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"See that boy? He's the one sitting off to the side. Yes, that one. The one in the chair. His name is Trevor. Trevor Smith, or some such thing."
"He looks sad."
"He could have been independent."
"How? He's got no-"
"Shhh! No reason to mention it so loud. It's obvious what he's lacking."
"Still. I don't understand how he could have been independent."
"He was a mutant. Oh, don't give me that look. They're not all what you see on tv. He's a nice boy."
"They let him in the park? There are children around!"
"Quiet. Anyway, I said was."
"Once was, always is."
"As if you know what you're saying. He was never dangerous, after all. He could only do little things. Levitate pencils, turn door handles-"
"Pull triggers."
"Hush! He wasn't born like that, either. After his accident, his powers emerged. Like a gift from God."
"Death would have been kinder."
"May as well be dead, after all that odd business with the mutants. He'll never get to live on his own now."
"Who is that girl beside him?"
"His fianceé."
"Both so young! And she knows he's a gene-freak?"
"Not so loud! Of course she does! But they won't last."
"Stupidity of youth. Jumping into things."
"She'll end up a glorified babysitter, just you watch."
"But of course. And their children will be just a bunch of mutie freaks."
"Like their father was."
"Yes. Like he was."
Kalindi flattened her small, velveteen ears against her head, and not for the first time, wished it had been she who had lost her powers, instead of the boy in the wheelchair beside her.
"You'll be fine," Trevor whispered, knowing she could still hear. "And our children will be, too."
Kalindi's hand went to her stomach, almost unconsciously. She tried to force a smile.
"I believe you."
If one of the children she was carrying had a hint of her slit eyes or patterned ears, she might just die of heartbreak.
It was a pity, really. Trevor Smith could have been independent.