Disclaimer- I don't own the X-Men. They belong to Marvel Comics.

Mutant High Episode 2- "The Brotherhood Revealed"

Chapter 4

Jean had never used to think everything had a positive and a negative. Perhaps it was naiveté- a lack of worldly experience that had tailored her as such. When she and Scott were still dating, she could see no negative in the relationship- Scott was respectful and sensitive. Never overbearing or demanding. He was confident and friendly. Her friends and family loved him. And to top it all off, he was attractive, well groomed and well dressed.

In retrospect, there was plenty wrong with the relationship.

In the case of the mutant club, the positive was her chance to heighten her use of her abilities. Never had she felt so in control of her Telekinesis- Jean rarely used it before, and when she did, it would be for small things. Throwing a paper into the trashcan, or closing the door to her room. Now, she could lift the weight of a person with her mind. The other day, she had thrown a chair at Bobby while sparring. He hadn't exactly been pleased about that one.

The negative, of course, was spending so much time with her history teacher. Sure, he was a nice man, but it never gave her an excuse to be performing poorly in the class. And try as she might, Jean could never muster any interest in the subject. It confounded her strongly as to how anyone could spend their life researching it- she was much more interested in things of a scientific or creative nature.

It was that issue which brought Jean to the library, where Ororo had agreed to meet her to study before the history quiz later that day. It was no secret Ororo held the highest grade in the class. It's not as if she bragged about it outright, per say, but if the topic even floated close to her performance, she would gladly tell you just how well she was doing.

The door to the library opened with an embarrassing squeak. Jean was relieved to see that nobody noticed her entrance. She had never liked the library. Despite being a supposedly quiet place designed for study, it had evolved into a storage facility for Westchester High's Slacker population.

Eyeing the row of computers along the wall, Jean decided it was a perfect opportunity to practice her telepathy. She decided on a girl who she believed to be named Candace- a towheaded sophomore whose overly restrictive jeans, coupled with her high sitting shirt cause her baby fat to form an unflattering bulge around her midsection. Jean had no idea what would ever compel someone to dress that way. She decided to find out.

She focused her thoughts on Candace, and tried to hear her thoughts. Within seconds, the connection was set.

She was very unaware of her surroundings. For all she knew, a knife-wielding maniac could be right behind her, ready to slash her throat. Her thoughts were preoccupied by taunting the heavyset boy next to her friend, Liz. The mocking words were coating with amiability, however- they were friends. It was all a joke.

You're one to talk, Jean thought. Making fun of others- have you looked at your midsection lately?

The confidence suddenly cracked a bit.

"Oh my god. Liz. LIZ," Candace whined, grabbing her friend enthusiastically.

"What?" replied Liz, irritated at being interrupted.

"I just realized how FAT I look in this shirt!"
It was at this point that Jean broke the link. She snickered mentally. She had just inadvertently transferred thought. Emma would be pleased.

She had spotted Ororo at a table by the window. Jean waved, her bangles jingling with her arm. Ororo smiled warmly.

"What's up?" Jean asked. As nobody was looking, she pulled a chair from under the table with her telekinesis, and sat down, placing her bag on the table.

"Nothing much. And yourself?"

"I just controlled someone with my mind," Jean beamed proudly, being sure to keep her voice at a whisper.

"They must have been very weak minded," Ororo joked. Jean feigned insult, grasping her chest in faux-pain.

"Tell me everything," Ororo insisted.

And so Jean recounted the incident to her, Ororo listening intently the whole time. Jean tried to draw it out as long as possible. As necessary she knew it was, she was not keen on studying, and knew Ororo would change the subject as soon as possible. As her grandfather would have said, it was "immigrant syndrome". It was his rather politically incorrect way of discussing the motivation of "those Koreans" and other such groups. Jean didn't doubt that Ororo was under pressure from her parents to succeed.

About ten minutes had gone by, and Jean was no closer to remembering which James and George and Henry was which.

"Why did they have such few names in old England?" Jean griped. "They could have learned some originality, really! Why not 'Algernon', or 'Atticus'?" Ororo waited a couple seconds, just to be sure Jean's ranting was done.

"I'll repeat the question: Who was Henry the eighth's first wife?" Ororo spoke slowly and deliberately.

"I dunno. Catherine?" Jean guessed.

"Which One?"
Jean sighed. "I should have known there was more than one. Um, the second?"
Ororo closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "Catherine of Aragon, Jean." Ororo let out a long, deep breath.

"I just don't get how it's so difficult for you," Ororo explained, ruffling her white hair.

"I'm just bad at memorizing facts, I guess," Jean offered. "I'm better with creative stuff. I'm just fine with English."

Jean gazed off at the computer lab again. At this point, she was too far away to hear any conversation. Maybe now would be a good time to practice again.

Ororo had begun reading her notes aloud to Jean, as if she were lecturing her. Blocking out her voice, Jean focused on a boy with scraggly brown hair and a tattered, soft looking black hoodie, sitting a couple seats down from Candace.

Dom Petros was his name. It was Greek.

"Hey hot thing!" taunted the girl with curly black hair. "Whatcha doin?" the blonde one pestered. Both of them were using an intentionally nasal tone, giggling like a schoolgirls on a glue high.

How annoying. Can't they leave me alone? I'm not doing anything to them.
The curly haired girl leaned over. "Cool website. That looks AWESOME."

"Would you mind getting your head out of my face?" He hissed. Her head bobbed away.

"Boy Liz, someone is touchy!"
"Touchy!"
"MHM."

Your parents should be ashamed they ever birthed you. Jean couldn't help but snicker. Ororo looked up.

"Are you paying attention, Jean?" She asked, her piercing eyes glaring straight at her.

"Yeah. Sure." Jean focused her eyes on Ororo, who skeptically turned back to the notes and resumed her lecture.

The fury was boiling! Jean could feel his anger rushing through her body.

"Why are you two being such JAPS?"

The girls laughed simultaneously.
"I'm Buddhist," Candace insisted.

"BAPS, then. What is wrong with you?"

They pulled back, offended. Why are they upset? They're the instigators!

" Wrong with US? What would give you that Idea?"

Jean stood as Dom stood. Ororo looked up at her. "What's wrong, Jean?"

Jean's eyes went wide. She gasped, grabbing her mouth.

"Ororo. We have a problem."

"We were just being NICE."
"Yeah. NICE. Gawd."

Dom thrust his fist downward. His arm began to shake wildly, like a seizure was contained within it.

The whole room began to quake.

Jean sprinted forward, Ororo rushing after her. As the two girls approached, Dom lifted his arm upwards. The carpeting tore as the foundation beneath it cracked. Liz and Candace scrambled toward the desk.

Around them, the other students were in chaos. Some were paralyzed by fear. Others tried to run, but the shaking had brought them down.

Ororo fell to her knees, collapsing near Jean.

"The quaking is too strong!" Ororo yelled. Jean nodded, terrified.

No. No terror. Being scared is when you loose control. She reminded herself. She opened her mind to Ororo, trying to draw in some of the African's ever-present confidence.

She couldn't steady herself any longer. The chasm was widening. Focusing all of her telekinetic power, she pushed of the ground, lifting herself into the air. The weight of her body put strain on her mind, but it was slight.

Just direct yourself like a clay pigeon, she told herself. Hovering above the trembling floor, she darted straight for the enraged youth. With a hand extended, she imagined herself lifting him, throwing him back.

She lifted Dom into the air, and shot him into the door. He hit with a thud, but he shaking stopped. Jean descended, and rushed forward. He was getting up.

Stay down, Jean commanded mentally, trying to grip his mind again. But it was too frantic.

On his feet. Damn. This was not a sadistic enemy. His pupils had shrunk, to a point of almost invisibility. His face had contorted into a menacing scowl. He was angry, and he had identified Jean has his target. He slammed his hands together. A thunderous roar blazed through the earth, and like a javelin came a large stone slab, ripping through the earth directly toward Jean. She shot into the air again, pulling back as fast as she could to dodge. She landed much less gracefully than before, and struggled to regain her balance.

"Jean. Get them out through the back exit," Ororo commanded from behind. "I'll distract him."

All right. Jean nodded, and extended her arm, popping a window open in the far corner.

It was a lot to focus on while running, but as she retreated, Jean tried to visualize the faces of everyone in the library, tried to pull them all into her mind.

The back, she urged. Get out through the windows. Please. He'll block the door and get you. RUN.

Ororo approached Dom slowly, deliberately.

"Please, settle down," she reasoned.

"SHUT UP!" He roared. "YOU THINK YOU CAN HELP ME, DON'T YOU?"

"I can try."
"Of course you can, Miss Righteous."

The vibrations started again. Griping the protruding rock from before, Ororo let her emotions flow freely.

As her eyes vanished under a foggy white, so did the room. The humidity shot up as clouds spilled from Ororo's hands.

He fired, sending another javelin straight towards Ororo. With a grunt of power, she summoned a lightning bolt from the cloud. It collided with the stone, and exploded fantastically.

"I'll make sure you're next if you don't stop," Ororo commanded. Dom said nothing. He simply ran towards her. Exasperated, Storm shot her hand forward, allowing for a heavy gale to build. Her white curls whipped around her face and her skirt billowed as if it were coming to life. She focused directly on Dom, and the gale blew him back. He sailed through the wooden door this time, rolling into the hallway, unconscious.

Ororo's blue irises surfaced from the white, and she ran out into the hallway to confirm the hit.

Meanwhile, Jean dialed the police.