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Chapter Six: In My Arms
Story books, full of fairy tales,
Of kings and queens and the bluest skies.
My heart is torn in knowing
You'll someday see the truth for lies.
When the clouds will rage
And storms will race, but you will be safe in my arms.
Rain will pour down, waves crash all around.
But you will be safe in my arms.
-In My Arms, Plumb
I did not envy Mystique. The X-Men wanted to hurt her even more than Momma and I did. However, the team decided to detain her until a decision could be reached on her consequence. It was very late, anyway, and half the team was still away.
Sleep did not come easily.
Shortly before midnight, I awoke to a tapping at my window.
I saw Papa's silhouette and opened the window. Julie slept on.
"Pop," I whispered, "What're you doin'?"
"It's Wednesday," he smiled. "We gotta date. Get dressed."
I had class the next day, but sleep seemed irrelevant. I quickly pulled on a pair of leggings, boots, and the standard denim jacket. My hair was pulled back in a haphazard pony-tail. He told me to hold onto his neck, and we leapt harmlessly to the ground. We rode his motorcycle into the city. It was the first time I'd ever ridden one, and although I was uneasy at first, I soon found the open air exhilarating. The racing pavement near my exposed limbs made me giddy with excitement.
We went to the Museum of Modern Art. The simplistic building belied its notoriety.
"Papa," I said irritably, "It's de middle of de night. Dey're closed!"
"So?"
Once more, he had me climb on his back and we broke in. He disarmed the security system and carried a small electronic device to scramble the cameras. The machine was limited to whatever room he was in. That way, the underpaid, sleepy security guard would only notice one screen flickering at a time.
Papa was very excited about an M.C. Escher exhibit.
Personally, I found the darkened hallways more interesting. It had been a long time since I'd been out Thieving. Oh, we didn't take anything, but this was how one thieved. Papa operated just like Jean-Luc. I imagined my father at my age, accompanying his father. Jean-Luc was alright, but he wasn't as fun as Papa.
The art exhibit was pretty dull at first glance. The colors were black and white or flat. The pictures were silly and impossible. It was only when Papa explained Escher's use of geometry that I began to take an interest. I had never thought of my father as an art fan. Papa said this artist was a genius: that with very little training, he could simply look and think and work out the calculations. Escher was brave enough to not only imagine the impossible, but to make it real. Papa said he always thought life was a pattern. He believed that beneath the words, skin and heartbeat, there was a pulse that drove us all to the same rhythm. He said he saw that same pulse in Escher's work.
"Y' know, Pop," I said proudly, "People just don't give you credit."
We made it back to school, and I got a few more hours sleep. I never told him what happened earlier that night, and he never told me about his away mission. Sometimes, it's necessary to just ignore unpleasant things.
That's what the nighttime's for.
News of Foxx's undercover status ignited the school's rumor mill. To everyone's surprise, she wasn't crucified. She was offered a place on the team. Apparently, the X-Men believed the old proverb: if you couldn't beat 'm, join 'm.
My life was such a whirlwind of activities that spring, Mystique's presence hardly registered in my mind.
Since Foxx had been exposed, my parents had slowly come to understand and accept her many manipulations. Her ultimate goal was to drive Papa and Rogue apart. She attempted to do this by attacking my family's weakest points: Rogue's insecurities about Papa's commitment; Momma's desire to keep me safe and happy; and my need to be understood. She had attempted to isolate Papa, and had nearly succeeded. His family felt inadequate, his squad was bickering, and his teammates didn't trust him. How much more would he have lost before he finally just left?
Momma consented to arbitration with my father, and he agreed to submit to observation. For the first time in a long time, I was hopeful for some sense of normality.
Predictably, the contractors had fallen behind schedule, so we all picked up the slack. Every weekend for three weeks, my parents and I painted, installed shelves, hung up curtains and carried furniture. While Papa and I were at school, Momma picked out the appliances and interviewed gardeners. We moved in May 20: a month shy of Rogue's due date.
At school, my teachers were convinced I was ready for the ninth grade. My parents agreed to let me take the seventh and eighth grade exams. If I passed both, I would move on to high school with my friends. I started spending all my free time in the library. Everyone else took exams over the course of a week. I would test for two weeks. That meant losing a week of summer break. Of course, exam time was also the time for squad placement, and that's what everyone was really excited about.
Thursday afternoon, the bleachers were loaded. Ethan and Nate were testing today. It wasn't uncommon for the school to attend anyway, but Nate was a particularly popular student. Everyone knew he would do well. Tess and I arrived early and sat up front. Before things got started, we snuck into the lockers to wish Nate good luck. The room was noisy and smelly. The dozen or so boys from his class were basking in their testosterone glory: shouting and bumping chests. When they saw Tess and me, they screamed in falsetto voices and grabbed their towels.
"My virtue!" Ethan yelped.
"If this is a panty raid, LeBeau, your timing's terrible," said Jay Guthrie.
Tess and I giggled.
"We came t' wish you luck," I told Nate.
The room whistled and hollered.
He smiled at me, looking particularly handsome without a shirt. Unlike many of the other boys, Nate had some definition. His boots and pants were the standard patent leather. I noticed his belt buckle was a silver 'X' within a circle just below his impressive abs. His bare chest had some firm fullness, too. His arms – I intimately knew the strength of his upper limbs – were a study of anatomy. Every muscle was carved and hard as stone. The sight of his flesh at once repulsed and intrigued me. Top the package off with some stellar hair, sweet blue eyes and old money, and you had one great catch.
"You're a doll," one of the other boys called. "Now show us the tits."
My friends leapt to my defense, hurling nasty words and lose items. As Tess and I turned to leave, we turned into Logan. Although shorter than me, I seemed to shrink under his stare. His large, bulky arms were crossed and tense with adrenaline.
"You girls can't read?" he snarled.
Tess swallowed hard.
"We- we just-" I stuttered.
"You just earned yourself a place on the course. Hostages. Come with me."
Too frightened to argue, we complied.
The field was set up like an obstacle course. Nate's class was divided into four teams of six, each with three boys and girls. Each team was given a flag to defend. The objective was to capture the other flags without losing the defended flag. At the last minute, Logan decided to replace the flags with "hostages". Tess and I joined Quentin and Reagan – older students also serving detention with Logan – as said hostages. We were given black uniforms and protective gear, and instructed to wait to be "rescued".
The crowd seemed to enjoy the change in details. They cheered briefly as we hostages took our position, and thundered when the teams emerged. I was guarded by Jay's team. While Tabitha Smith and Sally Blevins protected me, everyone else split to capture the other hostages. There were some impressive battles, some explosions, and some students removed for receiving a "mortal wound". The uniforms worked as a barrier to protect us from harm. However, to ensure a fair game, the outfits also detected the possibility for great harm. Should anyone take a hit that should have finished them off, the uniform rendered the wearer useless. That way, no one got hurt but the game followed realistic combat.
I didn't see much of the action. For ten or fifteen minutes, I sat on my derriere and picked at the grass. Finally, Nate and Rusty Collins came to capture me. There was a brief battle, and Nate managed to grab me. I resisted out of play. Logan didn't give us any instructions on behavior. Even though Nate was my friend and I wanted him to win, I was bored.
He was not in the mood for games.
"Knock it off, 'On!" he snapped and threw me over his shoulder.
Now my derriere was in the air, and I heard the low laughter of a distant crowd. I struggled, but he had no trouble keeping me still while running back through the course and fighting off the other teams. He really was incredibly strong. Before he returned to his base, I slipped from his grasp and he struggled to grab me. His hand happened to grab between my thighs, and I indignantly kneed his stomach. He fell like a giant – first to his knees and then flat on his front. I broke his fall, and fought to get out. I did not like him on top of me. I did not want him touching me.
Even injured, he overpowered me.
I just wanted to get away. I would go with him willingly, but he couldn't touch me again. Once more, I was blocked by his invincible body. When the boy wanted to, he could weigh a ton and endure any pain. I kicked and punched and felt my powers building with my hysteria. Even though I knew it was a game, I felt trapped. Even though I knew he was my friend, I felt threatened. Even though I knew I was safe, I felt as helpless and violated as I had on the moon…
"LET ME GO!" I screamed, fighting with all my might.
He tried to pick me up.
"GET OFF ME!"
I felt my energy reach its climax. Something inside me was winding up tightly, ready to fire off and destroy everything it could reach.
Thunder clapped.
The world around me calmed, but the storm within continued to brew.
I felt the air suddenly cool, heavy clouds rolled in, and rain began to pour. The students on the bleachers ran for cover as the rain became blindingly heavy. Although the game hadn't been paused, the players were in complete confusion.
"You are safe, my child," Tante Ro said.
She calmly descended the bleachers and crossed the field to approach me.
I didn't feel safe. I felt used and befuddled. I lay on my back as the field beneath me turned to mud. My godmother gently placed a hand on my stomach, and I felt her strength flow through me. I felt her spirit - her very essence – revive my soul. And I don't know why, but I wept.
I sobbed and screamed and the storm cried with me.
"What did I do?" Nate asked her.
"You did nothing wrong, child. This is the fear inside her taking hold. I have felt it many times. The demon blinds us until we lash out, hurting everything around us. Most of all, we hurt ourselves. I will stay with her. Go on with your game."
"But – But she's-"
"Logan will understand. Continue with your course."
I didn't understand why I was so upset. I was ashamed of my reaction. My body seemed to be acting of its own accord.
"May I help you to the infirmary?" Tante Ro asked me.
I pulled myself into a sitting position and found my body very heavy. My head was light and dizzy.
"I can't walk," I told her. My words slurred together.
"It's all right," said a man's voice, "I'll carry her."
"I do not think that is wise."
I used all my strength to look at the man.
Ethan.
With the last of my power, I lifted my arms to him. He quickly scooped me up. His arms were strong, too, but different from Nate. Ethan wasn't an invincible boulder to fight against; he was an unshakable foundation. I was so weak and helpless in his arms. I couldn't even lift my eye lids. I felt the movement of his body as we entered the halls and took the underground tunnels back to the school. He turned me as we squeezed through doorways, and held me close when we ascended the stairs. He never struggled to support me or asked me to stand.
"I don' wanna go t' sick…" I muttered, "I wanna go t' bed."
"You sure?"
"Yeah…"
So he took me to my room, carried me inside and gently laid me in my bed.
"You stay wit' me?"
"Of course, beautiful," he said, stroking my wet hair. "I'll stay as long as you want."
On the morning of June 12th, my mother woke me some hours before dawn. Surprisingly, I was having the best night's sleep of my life. What wasn't a surprise was why she woke me so early.
"Rogue had de babies."
We grabbed some breakfast at a 24-hour diner before continuing to the hospital. That was the first time I ever ordered a cup of coffee. I didn't care for it.
"I remember de day you were born," Momma told me as we ate our bacon. "You weren't due for another month, but I had labor pains all day. Everybody told me it was nothin'. First time mommas always jump de gun, dey said. De Old Man had de house full. He and your grandmamma were getting' ready for dere fortieth anniversary. It was gonna be dis big party on September 20, and everyone said 'Oh, how wonderful! Belle gonna have her baby on dere weddin' anniversary!' But I said, 'Dis baby ain't waitin' on any anniversary.' 'Course, didn't no one listen t' me. T'ank goodness Tante Mattie was dere, 'cause you weren't waitin' on a doctor, either. Six forty-five, I dropped t' de floor just screamin' in pain. Tante Mattie looked at me and said, 'Holy merde! Dis bebe's comin' now!' Mais, I'd been tellin' her dat all day!
"She said: 'Keep your legs toget'er, femme! Keep your legs toget'er!' And of course, nothin' scared de Old Man. He's over dere, smokin' a cigar: 'If she didn't listen t' me, Tante, what makes you t'ink she'll listen t' you?' Less den an hour later, dere you were. Head full of red curls and screamin' your little lungs out. You always were a fighter. You know, babies born dat quick are normally still born. I knew dat. Dat's why everyone said I was wrong t' say you was comin' so fast. It's a miracle… I always t'ought Julien was lookin' over you. De family had enough death for de time bein'…" She wiped her eyes and said: "De first time I held you, de very first time… I felt myself bein' born. You don't ever love anyone like you love your children. You been de best part of my life, chere."
"Note to self," I said, "Momma gets weak-kneed over men wit' charm and babies wit' curls."
My little brother was three and a half hours old when I held him. He was chubby for a newborn, and especially heavy for a twin. He was bald as a cue ball, but had blackish-blue eyes that were alert and clear. He looked up into my eyes, meeting me as I met him. My little sister was almost five hours old before I held her. She had fallen asleep on her mother's chest, and no one wanted to wake her. Poor Rogue looked half-dead. She didn't wake up the entire time I was there.
Finally, Mystique removed the little girl from her mother's arms, and gently placed her in mine. She reminded me to support the head, and then watched the little girl sleep in my arms. My sister was also bald, but slimmer than her brother. She was the runt.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Mystique cooed. "She's got her momma's nose."
My sister nuzzled against my chest, then opened her eyes. She looked at me as if to say: 'Wait a minute. You're not my mother!'
"Look at those beautiful blue eyes!" Mystique gushed. Then she said to my father: "I might be in luck, LeBeau! Maybe these aren't your children after all!"
My father shot her a rude gesture.
Papa and Rogue named their children Olivier Jean-Luc and Rebecca Raven, respectively. Although slightly premature, the twins were only held for three days before they came home. Mystique was elated that Rogue had named her daughter after her. She insisted on taking a room at the new house in order to help with the new babies. She even agreed to a monitoring device. With the brain implant, the X-Men knew where she was all the time, and they preferred her at our house than the mansion. She couldn't hurt or lie without receiving an electric impulse. Also, Rogue and Momma had the ability to stun her. With Mystique around, Rogue's hormones completely screwed up, and two screaming infants – my parents decided to send me away for a few weeks.
"Johnny called," my mother said one night at dinner. "He's tourin' wit' Carlos Santana this summer. Isn't dat fabulous?"
"Dat's great," I agreed.
"He's stopping in all de big cities… Atlanta, San Antonio, Miami… All across de country. What you t'ink about goin' wit' him?"
I dropped my fork.
"Seriously?"
"Oui."
"Can Tess come?"
"Oh, I don't see why not."
"Oh my god!" I screamed. "I'm gonna meet Santana!"
Without clearing my plate or asking to be excused, I leapt up and ran to my room. I had calls to make and bags to pack! If the pod people had taken over my parents, they could stay! I couldn't believe this!
My parents – who were so over-bearing that they went with me to a mental institution and knew all of my friends and teachers on a first-name basis – were letting me go on a rock concert tour! There would be underage drinking and celebrities! I'd be partying all night, and sleeping all day! I could wear whatever I wanted! I'd get to see great cities and hear amazing music. Best of all, I'd have Tess with me.
If my parents had any idea what I did that summer, they would have driven west just to drag me home. The outrageous parties surpassed all of my expectations. Despite Johnny's endless reminders of my age, I was never denied alcohol or tobacco by his entourage. Every night was a party. Tess and I had front row seats to every concert. The energy started hours before the music started. You could hear the people thundering from outside the building. I never tired of hearing the same songs over and over. Those cords were always a pleasure.
Only one man tried to push himself on me. He was a roadie who had slipped into one of our parties. Johnny cut his tires, stole his clothes, and left him on a road in Phoenix.
Other than that, it was a non-stop party.
Johnny's humorous attempt to incorporate "work" into his tour was by auditioning a lead singer. Johnny had never had a talent or love for writing lyrics, and his record exec thought a pretty girl would appeal to a wider audience. My godfather hoped to accomplish both tasks with one person. Twice a week for three hours, I played piano while he watched a pretty girl sing. Most of them were very bad. Some passed for bearable. A few were bilingual. There was only one girl I really liked. She was a beauty from Puerto Rico named Soledad Lopez. Of the hundreds of applicants, she was the only one who spoke to me. She had a light to her… That spark that hypnotizes. I knew she was perfect.
Johnny required a bit of convincing. He was sleeping with another girl and wanted to hire her. I told him that girl was a bitch, and people would see that. Sleeping with a girl was one thing, but could he bring her on a tour bus? Could she attract an audience? Could he trust her with his business?
Towards the end of the tour, he hired Solie.
I reluctantly pulled myself together and returned to school. Too late I realized the real reason why my parents had sent me away. They wanted me to be young and wild for one last summer.