Goodness, woman. I leave you alone for a few days and you not only make life-altering decisions but also manage a steamy make-out sesh with your former boyfriend's former best friend?

I had my appendix out a couple of years ago, and let me tell you, if I had known the kind of fun I could have had, I would have requested an airlift to Boston U.

I think that it's really admirable of you to want to use your powers to help people. Obviously being able to control your powers would have double benefits because then you could, like, have sex and make out with people all the time, and not just when you're in the hospital. But the fact that you want to use them to save the world? That makes you just about the coolest person in the world.

Sometimes I think I'd like a career that helps people. Right now at school they're making us do all these aptitude tests to see what we'd be good at, and it's weird because I've never really thought that much about what happens after high school, you know? That probably seems really stupid to you, cos you're obviously really smart and probably want to go to college and get a good job and THEN save the world, like on the side or something, but that's the thing. I'm not sure I'm that smart. I get okay grades, but I'm ALWAYS getting in trouble for talking in class or pulling stunts, and I've even been suspended a couple of times. I'm pretty sure universities don't take people who have been suspended for convincing almost the entire 10th grade class to break into a rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'" at exactly 9:16-inadvertently causing the whole school to hum it all day, and effectively driving our teachers crazy-right?

And ugh...I always assumed that Ben and Leah and I would go to the same college, but now that's totally not happening. Not because they aren't talking to me (though they pretty much aren't) or because I'm so sick of tripping over them in the hallway while they're making out (though I am). But because it's pretty dumb to make plans for the future based off of things like high school friendships, and if I was smart AT ALL, I probably would have figured that out a while ago.

And besides, even if I could get into a good college, I don't even know how I would pay for it. My Dad has been so stressed about money lately. Emma and I used to make fun of him, because he's always stressed about something. He'd say things like: "Someone turn off all these lights! We are in BIG financial trouble right now you guys!" or "Let's run the dishwasher in the middle of the night! If we don't cut down on energy costs, we'll be living in a box by the time you graduate!" He's just a bit extremist like that. Lately, instead of saying anything though, he just gets really quiet when the subject of money comes up. I guess it's just different because there's just his income, instead of his and my Mom's like it used to be.

You know what's worse? This isn't even what I'm upset about. It probably should be, you know, if I were normal and responsible instead of spazzy and boy-crazy. I've just been so floopy lately. So up and down. There are days I feel better, like when Emma and I hang out and talk and I feel like maybe things aren't so bad after all? And then I go to school and I just feel...ugh.

See, there's something I didn't tell you about New Years because at the time it didn't really matter, and also because it is kind of embarrassing.

But remember how I ran out the door at like 12:00:30, or whatever? I thought I was being so dramatic by writing it that way, right? Anyway, between the time I ran out and the time I got in the door, I was walking home. I was teetering on these stupid heels I thought it was a good idea to wear, and I was feeling incredibly sorry for myself because it was cold and I was alone and my jacket wasn't warm enough.

Then Jack (my friend from drama club, remember?) drove by me in his car and stopped. He tried to get me to come with him and said he would drive me home. But by that point I was so content with the idea of feeling sorry for myself that I told him to go away. Even though my feet were killing me and I was freezing. It was like I wanted to punish myself, or more likely, wanted to throw a pity party to rival the party I'd just been at, and a nice boy trying to help me was like the cops showing up to bust it.

I wasn't very nice to him at all. So when he drove off, I was able to hate myself a little bit more, because I was just a massive bitch to someone for NO REASON.

The worst thing is, even though I felt bad at the time, it didn't even occur to me to try to apologize it up to him. That is, until this week at drama rehearsal.

I haven't been going to rehearsal, for obvious reasons. But last Friday our drama teacher cornered me after school and asked me where I'd been. I made up a lame excuse about being really busy and babysitting my sister, but I could tell she wasn't buying it. She regarded me sternly for a moment, until I started to get really uncomfortable, and then she said, "'Tis now the summer of your youth; time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.'"

"Um," I said. "Okay."

"I expect to see you in rehearsal on Monday." Then she turned and swished down the hall. It was really weird. I had no idea why she said that. I mean, she doesn't even like me. I didn't think she'd even notice that I hadn't been showing up. I considered that maybe she had one of those disorders that causes you to say weird things, like Tourettes, except maybe it caused her to spout random Shakespeare at stray students?

I went home and I looked up the quote. It took me a while to find it since I couldn't remember exactly what she'd said. But it turns out it's not Shakespeare at all. It's this guy named Edward Moore who wrote a play called The Gamesters. I couldn't find a description of the play anywhere online, so I tried to read it from the beginning. I thought if I could read the play, I'd understand what she meant by it.

Except I couldn't understand what the heck was happening. And there's even a note from the author at the beginning of the play explaining how he basically dumbed down the language on purpose, so the audience could understand it.

I felt even stupider after reading that, and I spent most of the weekend in a sort of funk, frustrated at my intelligence, frustrated at life, frustrated at everyone. I wouldn't even look in the mirror. I couldn't stand the sight of myself.

And I went to rehearsal today and sat down next to Jack, and he got up and moved to another seat.

I guess he can't stand the sight of me either.

Anyway, this is a wholly depressing letter, and I don't think it's going to get much better. I hope things are going well, and I hope you get better soon. This virus you have does not good. Aside from the making out part, obviously. Let me know how it goes with Logan and John, okay?

Love and bubblegum,

Keltie

Dear Kitty and Jubilee,

Well, THANKS for the warning, guys!

Why did you have to tell Bobby I was sick? Why, why, why, why?

So, I'm just sitting in the hospital room, minding my own business. I've been reading up on mutations but so far haven't found much that I didn't already know. Anyway, because I've been stuck in the room with pretty much nothing to do but SIT or LIE or SLEEP, my legs have been getting really painful and it makes it difficult to sleep. I decided I was going to take a walk. Since they moved us to this new wing there's almost no one on our floor, so I didn't really care what I looked like.

I walked out the door, and BAM!

(You know how in How I Met Your Mother when Marshal goes "BAM! Lawyer-ed!"?)

Well, I was BAM! Iceman-ed.

Which sounds like it could be a pleasant experience, but when you haven't brushed your teeth since the night before and all you're wearing is yoga pants and a shirt that says "Yank These" with a picture of two baseballs that Scott bought as a joke, and your ex-boyfriend comes out of nowhere and pins you against a wall and starts running his hands through your hair and all over your body and is kissing you passionately and you suddenly realize that this IS a pleasant experience and it's a good thing no one is around UNTIL you see your much older teacher/mentor/sworn protector out of the corner of your eye...

Then it just feels like your best friends suck for not giving you more warning.

So, thanks for that.

-Rogue

ROGUE! LOOK AT THIS FAX! THIS IS VERY, VERY URGENT!

ROGUE!

BOBBY IS ON HIS WAY TO SEE YOU!

We're so sorry, Rogue, we tried to stop him!

WE TRIED NOT TO TELL HIM, BUT IT GOT OUT SOMEHOW!

Thanks to Jubilee.

WELL, IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE KITTY TOLD HIM ANYWAY!

And once he found out you were sick...

THAT WAS ALL KITTY.

Well, I hoped once he found out you were ill he wouldn't do something stupid.

LIKE HOP THE FIRST FLIGHT TO BOSTON-

Barge into your hospital room and-

ANNOUNCE HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR YOU-

Before stabbing John in the face-

AND VOWING VENGEANCE OVER YOUR DYING BODY-

Uh, Jubes, she's not dying!

WELL, SHE COULD! NO OFFENCE, ROGUE. BUT THAT WOULD MAKE A MUCH COOLER ENDING.

Call us if any of the above things happen. Although, please don't die. Because then you couldn't call!

Love,

JUBILEE and Kitty

Well, THAT was awkward.

I really don't know what you're talking about.

Seriously? Well, let me recap. First, you come on to me in a totally inappropriate manner. I gracefully but firmly reject your advances. Then, your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend, shows up, assaults you in the hallway and reveals that he made a HUGE mistake by breaking up with you and that it was only because he thought you were bored of him but now that you're dying of a horrible disease he wants to kiss and make out. AND all of this was witnessed by a feral man-beast, AKA our teacher, AKA the man you've harbored a not so subtle obsession with since he saved your life on one of America's most cherished landmarks, and cemented his place in your heart and consciousness. AND your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend, revealed that this disease we both suffer from not only has a name, but is also the reason for the increase in mysterious mutant deaths all over the globe, not to mention the death of the sister of a teammate we both know and love. AND THEN-after a delightful back and forth in which it was implied that your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend preferred boys to girls, and after it was implied that my mother is morbidly obese, and after it was (okay, I purposefully) implied that we were planning on eloping to Vegas and that you were pregnant with my child-after all that, the feral man-beast, the current love of your life, told your ex-boyfriend, my ex-friend, to turn right around and go back to school, because he didn't have the time to "baby-sit anymore of you brats".

Awkward, no?

Go away.

And I did not come on to you.

The fact that you latch onto that part of the entire scenario indicates that you enjoyed it more than you can say.

Dear Keltie,

Okay, first of all? You are not stupid. Would a stupid person be able to convince the entire sophomore class to break into song ALL at the same time? I don't think so. That is the sign of a highly intelligent individual, one who possesses leadership qualities, a creative mind, and most importantly, a sense of humor. Just imagining how your teachers must have reacted to that stunt cheered me up immensely today, and I definitely needed it.

Second of all, Jack is an idiot. I take back everything I said about him sounding hot. He sounds like a tool, and you can do WAY better.

Although, I mean. It wouldn't hurt to apologize to him. Not that I don't TOTALLY understand why you would want to walk home in the freezing cold in painful shoes rather than get a ride with him, but apologies never hurt. Maybe he was just having a bad day today?

Please don't be sad. It makes me sad to hear you so bummed out. I wish you were here so I could give you a hug and make you feel better.

I feel so helpless because I don't know what to say to make you feel better. I feel entirely helpless in general. I feel like a gigantic sigh is just permanently lodged in my lungs, lately. What a pair we make, huh?

After that whole escapade with John, I was pretty much feeling like nothing more could surprise me. Nuclear bomb from Canada? Whatever. The eligious right declaring that gay marriage is A-OK? No biggie.

But I didn't expect Bobby showing up and kissing me out of nowhere. That definitely shocked me. And of course, because my life is some kind of reality show, guess who happened to turn the corner after that?

That would be Logan, coming to bring me your letter and make sure John and I weren't getting into trouble.

It was terribly awkward, as you can imagine, and while Logan was telling Bobby to go home, Bobby was trying to explain to me that he didn't dump me because of my mutation, but because I didn't seem interested in him anymore, and blah blah blah. And of course, John had to get out of bed and see what was going on. The resulting stare down would have been very intimidating-if John hadn't been in his hospital gown. And Bobby hadn't been sending me sideways glances with these horrible puppy-dog eyes.

They exchanged some words and Bobby said some things about John's mom and implied that I was a slut (only because it was Bobby, it was a lot more along the lines of "You are a moderately promiscuous female, who on occasion stands on street corners.")

Logan got tired of this, popped his claws, and told Bobby to go home.

He left relatively quickly after that.

But not before he told us that we were going to die. Not like he threatened to kill us. He just told us some stuff about the Legacy Virus. I guess that's what it's called, this thing we have. Logan tried to get him to shut up, but I grabbed his arm and made him tell me what he knew.

Basically, it doesn't look good. AT ALL. And even worse, apparently Bobby overheard a discussion about the possibility that a certain metalhead we all know and loathe is trying to obtain samples of this virus, so he can reverse it and infect humans instead of mutants. Lovely, right? Like we don't already have enough freaking problems on our plates.

Anyway, I'm not going to get into it because both of us are already depressed enough.

You know what would cheer you up? Writing me another letter. This has the added bonus of cheering ME up.

Love and emo pop songs,

Rogue

Rogue,

Please call me. 555-4532

Bobby.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

It's Rogue. What's up?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Rogue, I love you. Please tell me there's nothing going on between you and John?

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

Is that all you care about? In case you don't remember, I'm possibly DYING from a serious disease.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

You didn't answer the question.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

You dumped me, remember?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

I thought that was what you wanted! I told you that the other night. You never seemed interested in being my girlfriend. And then you just ran off to Boston...

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

I didn't "run off to Boston". I came to Boston after you dumped me. To help Scott. Our teacher?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

And now your cavorting with The Enemy, and getting yourself sick!

To: Bobby
From: (555-2953)

Because I totally wanted to get the Legacy Virus! Just to spite you. John isn't the enemy, Bobby. And there is no "cavorting" to speak of.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

What is going on between you two?

To: Bobby
From: (555-2953)

He's hot, passionate, and controlling. Especially when it comes to the remote control.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Be serious.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

Nothing, Bobby! What do you think? We're both sick. It's an exciting day when we get to watch the Family Guy instead of The Golden Girls. But it's not even any of your business, because you dumped me!

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

I didn't dump you! Is something going on with Logan then?

To: Bobby
From: (555-2953)

Oh my God.

I'm ending this conversation.

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Please don't, I want to keep talking about this. Whose phone is this?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Rogue?

To: (555-2953)
From: Bobby

Please, Rogue, just talk to me.

To: Bobby (555-4532)
From: (555-2953)

You had better be back at school, Popsicle, or you won't live to see your graduation day.

-Logan

Rogue,

I'm writing another letter to you because I think I've had an epiphany. Even though I haven't received a response from my last letter, I really need to tell you about this.

The last time I wrote, I was really upset and honestly feeling as low as I've felt since New Years Eve. i.e: As low as the lowdown on the lowest part of Lowtown.

After I got back from posting your letter, I moped around the house, feeling sorry for myself. My Dad came home from work, saw me sitting upside down on the couch, morosely, and snapped.

"Katelyn Elizabeth Matthews," he yelled. "I am sick and tired of coming home and finding you lying around, looking like a farmhouse of puppies has burned to the ground and the President announced an embargo on Toberones. Get off that g-d couch and go to your room! And when you come down for dinner, you had better have a smile on your face!"

I looked at him upside-down, not used to seeing my (normally kind, calm) father in such a state. He appeared to be quite serious, so I somersaulted backwards off the couch, and stomped up to my room. Secretly, I was pleased. If I had my way, I'd stay in my room until school was done and I could leave for college.

I know, I know. I'm pathetic. But don't worry, it gets better. Emma came up to check on me, and, to my deep shock and surprise, cheered me up immensely. She told me that she'd scored really well on these standardized tests she had to take at school, and was being moved up to the gifted class. She's scored almost 100% in the area of 'emotional intelligence'.

You'd think it would make me feel worse, that my little sister is probably smarter (and probably less socially inept) than I am or will ever be, but it didn't. I was just so proud of her. She gets really anxious about school and what her friends think and stuff, to the point where she sometimes throws up if she has to do a presentation or something in class.

"Keltie," she told me, looking down at her lap. "I'm worried that people are going to pick on me for being in the loser class."

"What people?" She shrugged. "Emma, the only thing that matters is what you think. Be a leader, not a follower, and don't let other people get in the way of your success."

Then it was like in one of those cartoons, and a lightbulb went off above my head.

I learned in psychology class that some people can be addicted to emotions almost the same way drug addicts are addicted to drugs. So like, you can be addicted to adrenaline so you go jump out of planes or helicopters, and there are also people who get addicted to being angry or feeling sorry for themselves because it sends this rush of chemicals to your brain in the same way that drugs do. I think I might be one of those people. I think I'm addicted to feeling sorry for myself.

After Emma left, I turned my computer on and I went back to the quote from my drama teacher. I re-read the scene it was from. I'm still not sure I understand it entirely, but it sounds like there is a girl, and her husband has gambled away all their money, and cheated on her a bunch. Her husband's friend goes to her and tells her that she doesn't deserve to be treated that way, that she is still young and beautiful ("'Tis now the summer of your youth; time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them") and has a lot to offer.

Then he comes on to her and offers to kill her husband. Which I HOPE wasn't the point my drama teacher was trying to make, but regardless. I think I get it. And thus, time for my epiphany:

This whole thing with Ben and Leah is not the end of the world.

You're probably thinking: Obviously. And really, it is obvious. And I did know that before, but it was like the other night it just HIT ME. That I'm turning myself into a victim here. That Ben and Leah aren't purposefully trying to exclude me, and that I have a lot of other friends. That I was isolating myself, because it was easier to fit that into my tiny view of how the world is out to get me. That I'm still in the summer of MY youth, and there is less than no point wasting it moping around about this.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the night on the internet, reading the play and trying to understand it, and looking up stuff about this Edward Moore guy. I even wrote down the quote in a little notebook, so I don't forget it.

Then I started thinking, about the things that I'm really good at, and one of those things is elaborate schemes. So I started plotting, and figuring out logistics, and by the next morning I'd come up with a plan that will rival my other stunts times, like, a million. I even figured out the perfect co-conspirators: Jack and this girl Kennedy who also works on the play with us.

Then I remembered the last time I saw Jack, and it occurred to me that I hadn't properly talked to him since that awful night. I started feeling paralyzed by doubt...but I tried to shake it off and decided I would just have to apologize.

It turned out it wasn't quite as simple as that. My stomach was full of butterflies all day, but fortunately this distracted me from the disturbing sight of Ben and Leah practically having sex against my locker.

I walked into rehearsal and sat down next to Jack, like I always used to. He didn't look up from the script, but he didn't get up and move, either. I nudged him. "Hey," I said. "I have an idea." He glanced at me, but only for a second, then he turned back to the script. I nudged him again. Finally he put the script down and looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"Look," I said, in what I hoped was a contrite tone. "I'm sorry." He continued to look at me, as if to say, 'Is that all?'

"I'm really sorry," I added. "I was a huge bitch on New Years and you didn't deserve that."

He shook his head at me. "I don't care about New Years, Keltie."

I was confused. "You don't?"

"Not really. I just don't understand why you've basically disappeared off the face of whatever planet you live on."

I shrugged. "I've been going through some stuff." It was the lamest excuse ever, and I could tell by the look on his face that he thought so too.

"Some stuff," he repeated. "Does it have anything to do with that?" He nodded his head toward the stage. It was the kissing scene. Of course.

I swallowed, and forced myself to turn away, to face him. "No," I lied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Some family stuff. But it's sorted now."

The look he gave me told me he didn't believe me for a second, but he didn't turn back to the script. "What's this idea?"

I grinned. "It's great. Better than "Don't Stop Believin'." And there's virtually no chance it can be traced back to us, which is good because I can't afford to get suspended again."

"Are you going to tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?"

"Depends. Does this mean you forgive me?"

"You going to disappear again?"

I shook my head. He regarded me carefully for another moment, then turned back to the script. "Good. Because this shit is intolerable without company."

I leaned back in my chair, a smile on my face, figuring that was good enough for now.

I showed him the plans I'd drawn up, after Kennedy showed up and took over the script. He was skeptical at first, but when I explained the concept, he agreed it was pretty epic.

I'm not going to tell you what the plan is yet, because there's a chance that this letter could be intercepted. But don't worry, you'll hear about it soon enough.

I've got to go now, because rehearsal is almost over. I'm going to check the mailbox on the way out, to see if you've written back yet. I hope nothing too exciting has happened, because my hand hurts and I'm not sure I could manage another reply right away.

Are you proud of me though? I think I'm growing. I still need to convince Jack that he can trust me, and hopefully I can pull off this stunt without getting suspended (or arrested) and hopefully figure out what to do with the rest of my life, but it's a start.

Love and scented markers,

Keltie

P.S. Okay, I couldn't help but open your letter as soon as I got it, and I needed to add this to the end before I drop it off at the post office.

Um, wow? Bobby showing up and declaring his undying love! Logan walking in on you two making up! An Iceman/Pyro staredown! Promise me you'll write a book someday, okay? I'm almost embarrassed to send you this letter now, but I'm going to because I know you will kill me if I don't and because I can't not share this with you. At this point I feel like you might know me better than anyone.

I just need to know one more thing: How did Logan react? Was he angry at Bobby? Jealous? Ambilivalent? I need details!

And just how serious is this disease? Legacy is a weird name for a virus. I always thought legacies were good things, like money or heirlooms or something? I'm going to ask my Dad if he's ever heard anything about it tonight. Is that okay? I hope that's okay.

:)

Dearest Rogue,

It seems as though you've gotten a bit confused. Never fear, sugar, we're here to help. We understand that it's been a while since you've had...ahem...physical contact, with the opposite sex. However, we'd like to remind you that Good Southern Ladies should not make a habit of necking with gentlemen.

Remember, Rogue. A Good Southern Lady always keeps her cards close to her chest. A Good Southern Lady always distinguishes between her suitors and ensures that they do not come into contact with each other.

A Good Southern Lady does not make out with two friends (or former friends) after breaking up with her boyfriend.

If a Good Southern Lady does decide to disregard the above advice, she tries to remain discreet about such dalliances. She is especially careful not to let other potential suitors witness said indiscretions.

A Good Southern Lady doesn't want to come off as desperate, after all.

Bless your heart, you'll figure it out yet!

Society for the Preservation of Good Southern Manners.