The rest of the day was spent wandering around the grounds, people watching. I’d done a lot of people watching in the off-and-on eight months I’d been on the road alone. Out of necessity, I’d become a good judge of character. Within ten minutes of walking into a bar I could usually tell which drivers were safe to ask for rides and which ones I needed to steer clear of altogether. Of course, my judgment wasn’t flawless. I’d been proven wrong more than once.
After a while, I grew tired, so I found a comfortable niche for myself near the busiest section of the park. If anyone saw me through the leaves I’m sure I must’ve looked strange sitting in that tree, which I had long ago dubbed my thinking tree. It gave them something else to discuss about me at least.
From my perch, I had a perfect view of the basketball court where the boys from yesterday were setting up a game of two-on-two. I was close enough to hear their conversation.
“All right,” Flea said, “Me and Streak versus Artie and Rett. Powers allowed.”
Artie shook his head in response to that.
“Aw, don’t be such a pussy. We can use powers.”
Artie relented with a shrug, taking the basketball from Flea and checking it to him. Mockingly, Artie stuck out his blue, forked tongue.
“Keep it in your mouth, Maddicks. No one wants to see that,” Flea responded, bouncing the ball back.
Dribbling slowly in place, Artie kept his focus on Flea. Artie’s face was in profile, but there was no missing the orange-yellow glow that his eyes were emitting. About to lunge for the steal, Flea stopped dead in his tracks. Artie made a break for the hoop, easily weaving around his unusually still opponent. Since Streak and Rett were busy gawking, the lane was wide open for Artie to sink an easy lay-up. Artie pumped on fist in the air to congratulate himself. He brought his arm down suddenly, pain scrunching up his face. When he opened his eyes again, the glow was gone.
Soon after, Flea was able to shake off his temporary paralysis. He pressed his palm to his forehead and rubbed it hard. “Ow, man. I forgot you could do that. No more. Damn.”
Artie, who had been massaging his own forehead, nodded in agreement.
“Do we still get the points?” Rett asked, speaking up for the first time.
Two fingers was Artie’s voice of concurrence.
“Yeah, all right, you can have the points. But you only got them ’cause Streak’s worthless.”
“Hey, screw you. I forgot, too.” Glaring, Streak grabbed the ball from Artie and went to the top of the key to take it out, Rett guarding him.
“Whatever, dude. Let’s just win this.” Flea backpedaled toward the basket, Artie right with him.
Streak forcefully passed the ball to an empty spot behind Rett. Streak used his power – I didn’t know what it was, super speed or teleportation – and ended up at the exact angle to stop his own pass. Flea broke away from Artie, and Streak threw him the ball. Flea jumped, did a back flip, and dunked the ball in the hoop. Upon landing, he bounced into a one-armed handstand, then from it to a front flip. I’d seen gymnastic moves before, but that was just not natural. No normal human could’ve done it. Despite my annoyance at Flea, I found myself impressed.
Artie gave a fake yawn.
“I believe this is yours,” Flea said cordially, picking up the ball and handing it off to Artie.
Dribbling up a little ways, Artie put his arms to set up for an overhead pass. Flea knocked the ball out of his hands. Streak was there in a heartbeat. But before he could get a handle on the ball, Rett appeared beside him. He pushed Streak out of the way with his shoulder and got the ball. He dribbled it to the basket with no opposition, as the other three boys had taken up gawking again. Rett banked an easy shot and did two back flips in celebration.
“Dude,” Flea said finally. “How many powers do you have?”
That’s what I wanted to know. I made a mental note to ask the Professor.
Below me, someone sneezed loudly.
“Bless you,” I said automatically, looking down through the branches at the girl who’d sat down at the foot of the tree without me noticing. She was probably around Rett’s age and probably just as new.
“Thank you,” she replied. Then went back to writing in the open notebook on her lap, not paying me anymore heed. Fine with me. I didn’t really feel like talking to anyone.
I turned my attention back to the boys in time to see Storm reach them. “You have detentions to serve,” she informed the boys, arms crossed over her chest.
“I did not do it,” Flea proclaimed. “It was all Rett.”
Rett seemed hurt by Flea’s casual disloyalty. I could almost remember – something about the school before and an art project. They’d said he’d copied, but it hadn’t been intentional…The stolen memory was gone before I could really see it. I allowed it to slip out of my awareness without protest. Some things just weren’t any of my business.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Travis. I know you put him up to it. You’re lucky you’re all getting the same punishment instead of yours being worse. Let’s go. Dan, pick up the basketball and put it away. Thank you.” Storm turned around and led the boys inside. I couldn’t help smirking at Flea’s scowl. Served him right.
The girl tilted her head back. “Why are you so happy he’s getting in trouble?”
“Pardon?”
“That boy. He’s really mad and you’re happy about it. How come?”
“Uh. Well. The reason he’s getting into trouble is because he was being a jerk to me, so, you know.”
“Oh. Okay. I was just wondering.”
I wasn’t finished with the conversation. “You couldn’t see me from down there. How’d you know I was happy about it?”
She shrugged. “I can always tell what other people are feeling.”
“You’re new, right?”
“Yes. I was supposed to start next semester, but my mom is on her honeymoon, so she and my stepdad sent me here early instead of leaving me with a nanny,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“I see. What’s your name?”
“Nicole Reis-Steeves.”
“I’m Rogue.”
“Is it okay if I sit down here? I know you want to be alone. I won’t bother you.”
Leaning back, I replied, “Be my guest. It’s not my tree,” even though I thought of it as mine.
“Thank you.”
True to her word, Nicole didn’t say anything to me the whole time she and I were out there. I didn’t keep track of the time or my thoughts, really. Nor did I stir until my stomach growled to inform me it was dinnertime. Joints popping, I stood up on the branch and carefully made my way to the ground.
Stretching some more, I told Nicole, “I’m going to get some dinner. Wanna come?”
Nicole shook her head, saying, “I’m not hungry right now. But thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied somewhat formally. “See you around.”
“I hope you feel better,” she called after me.
Knowing a little about suffering other people’s emotions myself, I felt bad about having subjected her to my own. It was refreshing to meet someone in that junior high age range who was both incredibly polite and amazingly sympathetic. Had I been in her position, I probably would’ve thrown my shoe up at her and told her to get over herself.
Other people’s self-pity is always annoying. For her sake and my own, I resolved to be done with that and start over with optimism. I was giving myself way too much credit if I thought that every single kid at the school invested the amount energy it would take to actually hate me. Talk about me behind my back? Certainly. Hate me? Shun me? That was narcissistic masochism rearing its two ugly heads. It wasn’t realistic.
To test that theory, once I got my dinner I headed over to a table of a group of girls about my age. “Hi, Sierra,” I said to the blond one who’d been my lab partner a couple times in chemistry. “Is this seat taken?”
Sierra glanced at her friends quizzically, saying, “No, go ahead.”
Smiling my gratitude, I took the chair beside her. I ate quickly while they discussed how slutty Tara Fawver had become. I had only the vaguest clue who Tara Fawver was, but I made the appropriate faces and laughed at the appropriate times anyway. Eventually they found out that I hadn’t heard what had happened last week. They were delighted, as it meant that they could tell me themselves.
“Oh my God, it was so funny,” the one who’d told me she turned seventeen tomorrow gushed. “So, me, Sierra, and Tiff were just walking to the library ’cause I had a book that was, like, a month overdue, right? Anyway, we hear this noise – ”
“This moaning noise,” Sierra snickered.
“Yeah, hardcore moaning. So we stop, no idea where it was coming from. That exact moment, Cyclops turns his fine ass down that same hallway and hears that same noise. He asked us what it was but we were all like, ‘How should we know?’ Finally, he hits what we thought was just a wall and it slides open. There was Tara Fawver full-on going down on Jesus Christ.”
“On who?”
“Jesus. You know, JC, Jake Coolidge. The guy who can walk on water?”
“Oh, I get it. Isn’t that blasphemy?”
“Probably. Anyway. So, yeah. Cyclops was pissed. Pissed. You know how he’s been since Dr. Grey died and everything.”
“Mel, you forgot the best part,” Tiffany put in.
“Getting there.” Mel snickered and leaned across the table closer to me, “JC’s dick? Thirteen inches long. I kid you not.”
“No way,” I said.
“I’m serious. The thing was monstrous. Tara is such a size queen. It must’ve taken him two minutes, tops, to convince her to do him practically in the hallway. What a skank. They’re not even dating. Supposedly she still has a boyfriend back in Whoresville or wherever she’s from.”
The hypocrisy innate in the fact that I, the same girl who’d been feeling sorry for herself all day because her classmates were spreading rumors about her, was now bonding with said classmates over the vicious slander of another’s integrity was not lost on me. Taking my last bite of chicken, I wiped my mouth on my napkin and stood up before they could come up with another charming anecdote to share. Part of me was interested in Tara’s sexual escapades just for the shock value. I wasn’t too impressed with myself for that.
“Thanks for letting me sit here, but I gotta get going.”
“Oh, okay. See you later, Rogue.”
While not a total disaster, I was not looking forward to sharing my meals with them again. Beggars can’t be choosers, so I was glad Kitty and Jubilee were getting back tomorrow afternoon. When they resorted to gossip for conversation, at least they were shrewd about it.
But, hey, at least I’d proven that the world doesn’t in fact revolve around me. Good thing to figure out, if you actually want to realistically live it in.