Thanks to hippiechick2112 and feathered moon wings for reviewing! About Charles's thought that Scott could stay on and teach English, I think that came off a little darker than I meant it to-it was more intended that the school is important to Charles and he thinks Scott would be happy as a part of it. Mostly as a contrast to Ororo, who isn't as settled.

After her conversation with Mr. Summers the previous day, Ororo no longer felt able to stay at home. She had been frustrated for a while that she felt like she couldn't leave home without her mother holding her hand, but having it said aloud—even by herself—turned it into a challenge.

She barely left the mansion, or at least the grounds. Every time, someone was with her. But she was fourteen! She had taken care of herself for years!

So she went for a walk into town. It was a lot further away than it seemed when someone was driving and Ororo considered pulling breezes to cool the weather around herself. The weather was blistering. She refused to do it, though. She had walked across the desert when she was only eleven! (Maybe twelve, she wasn't sure.)

New York in July was a miserable time for any activity and by the time she reached the town, Ororo's shirt was soaked with sweat. Her hair, too long and loose because she couldn't tie a ponytail one-handed, hung damp around her face.

She did not want to go into the library, so she waited outside. But it was so hot. Sweat soaked into her clothes and rolled down her arms and legs. It made the back of her knees itch, but her arm was worse. She itched under her cast.

Finally she sighed and stomped toward the door. At least she would be out of the direct sunlight.

Her eyes needed a moment to adjust. The library was well-lit for a building, but nothing against the sun. So she stood, blinking until some of the shadows took form. Then she stood a little longer because she did not know where to go.

"Hello there."

Ororo looked at the woman behind the desk. She was ancient, possibly the oldest person Ororo had ever seen, with wrinkles in her fragile skin. She had a pair of glasses hanging from a delicate chain around her neck.

"You're Scott's friend, aren't you?"

Ororo stepped nearer. "Yes. I wasn't looking for, um, any books or anything. I don't like to read. I mean, is he here?"

"He's here," the librarian confirmed. Even her voice sounded papery, though not weak. "He'll only be another minute. Now what do you mean by that, you don't like to read?"

"I don't enjoy it."

"Why is that?" She sounded genuinely confused, not challenging Ororo but trying to understand.

Ororo thought for a moment, because that was a difficult question and she felt it had been asked so respectfully she did not want to answer poorly. The librarian was easily one of the oldest people she had ever met. Being spoken to with respect by someone so mature was a shock. Ororo was meant to respect her, not the other way around!

"It's not real," she said, at last. "I'm reading something now and it only takes the most boring pieces of the world. All these dull letters and the main character is a solicitor. Which I think is some sort of bookkeeper."

There was something else she did not care for about reading. It was different when someone read to her. She could have simply interrupted Charles to ask what a solicitor was, but she didn't know how to introduce it into the conversation now.

"You can read pages and pages, and it's not written to be read. You read and then don't know what you read. Now some lady has, I don't know, tuberculosis I think."

She also liked the word 'tuberculosis'. It was fun to say.

"Lucy Westenra," the librarian said.

"Yes. How did you know?"

The woman only smiled in a way that was either smug or enigmatic. Before Ororo could decide which, an office door opened behind her and out stepped Scott. He paused when he saw Ororo.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said back.

Scott looked between Ororo and the librarian. He held his questions.

They made a stop after the library.

"What's your favorite junk food?" Scott asked.

Ororo shrugged.

"Would you rather have Coke or Bubble Up?"

Another shrug. "They're both okay."

"Snickers or Mars Bar?"

Shrug.

"How about Peanut Butter Cups?"

She stood up a little straighter and her eyes widened as she yelped, almost offended, "No!"

Scott laughed. "Well," he said, "everyone needs a favorite junk food. We'll have to figure out yours. Mind watching my bike?"

She didn't mind. Ororo waited with Scott's bike while he popped into the gas station. When he came out again, he handed her a brightly wrapped popsicle, then unwrapped one for himself.

They walked for a bit, sucking on disturbingly orange popsicles. She supposed he didn't care, but the color made Ororo suspicious. That was not natural. The outside was okay, but she didn't care for the way too sweet white bits.

"So why'd you come?" Scott asked.

By now the town was behind them, giving a sense of privacy. Neither of them assumed everyone was listening in, but there were things they did not want overheard on accident.

This wasn't about mutation, though.

"Just wanted to get out."

"Everything okay?"

"Fine. What do you do in the library all day?"

"Different things. Shelving books mostly."

"What's shelving books?"

"Every book that's been returned has to be put back on the shelves. I do a lot of that."

Ororo wrinkled her nose. That was what she had been jealous of? Scott spent time organizing the library? "Sounds boring."

"It's a challenge. I try to focus on putting the books away instead of being distracted by others I notice, but remember them so I can come back later. I'm really good with the Dewey decimal system now—that's the system by which books are organized."

Ororo rolled her eyes. She guessed she looked silly doing it. She felt the stickiness from her Popsicle and knew her face was orange. Nonetheless: "You're the world's biggest goody-two shoes."

"Thanks."

She sighed. "You're exacerbating!"

"What am I exacerbating?"

"Me!"

Scott looked puzzled for a moment. Then he laughed. "Exasperating!"

"What did I say?"

"Exacerbating. That means making something worse. Exasperating just means making someone want to punch you."

Ororo shifted her Popsicle stick to her left hand and used the right to punch Scott on the shoulder. She didn't punch hard, though.

"Wait, but then isn't exacerbating when you—"

"No, Ororo!"

She snickered. Scott knew exactly what she was suggesting and he went pink at the mention of it.

They had reached home by now, but still had a ways to go. The driveway was quite a walk. It was a lovely walk, she thought, both because it was shaded from the late afternoon sun and because of the view. The trees were so healthy and green!

They didn't speak for a while, just shared the experience. It was strange, Ororo thought, because she knew Scott was not having the same experience—he was off in his thoughts, probably thinking about his books back at the library. But he was a part of her experience and she was a part of his.

A truck rumbled past them, leaving the mansion. That would be the workmen, heading home for the day. Whatever was happening with the modifications, it was big news. (Just not news either Scott or Ororo was fully privy to.)

They passed Chris next. Ororo waved. "Hey, Mr. Summers."

She felt Scott twitch beside her.

Chris returned the wave. "Afternoon Ororo. Matthew."

"Good afternoon."

"Your mother was looking for you earlier," he continued, meaning Ororo.

"Can I help with the ship?" she asked.

Chris's expression answered the question before his words did. "Think you'd better see your mother first."

"Can Matty help?"

Softly, Scott told her, "I don't want to help with the ship—"

"You should," she replied. They spoke in low voices, their heads close together, but still it was crossing a line when she reasoned, "Nothing you do can change that he's—"

He jabbed an elbow into her ribs, aimed badly and hit something unexpected.

"Oh, I'm telling!"

Ororo bolted for the mansion. Scott only paused long enough to offer a polite goodbye before chasing after her. She reached the door first. The trouble was that unlike Hank or Charles, Ruth seemed to have no favorite part of the house. She seemed mildly indifferent even to her bedroom—but then it was no secret she rarely slept there.

So they found her missing from her classroom, missing from the sitting room (which she didn't like, anyway), and finally raced outside to find Ruth in the garden.

Although she had not grown up with siblings, Ororo knew how to tattle like a youngest child: "He groped me!"

"I did not, I hit you! Not hard," Scott added, realizing that 'I hit you' was not a very good defense. "I just sort of… missed. You can't grope with your elbow."

"You missed?" she retorted, incredulous. "They're not subtle!"

"Well, they're new."

Parts of this were true: Ororo had become rather curvier lately and she had been more comfortable with it, dressed more to accentuate it. Walked differently, carried herself differently.

That didn't stop her taking a swing at Scott. He let her.

Ruth raised her eyebrows. "Matthew, go inside."

He nodded and went.

Ruth gave Ororo a less than pleased look. "Do you want to tell me where you were?"

"I walked home with Scott," Ororo said. "We had Popsicles."

"You know you are not supposed to go out without telling someone."

The house rules remained pinned to the fridge, although they had been amended since they were initially written. Some rules were written after a particular incident (such as the one requiring a shirt and either pants or a skirt at the table, which Alex challenged by showing up in a skirt. Charles accepted this, since at least it wasn't boxers. That time, anyway.) while others simply reflected a change in focus.

The rule about telling an adult where you were going had more to do with the school. Scott tended to do this anyway, but he knew how to navigate the world. Ororo did not usually leave. With them, it was down to Ruth and Charles's discretion; not so with Doug and Laurie.

At what came next, Ororo's mouth fell open, she was so surprised. She had never heard those words before:

"You are grounded."

Well. She had heard them, but not meant for her.