Fan-fucking-tastic. The bus to take him, Kitty, Avalanche, Bezerker and a bunch of other mutants back to Xavier’s also toted that red sunglasses asshole and his bitch-faced squeeze. And naturally they were sitting in the very last row, which until today has always been Wolverine’s rightful domain at any school blessed with his presence. That was where the alpha sat, it was high school law.
Well, fuck, he wasn’t going to change his ways now. Besides, once they were off campus if Shades wanted to rumble Wolverine was more than ready to throw down. He stalked down the aisle with ‘Zerker and ‘Lanche on his heels and flung himself into the seat across from the Pukey Power Couple.
His new buds had clued him in: Cyclops was quarterback, school darling, and a world class jerk-off. Red was Jean: head cheerleader, top striker on the soccer team, and an uber-bitch. Top of the social food chain at Mutant High, topping freaks and normals alike with their good looks and powers. Cyke had gotten off with a slap on the wrist earlier in the semester for blasting a guy from another school who’d dared to sack him during a football game. Jean got top marks by plucking the answers telepathically from the minds of the nerds in her classes and used her telekinesis to knock girls further down the social castes out of her way as she swished through the halls.
“Losers up front, runt,” grunted Cyke when he saw the new kid slouch into the sit opposite his.
“Go ahead, there’s a free spot behind the bus driver, One-Eye,” Wolverine taunted as the bus pulled out of the lot.
Zerker and Lanche nudged each other. They had a feeling the new guy was their kind of dude, and maybe someone long needed to shake up the established pecking order around here.
Cyke’s hand went to his shades, but Jean stayed his hand. “He’s not worth it, babe.” She favored Wolverine with a look usually reserved for clogged toilets.
“How do ya know until ya try, Red?” he leered appreciatively at her tits under her prim pink button up sweater. A chick like that had a white cotton bra on, no black lace that was for sure.
“Stay away from my girl, limp dick,” Cyke warned, his hand tightening around Jean’s waist.
“No problem, fuckface.” Wolverine grinned. “Uptight prudes aren’t my speed anyways. Unless she wants me to loosen her up.” He unleashed one claw and waggled it in a suggestive manner.
Jean gasped in fury and raised one hand to her head. Wolverine felt a sharp jab against his mind. This wasn’t his first dance with a telepath, but when they pried it was usually their last dance with him. Conjuring up a disgusting XXX rated image of Jean writhing under him on a pile of steaming garbage was enough to send her scurrying from his brain.
“Oh god, I’m going to vomit,” Jean gagged and buried her face in Cyke’s Polo shirt.
Cyke glared at the smaller teen and said low and threatening, “You gotta sleep sometime, pal.”
Half the bus was now watching them with undisguised glee. A fight on the way home was long overdue and much anticipated. Cyke and his little prom queen were reviled deeply by most of the mutants at Xavier’s, and they apparently had their hands full with the new kid with the crazy hair and attitude to spare.
“Didn’t know ya swung that way, Cyke,” Wolverine taunted. At the angry flush that spread over the jock’s face Zerker and Lanche high fived each other. Wolverine was definitely in.
“Fuck you,” Cyke muttered then turned his attention back to his girlfriend, who was turning green. The students who had overheard the exchange grinned at each other. Looked like the new kid was going to make life a helluva lot more interesting at Xavier’s. No on…NO ONE stood up to the Bully and the Bitch, as they were unaffectionately called behind their back.
Wolverine settled back in his seat, reassured he hadn’t lost his touch despite the rough start to the day. Yup, he’d be back in the driver’s seat of this shitty school in no time, just like all the other crapholes he’d lived through.
When he went to get off the bus, Cyke took a cheap shot and knocked him down the stairs. Wolverine tumbled, but managed to roll into a somersault and spring to his feet lightly and flicked out the claws. Kids gathered in a circle around the two boys as Cyke pushed Jean roughly to the side and raised his hand to his glasses.
“Enough” A sharp voice rang from the massive oak front door and through their minds. Wolverine saw an old man in a wheelchair. Nothing about him was particularly impressive, but for some reason the other students straightened up and headed for their dorms in an orderly fashion. “Summers,” the man said, “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Cyke said politely, “Yes sir. Coach wants me to step up my strength conditioning program. I’ll go to the gym.” He walked past Wolverine as if he wasn’t there and went inside. The bald man watched the bigger boy until he disappeared around a corner, then smiled at the surly faced teen.
“Please, come in Wolverine.” He turned his chair away and wheeled inside. Wolverine slouched behind him, scuffing his dirty boots along the polished floors as he followed the guy to his office. Turned out this was the famous Xavier, telepath and mutant philanthropist.A reall goody-two shoes.
He explained the workings of the Institute, breakfast and dinner times, facilities, rules, regs, policies, procedure and enough other bullshit to nearly bore Wolverine to tears. He was about to yawn openly when the man finally got his attention. “We have a full program of vocational classes and we require every student in residence to enroll in at least one. And a physical fitness course also. Here’s a list of your choices.”
Hmm, not algebra or literature, but something honest-to-god-get-yer-hands-dirty classes. He was cool with that. The automotive repair classes he skimmed right over, he could already strip anything with a motor down to part and put it back together blind-folded. Welding, computer programming, electrical repair, plumbing, cooking, construction.
Hmmmm, woodworking. Sounded not too boring. “That one,” he pointed to it as he pushed the paper back to Xavier. “Excellent. What do you hope to do with that particular skill?”
Wolverine sighed; he didn’t like being asked questions about what he did or wanted. He just wanted to, ok? Jeez. He settled for, “I dunno, sounds easy.”
“Well…alright. We also have a wide selection of physical education programs.” And he passed over another class list.
“I don’t do gym,” the boy huffed. He did not change in lockers rooms with a bunch of other guys, or those fucking stupid ass uniforms. No way.
“Not gym. Consider these more recreational if you prefer. Surely an active young man such as yourself doesn’t want to sit around all day playing video games.”
“Why, you got Xbox?” he leaned forward interested.
Xavier’s face soured slightly. “No, we do not.” He gestured to the list again, “Please.”
Wolverine huffed and looked over the list. The sooner he got this shit over with the sooner he could get out of here and get some grub. With no lunch his stomach was starting to eat itself and he could smell the kitchens in full swing. Fencing, horseback riding, swimming, aerobics, weight lifting…hmm, maybe. Rock climbing, cycling, tennis, bowling, golf. Christ how much shit do they offer here? Wait.
“Boxing.”
Xavier’s smooth forehead wrinkled slightly. “Are you sure? I think perhaps the tai chi class or softball classes could use more students.”
“Boxing, definitely.” Wolverine allowed himself a smile. Punching people was a good exercise, especially if it was sanctioned and wouldn’t land his ass in juvie again.
The man sighed, “Alright, you can start boxing class tomorrow, sublevel 1, training room 3, at 4pm twice a week. The woodworking class is held only on Saturdays at 1pm in the shop on the second level. Here’s your schedule.” Wolverine inspected it for a moment before crumpling it up and shoving it in his pocket. He stood, ready to head for chow when Xavier stopped him. “Not yet. If you would please relax, we need to determine where to house you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” The old man was starting to put off the creepy vibes. “What do I need to relax for?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t explain. With so many students here with a wide ranging of mutations, I like to scan people’s minds, with their permission of course, to determine which roommates would be most suitable. I prefer not to mix students who don’t get along. It saves on the repair bills.”
“Like me and Cyke?” Wolverine gave him a nasty grin.
Xavier paused to examine the feral young man’s fierce expression. “Quite. Now just sit still and try to relax. I won’t do more than scan the surface of your mind just to see which students your living habits might work with.” After a few moments, during which Wolverine deliberately projected a few nightmarish thoughts of what had happened to the last guy he’d had to bunk with along with a few fond memories of extensive property damage.
Xavier’s eyes flew open. “Right, the fifth floor. There are private rooms there for those students not compatible with…” Wolverine shot an eyebrow up at that remark, “I mean…students who aren’t as well socialized as they…” The eyebrow climbed dangerously close to his hairline. “Ah…those who need more personal space,” Xavier finished with a mild cough to conceal his embarrassment.
“Riiiiight, gotcha,” Wolverine smirked at the old man and strolled out the door. Sweet, a private room, he could get up to all sorts of trouble in privacy.
Don’t be so sure.
Wolverine turned at the sound of Xavier in his head and saw the telepath smile benignly at him as he projected a mental map of the mansion and directions to Wolverine’s new living space. Ok, so the old man wasn’t a fool. Ah well, there were ways to get around that sort of nosiness and he’d find them.
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Chapter End Notes:
another chapter will go up tonight :)