day of school, even though I know that's complete bullshit. I'm going to be a senior next year, this stuff isn't totally beyond me. And yet I can feel the nervous awareness prickling me into attentiveness as I step out of the shower, the warm water having soothed my limbs into a more mobile state. Toweling dry, I wrap the cloth around my body and open the door, almost getting barreled over by Jubilee who rushes in to use the mirror.

"Sorry chica, I need to put my face on! I'll only be a little while."

"Pfft, she says that every morning," Kitty grumbles, shrugging on a pastel colored tee shirt. "And every morning we're proven that she's lying. Hurry up, Jubes! Some other people have to use the mirror too!"

Now this, this is high school. Girls fighting over the mirror space, reassuring one another that, yes, their outfits are to die for and no, that pair of shoes really doesn't compliment the ensemble. It's so familiar I'm almost thrown for a moment as I change into my clothes quickly, throwing on the pair of worn jeans from yesterday and a random, gray tee shirt. Rummaging through the drawer I find another scarf, an opposing black and white pattern, and swiftly wrap it around my neck. Granted, if they saw my markings last night I'm sure one of them, namely Jubilee, might have mentioned something, but I'm really not in the mood to explain myself for the four hundredth instance and it appears that I have little time to do so, brushing my hair out again, throwing it up into a clip while I stuff my feet into socks and shoes. We're a quartette of haste, the other three girls grabbing their textbooks while I barely have enough sense to pocket a pen and run down the hall with them towards the dining area. It's moments before we're in line, grabbing what we want to eat frantically and seating ourselves at the table from yesterday evening, Bobby and Piotr giving a cordial greeting while John mutters something resembling a "good morning" as he drowns himself in caffeine, clicking his lighter irritably.

"So, what time do classes start?" I ask with a bit of hesitation, watching as the three girls dig into their breakfasts with little time wasted. I feel almost as though I've stepped into an eating contest of sorts.

"Eight thirty, we've got about ten minutes before lectures," Bobby informs me with a perky grin. I want to tell him to defect to become a cheerleader, but my rational takes hold before I let the offensive suggestion tumble out of my mouth. Instead I take to spreading strawberry jelly on the piece of toast I've grabbed and surveying the room. It isn't until I feel Kitty nudge me on the shoulder that I realize I've spaced out. "Pardon me?"

"I was curious as to what your first class of the day was," Piotr repeated with a patient smile.

Awesome, the Jolly Russian Giant, my gorgeous David, thinks I'm slow. Pulling the schedule out of the back of my jeans, I examine it. "Science with Dr. Grey, apparently."

"Ah, excellent. Perhaps you might allow me to escort you there then?" Mayhap the Jolly Russian Giant thinks more of me, his accent rather inviting and his tonality congenial. Pleased for any excuse to spend any extra time with my real-life Michelangelo sculpture I nod. But before I can respond with a proper bit of thanks a voice cuts me off.

"Christ Piotr, you talk like you picked your English up reading Harlequin Romance novels," John mutters crossly, draining the rest of his coffee.

"John," Kitty speaks up, rolling her eyes, "the fact that you even know what those things are is just beyond sad. Do us all a favor and stop talking until you get your caffeine buzz, you'll thank me for it later."

I hid my amusement inside a glass of water, not wanting to appear too rude so early in the morning. Jubilee was far less subtle as she high-fived her friend across the table. Taking a bite out of my toast, I hummed along to myself, looking about the room at all the students. Despite his supposedly favored morning hours, there wasn't a glimpse of Logan to be had and I frowned slightly. Part of me was almost hoping he'd be there to wish me good luck or something, trivial as I know it sounds. While I'm sure it's beyond obvious, I'm still sort of surprised at just how attached to him I've become. And then, before I have time to sink too deeply into my thoughts, it's time for class. Nearly choking on my toast I brush myself off, walking with Piotr towards the door.

"Are you all right?" He asks, giving me an almost puzzled look as I thump my chest, nodding.

"Yeah, just crumbs getting lodged in places they shouldn't," I reassure him. Not that a person like Piotr really needs reassurance of any sort, let me make that understood. The man is built like a brick wall reinforced with titanium. We walk along in silence, the other students milling about like so many little mutant bees in a hive, scurrying to classes. There can't be more than a hundred students here, I realize, rather surprised at the small amount. Then again, it's to be expected when one's former graduating class was almost three thousand strong. I glace up at Piotr, towering over all as he walks, looking ever the solemn, sturdy guardian. Stopping by a room, he holds the door open for me and I hurry through, thanking him for his kindness. Finding two empty desks beside one another we sit down. A few other students shuffled in and I was almost awe-struck by how small the class size was bound to be, noting the handful of desks and chairs in the room. "Piotr? Do you have any paper I might be able to borrow for notes?"

Silent, he inclines his head, tearing a few pages out of his notebook. With a small smile he hands them to me and I glance at the first, little doodles outlining it rather jovially, caricatures being the main feature. I giggle at the sight of an ice-cube with arms and legs, aptly titled "Bobby". Watching my eyes wander, he realizes his error and snatches the paper back, handing me a clean sheet.

He hath only whetted my curiosity. "Those are pretty awesome; do you work in any other mediums?"

He seems surprised to hear this question and affirms. "I paint as well, oil and pastels, charcoal, anything I can get my hands on, really. I find it soothing, almost cathartic."

Now it's my turn to be surprised; David, ever the pupil, is now the artistic master. "That's fantastic; you've got a lot of talent, even in those little sketches. I hope you continue on with it, it suits you." Maggie was an artist, though of the more modern sort. I used to stay after school with her and watch her finish projects in the musty old art classroom, humming along in the lazy sunshine that filtered in through the windows. She was able to appreciate the more classic genera's as well, though, and therein I gained my own appreciation. Piotr was reminiscent of so much of that, in such a pure, unmarred form. It was exciting, not only for his aptitude, but for the realization that our mutations did not wholly define us as individuals. And while this might seem like a fairly easy thing to rationalize to others, I'm still coming to terms with all of this, the fact that, regardless of what I do, I'll have a label stuck to me the rest of my life. In Piotr I see the hope of us all becoming something more than just "mutants", and for this moment, he's my brief, shining glimpse of the future.

Naturally, of course, Dr. Grey takes this time to interrupt my epiphany and hand me my textbook. And the way the class goes onward for the next hour and a half, the entire thing feels like one long, arduous interruption. When we pack up our things I catch Piotr's eye, giving him a look. "That was horrifying."

He chuckles, hiding his grin as we exit. "It's, ah, it takes a bit to adjust to. Dr. Grey is not-"

"In the least bit interesting? Because honestly Piotr, that's the most boring discussion I've ever sat through in my entire life. She could have had us watching Roman Gladiators and it still would have been banal." And all I have to show for it is five pages of notes and a textbook that weighs more than my ass. "Where are you off to next?"

"Philosophy. You?"

"English. Thanks for showing me around, Piotr, I'll see you at lunch!" I wave him off and set about my search for the English classroom. Ten minutes later, the halls deserted save myself, I'm still looking for it. As an afterthought, perhaps instead of watching The Jolly Russian Giant's butt next time I'll ask him where the hell to go. There's a door to my right and, praying it to be the correct classroom, I open it. I know my prayers to be in vain, though, when I open it and find myself staring down a few brooms and a mop. Sighing in frustration, I walk down the hall a bit more, finding another door and opening it hesitantly, peeking inside.

"Miss Mills, you're late."

Shit.

Accepting my fate as the perpetual "new kid", I walk into the room and shut the door, finding a seat near the back of the small classroom. "I'm sorry sir, I got lost trying to find the room. I didn't mean to interrupt." And isn't that the truth, everyone in the room is gawking at me. I see Bobby up near the front, which is entirely expected, and Rogue beside him. Hearing a breath of laughter, I turn my head and see John. I have the distinct feeling that my face now resembles a very large, angry tomato.

"Miss Mills, I'm not sure if you've read any work by Joseph Campbell yet, but perhaps you'd care to tell us about the Hero's Quest?" He commands the classroom in khaki slacks and a turtle neck from beside a white board, odd bits of literary jargon written over it in precise, calculated lettering. He looks like an L.L. Bean catalogue with shades. I can see why Logan hates this guy, as he hasn't exactly come prancing over to my good side yet either. Nodding, I begin.

"The notion of the archetypal hero was coined by Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung, both of whom began comparing world mythologies and stories. In doing so they found that there were many similar themes that coincided, a time of events, so to speak, in the hero's life that arch with the story line. The circumstances of the hero's birth are often unusual and they usually leave their family to live with others. A catalyst of sorts occurs, typically a tragedy, and they go on a quest where they're likely to encounter supernatural help and find some sort of a weapon in order to aid themselves. The hero proves himself many times on his quest and-"

"Well done, Adrian, you'll be up to speed on this course in no time at all," Professor Summers interrupts, a pleased expression on his face. Well, fluffing my ego never hurt either. "Perhaps you'd be so kind as to lend your attentions to other students here who could use some… assistance." John snorts and I don't have to turn my head to know that he's being inadvertently addressed. Summers is out of his fucking Calvin Kline little mind if he thinks I'm spending more time with that lighter-clicking douche bag then I have to. "We're currently reading Beowulf and you'll all be working in small groups to complete assignments. Adrian, you can join John and Beatrice for the remainder of this unit." And with that he set us to our work, students pulling their desks into little trios, about four groups present in all. As I pushed mine towards John and Beatrice, a quiet girl who looked a year or so younger with short-cropped blond hair, I hoped that this unit only lasted until the end of class, at the latest.

It appeared John shared my sentiment. "This is bullshit."

"Pipe down, Prometheus, a little bit of old, Danish lyrical poetry isn't going to kill you," I grumbled, taking out a spare piece of paper from the stack Piotr had given me, intent upon meeting expectations. "Have either of you read the material?"

Beatrice nodded while John gave me a look that suggested I get my head examined. "Awesome. What part are we at? I read over it a while back when I was in middle school, so I should probably brush up on it."

"Great, you two can do all the brushing up you want, this is the lamest piece of crap I've ever read," John clicked his lighter shut with emphasis. Beatrice looked uncertain, feeling the tension within the group and I glared up from my paper.

"I sincerely hope, St. John," I said evenly, "that you intend upon completing your share of work while we're all together."

He smirked, sending me a cocky look. "And if I don't?"

"You'll be drinking toilet water for the next week, and don't think I won't manage it." Somehow I managed to bite back the "asshole" that wanted to attach itself to the end of my sentence, a small mercy indeed. This guy really knew how to push buttons.

His smirk disappeared. "You know, I'm pretty sick of your shit."

I leaned back in my chair, looking him over with a cool gaze. The coals of his eyes burned back at me as I spoke. "Then we have something we can agree on. I don't like having to deal with other people's inane crap, John, especially when it affects me. I'm not asking-"

"You're damn right you're not," he cut in angrily. "I don't like being ordered around, Mills, especially not by fucking holier-than-thou newbies who feel like they've gotta suck up to the professors."

Beatrice looked like she was going to cry at this point, but I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward over my desk, eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sweet cheeks. Now shut up and-"

A figure loomed over us and it was then that I realized myself. Professor Summers stood beside our desks, displeasure written upon his face just as discernibly and deliberately as the notes on the board. "John, Adrian, the Professor will be expecting you."

Mortification shot through me. The Professor. The Principal. I was being sent off to the principal's office like a naughty elementary school student. I must have the worst luck in the history of mankind. Grabbing my papers I nodded, apologizing softly for my rudeness. Keeping my head at an even level I stood, avoiding the eyes of Bobby and Rogue, walking swiftly to the door and out into the hallway. John was right behind me. My first day of school and I fucked it up, and I have some lighter-clicking jackass to thank for it. We glare at one another and continue silently down the hall.

-----