Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. I do not gain any profit from this page.
Review response: The Fic Critic
Story Title: I devised the title on my own. I didn't name it after anything.
About "panelled" vs. "paneled": actually, I checked out Webster's Dictionary website, and both seem to be acceptable. So I guess that it's just a personal preference.
"Freaky Friday": That movie disgusted me. The character "Anna" was presented as hysterical, bratty, unreasonable, sullen, and barely likable, and yet, she was supposed to be a realistic teenage girl. While it's true that ALL teenagers, male or female, have their bad days, none that I know as a whiny and selfish as Anna was. Frankly, I felt quite insulted by her depiction; she wasn't even a real character, just a living bundle of teenage stereotypes.
Linsay Lohan: Yes, what her parents did to her was horrible and sad. But everyone has issues with their parents. Some issues are more extreme, some issues less. However, she's twenty-five now, and can't always be blaming someone else for her problems. At this point she needs to start taking responsibility for herself. She's been arrested for two DUIs, has been in and out of rehab for drugs and alcohol, and was caught shoplifting a necklace from a jewelry store. I will concede that she helped the British Red Cross in the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake.
My fics: "Its weird, I've looked at the profile page, and no way is all of your stories this bad." Could you let me know which of my stories you consider "bad," and inform me why? I welcome constructive criticism, just not flames.
On with the story.
With graceful ease, Carlie nimbly dropped from the ceiling, flipping in midair so she fluidly landed on her feet, as Jean stared at her, astounded.
"But . . . how?" That was all Jean could manage to say.
A somber look crossed Carlie's lovely face. "I should probably tell you everything. Well, when I was very young, my mother died, and my father had to raise me by himself. He was a police officer, and I always helped him with his cases, but one day he was killed in the line of duty."
"Oh, Carlie!" Jean rushed forward to embrace her best friend. "That's so terrible! You must be very strong to live through that."
Carlie gave her a melancholy smile. "It's all right. I learned to cope with it. After a while, you adjust to stuff like that. Anyway, after my dad passed away, the family of my best friend, Gwen Stacy, adopted me. I lived with them happily for several years. But then, about a year ago . . . my mutation surfaced. I don't even know why it took the form that it did. But I didn't tell anyone about it, not even Gwen. But I wanted to follow Spider-Man's example, so I began fighting crime in my spare time. Then, one day when I was supposed to meet Gwen in the park, the Green Goblin appeared suddenly and started wreaking havoc.
"I had no choice but to don my Spider-Girl costume and try to subdue him. There was no one else around, so we weren't endangering anyone. I was close to figuring out his secret identity, and I had ripped away most of his mask. When Gwen arrived at the park, though, the Goblin took her captive, and threw her off of the George Washington Bridge to distract me. I tried to save her, but. . ." Carlie's exquisite wisteria blue eyes welled with tears, and several ran down the fine, sculpted planes of her cheeks. "I'm not sure, but I think when I caught her by the leg with a string of web, her neck broke from the whiplash. My best friend died, and it's all my fault!" Carlie began to sob.
"No, Carlie!" Jean assured her. "Whatever the result, Gwen's death wasn't your fault! It was the Goblin! You tried to save Gwen!"
Carlie looked up at her, her face tearstained, but nonetheless beautiful. "You think so?"
"I know so," Jean said firmly. "Gwen was lucky to have a friend as wonderful as you."
"When she died, her parents were so stricken with grief that they sent me away because they couldn't bear to be reminded of Gwen every day. My birth name was Carlie Cooper, but I chose to take Gwen's surname as a tribute to her," Carlie explained tearfully. "Professor Xavier found me and invited me to learn here at the school."
"I'm glad he did that," Jean confided. "You're going to love it here, Carlie. And don't worry about being popular because everyone here already loves you. Well, everyone except for Rogue, but don't worry about her. No one likes her anyway."
"What's wrong with her?" Carlie asked tentatively. "She seems so unfriendly."
"She has a bad attitude," Jean said. "She can't touch anyone because of her mutation, and that makes her unhappy, but I'm glad. This way, she'll never get to have Scott. She's also a Satanist. Have you seen the way she dresses?"
"Being a Satanist is a really bad thing," Carlie said worriedly. "What if she's recruiting other students?"
Jean frowned. "Yeah, that would be awful." She brightened. "You know what? We should figure out how to get her expelled!"
Carlie giggled. "How would we do that?"
"Well, I have a few ideas," Jean replied mischievously.
The girls began chatting, and Carlie changed into her pajamas, which drawstring blue and white plaid pants that said, "Aero 1987" down the left leg in yellow lettering, and a matching blue shirt that said, "Aeropostale" across the front in yellow lettering. The best friends talked, laughed, and plotted well into the night.
The next morning, Carlie was awakened by the rays of sunlight streaming through the uncovered windows. After taking a few minutes to rub the sleep from her eyes, she decided to explore the grounds. Glancing over at Jean, who was still asleep, she decided to go alone. She didn't want to wake her new best friend so early when it had been a late night for both of them, and she needed some time to herself.
The first thing she did was comb her hair and style it into a cute, braided fishtail, and added a floral headband. When she was finished, she selected her outfit: a long-sleeved, henley shirt with ivory and mint green stripes over a lacy, ivory camisole, a short, curb chain necklace embellished with a long stem carved rose charm with rhinestone details, small drop earrings that featured a large rose-printed bead in each center and cutout frame with an antique finish, classic, medium denim jeans with a straight leg fit, and a pair of magenta and navy blue plaid Hollister sneakers. Just in case of an early morning chill, she grabbed her white, lightweight, military-inspired jacket with silvertone buttons down both the left and the right side and tied it around her waist. She applied just a few hints of makeup, with a touch of pink lip gloss, and sprayed just a little perfume, "DKNY Be Delicious."
Quietly, so not to wake the other occupants of the house, Carlie crept downstairs. As she passed by the living room, she heard voices arguing softly, obviously lowered so not to draw attention to themselves.
"You're my best friend here, Lance. When the Professor found me, you were one of the X-Men who helped stop the Brotherhood of Mutants from abducting me."
Carlie frowned. She wasn't certain, but she thought that it was Pietro's voice. He must have been speaking to Lance.
"I remember," Lance's baritone responded. "And I've had some great times with you, 'Tro. But something tells me that Carlie and I are meant to be together."
A gasp escaped from Carlie's lips. She hurriedly clapped a hand over her mouth, thinking of how embarrassing it would be to be caught eavesdropping when she was the topic of conversation. But her mind raced. Did Lance really feel that way about her?
"I'd let you have her, Lance," Pietro replied. "But I don't think that I'd ever be able to get over Carlie. She's wonderful. With her at my side, I could take down the entire Brotherhood."
A soft blush blossomed over Carlie's cheeks. Both these boys were admitting to each other that they were attracted to her. It hard to believe that she could ever inspire such passionate feelings in someone else. Her face grew warmer as she continued to listen to their conversation, so she walked past the room and exited through the front door as quietly as she could. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she twisted the knob and pushed it open, and no alarms rang throughout the halls. She walked out onto the wide, bare porch, enclosed by sculpted, wide stone pillars that supported the building, and made her way to the broad stone steps. She continued down the first one, when she suddenly tripped over an object and tumbled down the remaining steps to the ground.
She lay there, sprawled for a moment, catching her breath, then stood to find Rogue sitting and leaning against the base of the nearest pillar, wearing a goth outfit, her long legs stretched out in front of her. The girl scowled down at Carlie, her icy green eyes glaring menacingly as her lip curled. She said nothing.
Trembling with anger and anticipation, Carlie stood her ground. This "Rogue" was malicious; she had just deliberately tripped her! Every word Jean had said was true. Preparing for a fight, Carlie steeled herself to confront the other girl.