Chapter Nine:
Not John… Pyro
An awkward silence fell over the room after Bobby told his family that he was a mutant. The tension became so thick it could literally be cut with a knife. The only sound that could be heard at the moment was that of John, flicking his Zippo lighter open and close. I felt nervous for Bobby… or maybe I was feeling his nervousness, but it didn't matter who it was.
Flick. Clink. Flick. Clink.
Sighing and leaning further back in my seat, I looked over my shoulder. Mr. Logan was standing behind me, pacing back and forth like an animal in its cage with watchful eyes. He glanced at me briefly, face unreadable and resumed his pacing. From what Marie and told John and me, the Drakes had walked into the house and found him in the kitchen drinking a beer. I could only imagine their reaction. When the three of us got downstairs, everyone was in the living room. Feeling uncomfortable and out of place, I decided that it wouldn't be a great idea to sit on the couch with Bobby, his mom and his brother. So, I grabbed a chair close by and dragged it where Mr. Logan was standing. I felt safer and more comfortable with him around anyway.
"So," my attention immediately turned to Mrs. Drake, who was nervously playing with her hands as she spoke to her eldest son. "Uh, when did you first know you were a- a--?"
"A mutant?" John offered, leaning against the table beside me. He was still playing with his lighter, not at all bothered by the situation. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I thought he was enjoying it.
Flick. Clink. Flick. Clink.
Annoyed with having been interrupted, she rolled her eyes and looked at him, "Would you cut that out?" She asked a bit rudely, motioning towards his Zippo lighter. I stole a quick glance at him and waited for him to say something smart, but he didn't. Instead he kept his eyes on her and stopped playing with his lighter, but didn't put it away. It remained in his hand, where he probably thought it would be safe and secure.
"You have to understand," Mr. Drake began, taking the opportunity to join the conversation. "We thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted," he finished looking somewhat perplexed.
"Bobby is gifted," Marie said, jumping to her boyfriend's defense.
"We know that," he said, carefully choosing his words. "We just didn't realize--"
"We still love you, Bobby," Mrs. Drake said, cutting her husband off. "It's just… this mutant problem is a little--"
"What mutant problem?" I looked at Mr. Logan. He'd finally stopped pacing and was now leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, looking into the living room.
"Complicated," she finished as if she hadn't been interrupt by the large man beside me. Her eyes flickered in my direction for a moment.
"What exactly are you a professor of, Mr. Logan?" Mr. Drake asked, curiously.
"Art," was his response. I snorted softly and bit my lip to keep from smiling.
"Well," Marie spoke up. "You should see what Bobby can do."
The air in the room, at that moment, felt weird. My stomach churned and my headache was back. I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes. Someone was angry and it was strong. That happened sometimes. I could easily be sitting somewhere by myself when I'd get hit by someone else's emotion. If it was strong enough, I could feel it without touching them and that was dangerous for me.
"Just breathe deep. It'll pass".
Nodding, I did what I was told and after a few moments it was gone. I shook my head and looked up to see Bobby touching the cup in his mother's hand. I sat up in my seat a little. Mrs. Drake stared into the cup, eyes wide, mouth open. When her son moved away, she gasped lightly and turned it upside down, letting a clump of ice fall onto the saucer.
"I can do a lot more than that," Bobby said, sounding proud of himself.
I smiled a little, amused by the reaction on her face and her husband's. I couldn't see his brother, he was well hidden from my site, but I could guess what he was feeling. His mother didn't look up as she placed the cup and saucer on the coffee table in front of her. From beside me, John laughed quietly and Mr. Logan just stood there, observing. The family cat jumped onto the table with a small meow and began licking at the frozen tea.
And as if that was the last thing he could handle, Bobby's brother stood up and left the room, running up the stairs without looking back. "Oh, Ronny!" Mrs. Drake called after him, helplessly. Everyone exchanged looks. "This is all my fault," she said, shaking her head, dropping her gaze to the floor.
"Actually," John began in a strong voice. "They discovered that males are the ones that carry the mutant gene and pass it on." I furrowed my brows and let his information sink in. "So, it's his fault." I looked at Bobby's dad, who looked taken aback by what he'd just learned. Shaking my head slightly, I laughed quietly to myself. I looked over towards John's direction and, coincidently, he was looking at me, too. He winked and turned away. Caught off guard, I let my gaze linger on him a little longer before turning away too, my cheeks feeling a little warmer then before.
After the bit of information John dropped, things got quiet. Everyone just sat there, looking at one another as if asking what they should do about the situation. A shiver ran down my spine at the though of what my family did when they found out I was a mutant.
"They're gone, Carolina. There's no need to think about what happened. You can't keep looking back and expect to go forward."
"Now who sounds like a damn fortune cookie?" I asked, making sure to keep my voice as low as possible.
The silence was suddenly broken by a loud ringing sound. "Oh," Mr. Logan said, snapping out of his thoughts and reaching into his back pocket. "It's for me," he laid a hand on my shoulder and walked towards the glass sliding doors that led outside, into the backyard.
"Bobby," his mother began. "Have you ever tried… not being a mutant?"
I heard John snort, but I ignored it and kept my eyes on her. For a moment, I expected someone to tell her off, but no one did and that upset me. The crestfallen look on Bobby's face made my heart feel heavy. So, I decided that I didn't want to be the mute girl anymore. "No offense to you, Mrs. Drake," I said, sitting up in my seat. Everyone's attention was on me now. "But how could you even ask that? It's ridiculous. It's like asking a person if they can stop aging and dying - it's not possible, catch my drift?" She raised an eyebrow and I continued to speak. "You should be proud of your son, not trying to make him feel bad." Bobby turned around to face me. He gave me a small smile, showing me that he was thankful that I was standing up for him, "Or at least be happy that he can pass off as normal. Most mutants aren't as lucky as we are."
"And who are you exactly?" She asked, titling her head to the side, examining me. I wondered if she had even heard anything I had said to her. She was probably one of those moms' that, unless it was something she wanted to hear, wouldn't.
"Carolina," I replied, letting my gaze fall to my hands. "I'm, uh… I'm a--"
"She's a friend of mine," Bobby said, cutting me off. Friend? I liked the sound of that. Bobby Drake was my first official friend at school. He turned around again and smiled at me. I returned it without hesitation. "She's new to the school."
She nodded, "And I suppose your parents know that you're a-a mutant, hmm? How did they react to that bit of news?"
"Mom!" Bobby protested.
I felt the smile on my face vanish at the mention of my parents.
"Breathe."
Making sure to keep my eyes locked with her and no one else, I replied: "They're dead. Everyone's gone." Not wanting to see her reaction, I looked down at my hands again. Why had I told her? Why had I let them hear? I let out a long sigh. Everything went quiet again.
"Something's about to go down," V said. "I'm not sure what, but just do as you're told and you'll be okay."
V's warning startled me. The last time it did, the school was attacked. "We have to go now," I looked up as Mr. Logan walked back into the house, locking the sliding door behind him. He looked tense, could he feel that something was about to happen too?
"Why?" Marie asked.
"Now," he repeated without further explanation. He stopped beside me, eyes darting between John and me. "Help her," he said, walking off towards the front door. I heard the familiar sound of knives clashing together and knew that he had his claws out.
John and I exchanged looks as we stood up. He wrapped his arm around my waist and I draped mine over his shoulders. He was nervous again. We all followed after Mr. Logan, but stopped dead in our tracks when we stepped out on to the porch. "You have got to be shitting me," I groaned, grabbing a handful of John's shirt. The front of the house was surrounded by cops and cars. What scared me the most was that they were aiming guns at us. I felt John tighten his arm around me, he was scared too. I guessed that this was what Voice was trying to warn me about.
"Drop the knives," my head snapped to the side. A male cop was standing beside us; a few feet away with a gun aimed at us in his hands, "And put your hands in the air."
"What's goin' on here?" Mr. Logan asked while the rest of us looked around frantically. I saw that there was another cop standing on the other side of the porch, a blond woman. I couldn't believe this was happening. Hadn't we just escaped from the soldiers back at the school? How the hell had the police found us here of all places?
"Ronny," Bobby said as if reading my thoughts. I looked at him with disbelief. His brother? I don't know why I was surprised, he had seemed angry earlier.
"I said drop the knives," the male cop repeated. His request went unanswered though because at that moment there was a loud sound of glass shattering from behind us. Startled, I tightened my grip on John and looked over my shoulder. More officers had gotten into the house. Now we really were surrounded.
Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!
"This is just a misunderstanding."
"Put the knives down!" The man yelled, sounding frustrated.
Mr. Logan turned his head to look at the man, "I can't," he said, trying to keep his cool. "Look," he slowly began to raise his arms to show him what he meant, but the cop must have seen it as a threat because the next thing I knew, he had pulled the trigger and shot Mr. Logan straight in the forehead. Shock. Fear. Anger. John pulled me back as I screamed and watched Mr. Logan's body hit the ground with a thud. My knees felt shaky and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. If John hadn't been holding me up at that moment, my legs would have probably given out on me.
"Alright," the cop, who had pulled the trigger, said, "The rest of you, on the ground now!" I
hesitated for a moment, but then remembered what Voice had told me. I let go of John and pulled myself away from him, my eyes still on Mr. Logan's lifeless body. I lowered myself, careful not to hurt my leg, and laid flat on the ground. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Marie and Bobby doing the same. I felt my eyes beginning to water. How the hell could this be happening? What had we done to them? Mr. Logan hadn't hurt anyone and yet he had been shot. I let out a shaky sigh, it was strange how attached to him I had gotten in a short amount of time. With my working arm, I reached out to touch his hand, but a voice stopped me.
My attention turned to Marie, who was shaking her head, taking deep breaths. "Don't touch him," she said her eyes on him. "Not yet." Biting the inside of my lip, I drew back my hand and looked away from her. She looked calm. I had sort of expected her to be freaking out, but no. She was just staring at him, muttering something I couldn't hear.
"Look, kid. I said, on the ground!"
"We don't wanna hurt you, kid," said the female cop.
I looked away from Mr. Logan and saw who the police were talking to. "John," he looked down at me. I couldn't bring myself to say anything else.
Breathing heavily, he shook his head. "You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?" For a moment I thought he had been talking to me, but when I saw that he had his Zippo lighter in his hand, I knew he wasn't. I narrowed my eyes at him as if asking what the hell was he thinking of doing. He looked away from me to the man who had shot Mr. Logan, "I'm the worst one." The fire from his lighter jumped into his hand. He raised his arm towards the cop. I watched as it spiraled and knocked the man off the porch.
My eyes remained locked on where the man had been standing moments before. When I heard a female scream, I knew John had done the same to her. He turned around and aimed his arm inside the house. More screams. He faced forward again and began aiming the fire towards the cop cars, switching hands as he went.
"Oh my, God," I breathed shakily. I shut my eyes, unable to watch his mass destruction. Images of the night my brother and younger sister died replayed in my head. The screams of our neighbors calling for help ringed in my ears, the feel of being held back by people when I tried to run inside our burning house, my barrier pushing them away. More screams.
"Stop it. Stop thinking. Don't think. Open your eyes!"
Against my better judgment, I opened them just in time to see one of the cop cars exploding and another one on fire. There were people inside. I tore my eyes away from the burning car to John. He was smiling, but it wasn't the smile I'd seen earlier. It was scary. He seemed proud of what he was doing. I shook my head. This wasn't John… this was Pyro. From the corner of my eye, I saw Marie removing one of her gloves. She gave me a quick glance as she placed her hand on his bare leg. I looked up again; John was looking at his hand now. The veins in his face were visible and his skin was turning gray. He was making weird noises, like he was choking. Was he dying?
Eyes wide with worry and fear I looked back at Marie. She had her arm outstretched in front of her, aimed towards the burning cars. That's when I noticed- the fire was dying down. What kind of mutation did she have exactly? But before I could even go over the possibilities, I was distracted by a sound coming from above us. It was a jet. Storm and Dr. Grey? Again, distracted by the jet, I hadn't noticed that Marie and Bobby were standing up or that John looked like his normal healthy self. Slowly, I pushed myself up, but didn't stand up. I was still a little shaky. I wanted to collect myself before standing up. Tearing my gaze away from the scene in front of me, I looked towards Mr. Logan. A sudden rush of sadness hit me. He was dead. My knight was dead. I reached out to touch his hand, a final goodbye, but stopped when I saw his chest rise.
I jerked back in shock as he stood up and cracked his neck. He was alive. How the hell was he alive? We all saw what happened. Or had I imagined it? No, no, I hadn't imagined it. I spotted the speck of blood on his forehead where he had been shot as he looked over his shoulder at John.
Inhaling deeply and trying my best not to freak out, I stood up slowly as Bobby and Marie walked off the porch, towards the direction of the jet. I pressed my hand against the doorframe, trying to steady myself as I stood up and as if sensing my struggle, John turned around and took a step towards me to help. And though I was grateful, I was still scared of him. I moved away, shaking my head, eyes darting nervously to and away from him. I didn't want to be near him as childish as it may have sounded. Watching him try and burn those people alive, whether they deserved it or not, hit close to home. Realizing that I wasn't going to take his hand, he dropped it and walked away, leaving me alone and followed behind Marie and Bobby. I felt stupid for not accepting his help, but I couldn't.
I dropped my gaze to the ground; half wishing they would leave me behind. I gritted my teeth. Why was I being this way? Did I really want them to leave me behind?
"They made you this way. They taught you to question everything. It's not your fault."
"I should have left that night with…" I trailed off, not wanting to finish my sentence.
The next thing I knew I was being carried off the porch by Mr. Logan. He didn't say anything to me, just kept looking forward, walking towards the jet. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, wrapping my arm around his neck and, just like before, he stiffened, but relaxed. I felt his worry though, his anger and the same familiar feeling of being lost. Why did he always feel lost?