Mr. Sparrow's stories no longer had me at the edge of my seat anymore. All I could think of was them. Wanda and John Allerdyce.
Why did they wait so long to find me? Did they know about my powers? Did they have my powers?
... Did they know about what I did to my parents?
A sharp ringing brought me out of my trance and a blush stained my cheeks as everyone left to go to their next period. Screw gym. I want answers.
I picked up my bag and walked over to the teacher, his slightly curled hair shining a little in the flourescent lights.
"Um, Mr. Sparrow?" I didn't see any students rushing in. It's probably his free period.
"Do you know anything about Wanda and John Allerdyce?"
"Ah, an interesting story. The Scarlet Witch and Pyro."
I nodded. Sounds promising.
"The bloody eunuch and his insane bride." I snorted. He had a way with words, "None of them could make up their minds, no matter how famous they were. First the man was an insane Australian pyromaniac. In Australia." A bit of a given, "Then he was a student in that peaceful Xavier's place where all the hippies run off to, then he runs off to be a terrorist with the Brotherhood, then goes off the radar for awhile, and then tries to kill his own monkey boss before being arrested."
"Wow."
"And that woman. First she's a lab rat, then a renegade, then an outlaw with the Brotherhood of bloody Mutants, and then she joins the X-Men all high and mighty, and then she comes back to the Brotherhood not a week after with her tail between her bloody legs before going insane. Again. Then going to jail."
"Okay.. um, what?"
"You asked, love." I blushed at the whole 'love' bit and decided to ask more questions about my indecisive parents.
"Um, who's Xavier? What's the Brotherhood? Are the X-Men somehow related to Xavier and what do you mean lab rat?"
"Charles Xavier, still alive to this day. He's this rich bald man in a wheelchair who's taken it on as his duty to protect the unprotected, provide a home to the homeless, all with stock credits and inheritance. The man is a bloody saint. But deep inside his large mansion is a team of superheroes called the X-Men, who've brought it on themselves to wear full body leather suits and protect the world from evil, a fashion that's caught on like bad hair in the eighties. Only with more spandex and brighter colors, if possible." He shuttered, remembering the horrors of the eighties. Whatever they were.
"So, Wanda and John, they're... superheroes?"
"Well, not exactly superheroes, but part of the reason why there was such a drastic change in the world in the past twenty years. Them, the X-Men, and the Brotherhood of Mutants."
"The whatta what?"
"A bloody large group of supers headed by Magneto. John, Pyro, was actually second in command with Mystique following right behind."
"Who's Magneto? And Mystique?" My history teacher sighed.
"Mystique was a blue female shapeshifter, an assassin and spy all in one, the perfect terrorist. And undoubtfully loyal to Magneto's cause, but not Magneto himself."
"What was Magneto's cause?"
"Mutant superiority. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? He was scarred as a young boy, a Polish Jew imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp." I may not know anything about the Super history, but I knew about what humans have done to each other.
"That's awful. But wasn't that hundreds of years ago?"
"He's found ways of living for a long time." He said with a secretive smirk.
"So he's a jilted super?"
"Supers weren't loved like they are now. They were hated and feared, because they were strange and powerful. They didn't call them supers until recently. They were more fondly referred to as freaks or mutants. I mean, if you thought the only superheroes were in comics, and then you found out people could fly and really shoot lasers from their eyes, how would you react?"
"I'd think it'd be pretty awesome."
"Not everyone has your view. They were afraid the people with laser vision would burn them up and the people with super strength would crush them."
"Oh."
"Wanda and John, the Scarlet Witch and Pyro, are one of the few mutants who made a name for themselves in both glory and hatred."
"Wow."
"First John was in the X-Men after his parents burned down in flames, then when he was in his teenage years he joined the Brotherhood. After the incident in Alcatraz, all thought him dead until Wanda stopped him from killing her father.
"I'm not exactly sure how Wanda ended up with Magneto, but I think they found her while she was being experimented on by this foul man, Essex. I think that when he found out she was his daughter, he felt guilty for abandoning her and leaving her to whither up into the mess that she was. So he brainwashed her and implanted fake memories in her head to make her happier."
"That's horrible."
"That's life. Around that time a weak Pyro burst into their headquarters and tried to kill Magneto, who he blamed for his misfortune. Wanda, a powerful mutant, easily stopped him, but didn't kill him. Eventually, after a lot of meetings and soap opera like talks, the two fell in love.
"Magneto didn't like that, of course, and tried to stop it. Pyro still hated him, and what if the implanted memories weren't as strong as he thought?"
"They weren't, were they?"
"Nope, crumbled like a paper mache wall and Wanda hated him. The two loathed him in peace, or atleast tried to. The sparks and fire alerted the police and they were all arrested. But Wanda was pregnant. She was put in a special holding cell until she gave birth to her baby."
He walked behind his desk, taking out a dusty old frame with a white piece of paper inside the glass, "Here, I got this a few years back from an old witch. Just think the name and you'll get a picture." He blew on it and slowly lines started to appear, colors spilling onto the blank paper and forming into one of the most beautiful works of art she's ever seen.
I stared at the beautifully drawn picture, a woman who looked like she was in her teens with her hands glowing bright red, an angry expression on her face with black and red leather to only boost her intimidation factor. And a man, around her age, brown hair with bleached tips hanging in his face as fire shot out of his hand. He was dressed almost casually, in a grunge outfit that I always dreamed everyone could wear. Kind of like how Warren dressed.
But as I stared at them, I knew they weren't lying to me. I already knew they were telling the truth, but this was... This was more than proof. I saw myself in them.
My golden eyes shined brightly in John's face, my jaw and nose an exact replica of Wanda. My brown hair was from John, with Wanda's slight wave, my bony fingers from Wanda. Both of them were a little short compared to the blurred figures around them, but still lean. And Wanda's neck seemed to go on forever, just like mine when I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to see how far it could stretch. Which wasn't very far, since it was impossible to stretch a neck.
They were my parents, resembling me far more than when I would look at a picture of my old parents, wondering how gold eyes could come from icy blue and murky brown. How sharp and pointed could come from a square shaped and round face.
"What happened to the baby?"
Was it just luck that I landed in a house with parents that had powers? Did they know my biological parents?
"Who knows? If you ask my opinion, that Xavier man has it, trying to live as normal a life as it can under a false name. I know a couple of his students went off to live together, one or two pairs with children, but I'm thinking the little bugger was a pyro just like it's father. One couple died in an enormous fire in their own house. Who knows where it is now." He said it with a bit of wonder, probably hoping to discover who the baby was himself.
"Uh..." I'm tearing up a bit, aren't I? "I have to get to gym, it's Save the Citizen."
"Oh, right. Completely lost track of myself." He started scribbling on a yellow piece of paper. "If anyone gives you any trouble, just hand them this and blame it all on me, okay? I was talking to you about your latest report." He winked with a rogue grin.
"Thank you."
So the world wasn't always this stereotypical hellhole focused on bright colors and good and evil. "Mutants" were to regular folks as the Nazis were to the rest of the world. Hated and feared. Except they weren't evil. Were they? I don't remember this being in the History books. It's like they were trying to forget everything that happened and just shoved it aside. Like how people act happy with rainbow clouds when they feel like killing themselves.
Strange.
It's kinda cool, though, knowing that this living cheesy comic book is just one big giant lie.
I'm still a little messed up, I guess.
My mouth was nailed shut when I got to the gym, dressing up silently in the abandoned locker room and sneaking into the gym. Coach Boomer never took role, seeing as the whole school was crammed inside the enormous gym, and Save the Citizen didn't start yet because everyone didn't shut up yet.
I could vaguely see my "friends" giving me strange looks from rows and bleachers away as I sat next to quiet bus buddy who was mourning after the bleached boy who was laughing with a bunch of other guys about nothing.
"Be quiet!" Boomer yelled, stunning all the students into silence.
"Good. Stronghold! Thompson! Pick your partners!"
Who the heck was Thompson?
I saw Quinn throw both arms up and yell Molly's name before running off to get changed.
"Good luck." I said to quiet bus girl who smiled meekly before getting changed.
"Emily!" Will said desperately, apparently thinking my track record meant something when facing the bleached boy.
"Patriotic boy say what?" I yelled furiously, turning my head to glare at him. Glare # 5.2 to be exact. That was "I'm going to kill you and scream like a banshee while chopping you up with a butcher knife" glare. Glare # 5.1 was "I'm going to kill you and laugh insanely while chopping you up with a switchblade, shoving you in a blender, and hitting puree."
Glare 5.1 included a bit of a smirk.
"Perkins! Suit up!"
Ooh, I am going to kill Captain Patriotic-Pants.
I met up with Molly in the locker rooms, who was just finishing tying up her shoes and went into the supply closet with all the different armor.
Hmmm... Should I grab a bigger size for the chest piece compared to normal? I noticed that puberty was kicking in more than usual, even though I thought I was all done growing in eighth grade. I finished picking out the white fireproof/bulletproof/shatterproof/everythingproof armor pieces and noticed that Molly was still there, waiting for me with a little smile.
Aw, we're friends.
"So, Molly, what's your power?" Her eyes widened with a little surprise, probably shocked that I knew her name despite our lack of ever talking, and her smile widened a little.
"I make dreams."
I frowned. What the heck did that mean? Probably something hypnotic. Note to self: When in battlefield, do not look her in the eyes.
"Well, whatever that may mean, may the better fighter win, eh?"
She smiled and nodded a bit.
"Okay," I said, my armor locked into place, "Let's go kick each other's asses."
"So what's the game plan?" Will asked me when I met him on the arena.
"What the hell are you on? You're the one that picked me, I figured that you would have some idea of what we were going to do."
"Well, I would have picked Warren, but I figured that since you were the only one who's spoken to Thompson you would be a better match."
"Well, I'm glad that you have some ounce of strategy in your red, white, and blue colored mind, but me actually knowing what one of them can do ain't gonna help! Molly's some bad ass girl who's probably gonna beat us in the first five seconds. We're the heroes, right?"
He nodded silently.
"Okay, so we should probably focus on shutting Quinn up first, okay? If I get a little fire, then I might be able to surround him and drown out his voice while you fly up and get the stupid doll, okay?" We, or I, had my voice at a whisper, making sure our opponents couldn't hear us. We had five minutes before the timer would start, allowing us to prepare. Slightly.
"Great. You can make fire, right?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Are you nuts? I'm a pyrokinetic, not a flame thrower like Peace! Learn the terms! I don't make fire, I control it!"
"So how are we going to get fire?"
"How the hell should I know?"
The stereotypical American teenager cast a glance towards his best friend who was looking as antisocial and menacing as usual, if not more so. Even though he would never admit it, he knew that the hotheaded hero in training was a little angry that his lunch buddy hadn't so much as looked at him the moment the girl walked in late.
Maybe if he made dramatic hand gestures, Warren would light up a spark that could help them.
"Interpretive dance will not help matters, weirdo."
"I'm trying to get Warren to make a spark."
"Ah..." That would actually work. If he made a light, then I could make it fly through the air and over the everything proof glass separators. Ignoring the pathetic boy who resorted to jazz hands, I stared into the eyes of the chuckling fire maker and pointed to my hand in the place where he had his fire tattoos and then motioned towards him.
Ha, I beat Patriotic Boy with a minute to spare.
Warren flicked his hand, a small, barely noticeable fire on his fingertips and I smirked, making a grabbing motion in my hand and watching as it lept off his finger and hovered over my fingertips.
This is not pleasant. At all.
Right now, forced into the revelation that my parents weren't really my parents, looking at the small flame floating, flickering, all I could hear were screams twisting with a haunting melody. A lullaby my not-really mother would hum to me, words long forgotten before they ever reached my ears.
"Emily, stop humming! The game is about to start!"
I would tell him to call me by my last name, but I'm not even sure what it is anymore.
I saw the timer start on the board in that annoyingly red alarm clock fashion and motioned my wrist towards my opponents across the arena, surrounding Quinn in a blaze of fire (not close enough to burn him, of course. I'm not that cruel) before he could even open his mouth.
"Ha! Try and tell an inanimate object to stop!" I huffed, drowning out the memories that came with the mix of red and yellow and focusing on keeping it contained no matter what it wanted to do. Little freak couldn't tell me to kiss him now.
Since I was a brilliant strategist, I cast a glance to my other opponent and saw her eye glowing a cloudy white. Wasn't I telling myself not to look into her eyes before?
The screaming grew ten times louder and everything around me changed into a flaming inferno, familiar planks of wood falling around me. I couldn't put it in the back of my mind. I couldn't ignore my not-really parents. No- They were my parents, no matter what any blood tests would say, and right now they were dying.
"Mom?" I yelled, wondering if Molly had some magical time travelling powers, "Dad? Where are you!?"
I brushed away my unsinged hair and looked frantically around the house. My powers weren't working, the fire was too big, it wasn't obeying me. Why couldn't I control it? Where were they? Were they still searching for that little girl dancing with the flames, singing her mother's lullaby?
Was I too late?
I fell down onto my knees and sobbed into my hands. No matter how many years had gone by, the tears would never run out. I was just a stupid, sobbing mess of a wimpy girl who needed her mommy and daddy, no matter how tough I tried to act.
"Wake up..." A voice whispered, drenched in sadness, and my surroundings changed again. I was back inside the arena, the floor covered in flames. Stronghold was behind the glass with a shocked Quinn and a trembling Molly at either side, students crowding them, babying them, staring at me in fear.
I was on my knees, tears that were quickly dissolving in the fire still rushing down my cheeks. Must every single second of my life be filled with drama, fainting, and tears?
I scowled, wiping away any tears that thought they could stay on my face since they survived the heat of the fire. My hands touched the ground, fire licking my skin and burning off the dark blue nailpolish. Damn, that was my first manicure!
I closed my eyes and breathed in as I felt my body absorb the fire, once again pushing away the torturous screams that were solely reserved for good quality horror movies. I always had a thing for sensing where fire was at any moment, and sighed in relief when I managed to absorb all the fire. Then the sigh turned into a hiccup, a little smoke coming out of my mouth.
"And the heroes lose!" Coach Boomer said after a very long, very drawn out awkward pause that filled the whole stadium with whispers."Everyone, early dismissal."
Great, now I get to be bombarded by everyone at once instead of trying to cut class after changing in solitude.
I sent out Glare # 3.0, which meant "Come near me and die", and as I walked out of the arena the wave of students parted like the red sea. Except I wasn't as calm and collected as Moses. If I could make fire, my back would probably be steaming right now. In fact, from all the fire I absorbed, which I didn't know I could do, my back probably was steaming.
Nobody seemed to be heading for the locker rooms. Or atleast the girls weren't, probably too afraid I would roast their asses off.
"Emily?" The same sad, timid voice that woke me up from my nightmare, and caused it, rang out from behind me as I was ripping off the armor and cursing my singed clothing.
"Yeah?" I asked harshly, imagining her wince and rethink her actually speaking, "What do you want?" I tried to sound more gentle, despite some hidden violent side in me wanting to rethink my pyrophobia and take a leaf out of Peace's book.
"I'm so sorry about what happened," She gushed, seeming about ready to burst into tears, "I just picked up the dream that was closest to the surface. I thought you would start eating your hand like it was a giant marshmallow."
"Whatever," I muttered, dressing in my own clothes despite her being right behind me. Teenagers just have to deal with everyone seeing you half naked, "You didn't know. Not many people do. It was a competition, and it was your obligation to try and stop me at any costs."
"I'm still sorry about what happened to your parents."
My grip tightened on my jacket, the zipper digging in to my hand.
"Yeah. So am I."
"Who died?"
I rolled my eyes. The library was no longer safe.
Looking up, I saw the glowing face of the godly being Quinn. Note the sarcasm.
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, other than the rather scary display in Save the Citizen where you almost killed me, you've managed to further darken your already menacing wardrobe to just black, and your eye gunk-"
"Eye makeup-"
"Is twice as big and blacker then black. So I think something really shitty must've happened."
"Something shitty really did happen."
He looked at me expectantly, willing me to elaborate further.
"My dad isn't my dad. And my parents who were my parents before my dad aren't really related to me."
"You're adopted?" Was that the only thing he understood?
"I don't really know. But if I am, it makes me feel even worse being adopted twice than just once. I mean, they took me in, and I-" When did I start crying? God, I'm an emotional wreck. I fainted for the first time yesterday. Twice. And now I'm blubbering like a cartoon monkey. What kinda girl is that pathetic?
"Relax." A fuzzy relaxing wave washed over me before my undeniable anger brushed it off.
"Whoa, no initiating the fuzzy feelings when I'm sad! It's creepy." I shook my head and put back on my black jeep hat and matching sunglasses. As in black. I even traded my blue bag for my black one. How sad am I? "I'm out of here."
"Hey, wait a sec," He grabbed her arm, not using his powers for once, "I get what you're going through, I've been through thousands of foster homes. And no matter how grateful you try to be, you just can't stop hurting everyone around you."
"Let me guess, you made it a habit to hypnotize everyone?"
"Don't hate! I'm only just getting a handle on this whole power thing." I laughed at him holding his hands up in that 'I surrender!' pose. Hey, I smiled. "Hey, you smiled."
"I noticed."
The bell rang and I reached for my bag, a blush staining my cheeks at the realization that he, Quinn the blonde jerk, made me smile when I was trying pretty damn hard to be depressed.
"Thanks for the pep talk, Mr. Cool. I'll see you in Art."
"You know, if you want to talk, you could eat lunch with me. My friends meet in front of the school, but if you want we can go hide out back."
"You have friends?" I teased, knowing full well I wouldn't show up. I couldn't talk about it, I didn't even want to remember it.
"Yes. And by their choice."
"Don't get your hopes up, Simon. I plan on going off into my own little dreamworld for the rest of the day."
"Simon?"
"Yeah, like Simon says. It fits your powers perfectly, doesn't it?" He chuckled before getting a serious look in his eyes and leaning dangerously close to my face, "Whoa! Back off, Simon!" What was with him and trying to kiss me?
"You weren't feeling the moment?" He asked, looking kind of embarrassed.
"No! I thought you had Molly!"
"Well, she's nice, but..." He shrugged, looking around, his cheeks tinged with red.
"But what, Mr. Smoochy?"
He snorted a little at the nickname. Do not laugh at me, Mr. I-Go-Around-Trying-To-Kiss-Everyone-I-Can-Get-My-Hands-On-Regardless-Of-My-Powers!
"She's not you." His eyes were so adorable when he said that, with his scruffy white hair and adorable face. I would make a big 'aw' and pinch his cheeks if I weren't so sure that my face was bright red.
"Um, I have to go. To class." I mumbled before running away.
"Tisk tisk, Miss Perkins."
My eye twitched, ruining the calm of my Lotus Position. Ms. Wind, the yoga teacher in disguise as a 'Powers Development' teacher, didn't make the actual sound of tsking, but rather said the actual word, tisk. That annoyed me to no end.
"Yes, Ms. Wind?" I asked in an unbelievably sugary tone, preparing for glare # 1.2, which was "I'm going to kill you with a smile", a more cheery version of glare # 5.1 yet less extreme. This glare didn't care for the exposal of the body. It was that hardcore.
"I heard about you losing your control in Gym." She said with a smile, as if it was some silly mistake like tripping and accidentally sending a fire to scorch her "center", stupid hippie woman.
I'm a little violent when I'm stressed.
"That wasn't my fault." I growled.
"Regardless of who's 'fault'," She did sickening air quotes, "It was, I would prefer if you worked on your self-control in the corner, meditating separately from the rest of the class."
I stood up, composed myself, and walked to the corner of the room and did that upside down version of the criss cross apple sauce. Yes, that's what I call it.
Peace, quiet, tranquility. Peace, quiet, tranquility.
"And now do the three point stance, children. Find your center, feel the energy pulse through you."
This isn't working.
Screams broke out, along with the sound of explosions, and my eyes snapped open, seeing the ceiling lights explode with a red glow, sending white sparks everywhere.
"Children! Calmly exit the room!" Ms. Wind screamed, running out of the room with the rest of the class, me trailing behind a little to look at the sparking lights.
"What was the probability of that happening?" Asked a student as everyone spread out in the hallway.
Wanda could alter probability... Make anything happen...
"Hello, beautiful." A striped arm had in hand a single blue rose, a seemingly romantic gesture.
"I'm not in the mood, Stretch." I growled, walking past him and his pretty flower. It was probably fake, anyway.
"I overreacted yesterday. I shouldn't have tried to beat up Peace." Not exactly the heartfelt apology I was expecting. And he's in my way again, blocking the entrance to the library with his stretch arms.
"Like I said, I'm not in the mood."
"I pissed you off that much?"
"Well, I'm pissed at you, but something else came up and I'm really not in the mood. Now, can I please get past you so I can brood in peace?"
"Is this girl bothering you, Lash?" The mean senior with the pigtails came from nowhere, flocked with two clones of her by her side. Copper... something... I'm horrible with names.
"Other way around, smart one."
"What do you see in this freshman anyway?" The clone flocking her left scoffed.
"I'm one of the few who doesn't hate him for almost ruining everyone's lives in this school, yet does not throw myself at him. Like you probably do." I smiled sweetly and ducked as one of them jumped at me, watching as one of Lash's stretchy arms held back all three girls. Like a giant restricting blanket. And then I slipped inside the library.
Bless her heart... With evil Wiccan curses and damn her for eternity.
Maybe now I could have lunch in private.
And maybe I spoke too soon.
My purple adorned aquaintance sat on the chair in front of me, a semi-angry expression on her face.
"Warren's sad that you're avoiding him." Sad?
"What are you getting at, my magenta coated friend"
"Well, he didn't actually say it, but you can tell he's brooding at his little lunch table without you there. Just thought I'd come here and tell you."
"How did you know I'm here, anyway?"
"Because nobody in their right minds would go to a library unless they wanted to avoid someone."
"I'm not avoiding him." I'm avoiding everyone. And failing horribly at it.
"Right, and I don't spend half my time as a purple guinea pig."
"A very adorable guinea pig, though."
She sneered.
"I'm going to ignore that and not beat you up if you go to Warren and apologize. Or just talk to him."
You know, Magneta was very menacing at times. Like now.
"I'll just go do that then. Now. Bye!"
And I ran away like the coward I was.
And down the yellow brick road I go, slipping into the cafeteria unnoticed and sitting in front of the slightly steaming fire maker.
"Warren?" I asked timidly, suddenly afraid of one of the only friends I had in this school.
"What?" He growled, sounding a teensy bit more pissed then usual.
"Magenta said you think that I'm ignoring you and that you're sad."
"I'm not," He growled, reading his book.
"Neither am I. Avoiding you, that is. Not the sad part. Because I am sad, which is why I'm avoiding everyone. Not just you."
He sighed, putting away Pride and Prejudice, one of the big heavy books I never even tried to get through. Too many words. Like Scarlet Letter. I shudder at Scarlet Letter.
"Is this about last night? Because I made it clear that Lash is a selfish asshole and doesn't deserve-"
"No, no, it's not about the dance. It's about last night, and pretty much every night in my light, but..." I looked around at everyone, knowing they were trying really hard not to look at me but trying pretty damn hard to listen in. "I got a phone call, after the dance, and it concerned that one topic I told you about. At the dance."
I looked at him, pleading to forgive me in my expression, probably looking a little constipated.
"You don't have to tell me." He concluded, opening his book again with a little smile that hardly anyone would be able to catch.
Glad that he didn't hate me, I practically collapsed on the table, my head melting into my arms. Maybe if I buried myself deep enough into my own little shadow, I'd be invisible to everyone and my problems would, in turn, be invisible to me.
Ostriches had it so easy.
Author's Note: Whoo! That took awhile. Poor Emily! She's so traumatized! But atleast she has Warren and, apparently, Quinn to help her through everything.
I'm sorry if this chapter was really long, but everyone probably likes long satisfying chapters, right? I felt Captain Jack rambled a bit too much in the beginning, though... He didn't sound like the drunken pirate in the movies, but I guess that the centuries had changed him. And yes, he is Captain Jack Sparrow.