Gifted (3 page)

“I’ve already been to your leaders,” he said, and produced a final file that he seemed to have plucked out of nowhere. “And they gave me this.”

She tentatively took the folder from him and squinted in the dimness at the name on the upper tab.

“Tildie Soames? Who’s Tildie Soames?”

She flipped open the file and started reading. With each sentence she became more horrified, more distressed. The police reports, the psychiatric profiles, and the pictures, oh dear lord, the pictures filled with what was essentially a crime scene, blood and gore spattered everywhere. What must those people have felt when they died? What must they have thought? They couldn’t have had the slightest comprehension of what was happening to them, and the girl, God in heaven,
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the girl. It was astounding that she was something other than a complete basket case, curled up in the corner of a room having gone totally fetal.

“Right now, as we speak,” said this strange being who had just dropped into her life, “little Tildie is in a small, dark room. Isolated, talking to no one, fearing everything including, most particularly, herself. She’s the poster girl for post-traumatic stress disorder. She has no human contact because no human will get near her, for fear of ending up the way her father and mother did. That’s no way for anyone to live, much less a child. And as we both know, Doctor Rao,” and he showed what passed for teeth in his massive mouth, “we must think of the children.”

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SCOTT
Summers was dying.

He knew it. He could sense it with every fiber of his being. And yet, like a man trapped in a freight train that seemed to be derailing in slow motion, he was helpless to escape it or do anything about it.

Somebody help me. I don’t want to die alone
.

He looked to Hank McCoy, the Beast. Covered head to toe with blue fur, the intellectual and catlike McCoy was nattily attired in a custom-made dark-green suit and bow tie. His round glasses were perched on top of his snout. He was seated in one of the three chairs on the stage, holding the five-page speech that he had finished delivering minutes before. It had been a wonderfully irreverent discussion of the science curriculum, and it had absolutely engaged and delighted the audience. “Got them all warmed up for you,” Hank had whispered to Scott as he slid into his seat. Scott nodded and looked down apprehensively at the small stack of index cards he’d scribbled his notes onto. He’d thought that speaking more or less off the cuff might put the audience at ease…

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The audience. Scott looked out at them, staring up at him, waiting for him to say something, anything that would interest them. A sea of young faces, eager to learn what they could expect from their time at the school. The room was extremely large, with row upon row of seats set up for them. On the wall behind the speakers on the raised podium was a huge letter “X.”

Emma Frost, who had introduced Scott, was now seated in the chair Scott had vacated. She was clothed in her customarily provocative style, revealing considerable midriff and cleavage. Even her lipstick was white to match her clothing. She’d had no trouble holding the students’ attention…particularly the boys’. And then she’d turned the mike over to Scott and everything had gone to hell.

“I’m not quite as organized as Hank is,” he’d begun. “I thought I would speak more…X-temporaneously.”

He waited for the laughter. There was, instead, deathly silence, broken only by a forced chuckle here and there.

Are you done yet?
Emma’s voice sounded in his head.

Shut up
.

Technically I’m not talking
.

Shut up anyway
.

All right, then
.

He then proceeded to squander whatever good will Emma and Hank had built up for him with the students.

“First of all, I want you to know that if you have any questions, you can always come to me. There will be many confusing things that you will find…uhm…confusing.” He winced. At least his face was covered with a visor, specially created for him with a shield made of ruby-quartz
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crystal that contained the powerful beams in his eyes. “All of you are here,” he continued, “because you have an extra power or, if you will, X-tra power. That’s where the term X-Men comes from.”

A hand immediately shot up.

Scott was surprised. He hadn’t expected a question that quickly. “Yes, uhm…” He racked his brains, trying to remember. “Uhm…Julian?”

“Kevin,” the youngster corrected him.

“Right, Kevin. What’s your question?”

“I thought it was after Professor Xavier. You know: X-avier?”

“Actually, it’s pronounced Zavier. Like with a Z.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. Now, as I—”

Another hand shot up. “Yes, uh…Austin.”

“Dallas.”

“Yes, right, Dallas…”

“Is it pronounced Mag-nee-toe or Mag-net-oh?”

“The first one.”

Five more hands shot up.

Emma Frost rose slightly from her chair and said coolly, “Let’s save questions for the end of the talk.”

All the hands promptly went down.

Scott went on to discuss the proud history of the school…the hopes of Professor Xavier…the sorts of challenges they could be expected to face…the social responsibility of mutantkind…

And delivered all of it in an uncomfortable monotone that suggested he would rather be anywhere else doing anything else right now.

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The words continued to emerge from his mouth, but he could see the interest of the students flagging with every passing syllable. He wasn’t engaging them. He was coming across like a big stiff in a redtinted visor.

Finally, unable to endure it any longer, he said, “So, uh…if there are any questions now…?”

None were forthcoming. He glanced sidelong at Emma. Her face was an utter deadpan. He realized he couldn’t be sure whether the kids simply didn’t want to prolong the agony, or if Emma was beaming mental commands into their heads along the lines of,
If a single one of you asks one bloody question, you will not only regret you were born, you’ll
forget
you were born
.

“Well, okay then. Thank you for listening,” said Scott. There was a determined attempt at applause as Scott took his seat on the far right. Hank looked at him, face inscrutable. In a low voice, Scott leaned toward him and, indicating his index cards, said, “I had a whole section on civic pride. But I thought it’d be better to wrap it up.”

“Good call,” said Hank.

Emma had once again taken the podium. “Well,” she said, looking with mild irritation toward the empty seat awaiting an occupant who had not yet arrived, “it would seem the proceedings will be ending a bit earlier than—”

Suddenly there was a collective gasp as a young woman’s head emerged through the wall.

It was understandable. Most of the students had come from lives where they had been compelled to hide what they were. Letting on, even for an instant, that they were gifted with the mutant gene that
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made them Homo superior would be enough to target them for unending harassment. So suppressing any use of their powers had become second nature to many of them. As a result, they were not prepared for such casual demonstration of mutant abilities.

“Hi,” said the young woman. Her face had a distinct deer-in-the-headlights look to it as she eased the rest of her body into the room. “It’s possible that I’m late.”

“Quite so,” said Emma Frost, looking haughtily at her while gesturing toward the empty chair. Then Emma turned back to the audience. “This, children, is Kitty Pryde, who apparently feels the need to make a grand entrance.”

Kitty didn’t sit immediately. She was half a head shorter than Emma, but she squared her shoulders and made herself seem bigger, like a cat feeling threatened. “I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding at all sorry. Her gaze flickered up and down Emma’s revealing outfit. “I was busy remembering to put on all my clothes.”

There were loud hoots of laughter from the students, and this time even an annoyed stare from Emma’s icy blue eyes wasn’t quite able to contain it.

“So gushingly glad you could join us,” Emma said, and then turned back to the audience to make sure the last of the snickering was dying down. “Miss Pryde will be teaching advanced computational theory, as well as acting as a student advisor and liaison to the administrative staff.”

Scott leaned over and whispered to Kitty as she took her seat, “It’s great to see you.”

“Sorry about the timing,” she whispered back. “Did I miss the
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Sorting Hat?”

“Just my remarks, and Scott’s scintillating introduction speech,” said Hank.

Scott decided to take the comment in stride. “Even I was bored.”

Emma said to the students, “Since Professor Xavier is away on sabbatical, Mr. Summers and myself will be acting heads of school. Doctor McCoy and Miss Pryde will round out the senior staff along with Logan, who is…elsewhere.”

Kitty leaned toward Hank again. “What does she mean ‘elsewhere’?” she whispered.

“It means we’ve narrowed it down to ‘else.’”

They then realized that Emma had stopped speaking. Instead, she had turned around at the podium and was staring right at them. “Are we done?” she asked. “Or Miss Pryde, if you’re interested in directing any remarks to the students…?”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” said Kitty.

Emma nodded, then continued her remarks to the class. “Now, this is a place of learning. Not just about your mutant gifts, but about the world. Respect for your teachers, mutant and human alike, will be expected of all of you. Control of your powers. The safety of those around you, is of paramount importance. Violence of
any
kind will not be tolerated.”