The kindergarten you had attended had been made of a very small group of children, and all of them had known each other intimately. The majority of them were also far more than better off than you and it made it difficult to start conversations- not knowing what their parents did or the gravity of their jobs or what meringue was forced a rift between you and them. You liked to be by yourself after the first couple of weeks, finding it best to study your ABCs outside of judgmental eyes, pulling your nap-mat to the corner of the room. You always had vivid daydreams of brown-haired boys and blue girls with fire-truck-red hair, spinning their own stories behind your eyelids.
First-grade had begun and, chartered to the same richer area, you were once more alienated from the rest of the class. You began keeping a journal, writing down your dreams and your thoughts in big, loopy, simple letters, accompanying them with stick-figures. The teacher dubbed them your ‘imaginary friends’, but you knew better. She asked when you played with them, what they were like when they were around you. You had no answers for her, telling her honestly that you hadn’t met just yet.
You were sent to the counselor.
In second-grade, you knew to keep your mouth shut. You hadn’t thought it explicitly, but you knew that the other kids didn’t like your stories and they didn’t like your slices of peanut-butter and jelly. You had constant headaches, but you didn’t tell your dad, fearing that it would lead back to your ‘moments of disassociation’ (as the counselor had said, informing your father that you should see a therapist, of which you couldn’t afford). The teacher that year had issues keeping you awake- you preferred your dream-friends than her harsh voice over the class.
Third-grade was the year it seemed the whole world had come to a standstill. Your jeans had worn-down holes on the knees and your socks were basically non-existent, but every day you had the same flicker of images across your retinas, the brown-haired boy (a telepath, the visions told you, as an older you leaned forward on your elbows, frustrating him with his inability to read your mind) and the disguised blue girl walking into your classroom. “Transfer students,” A teacher, not the same one as this year, said, “Mrs. Xavier never told me she had a daughter, too!” It wouldn’t be this year that they sprung from your diary, no, it would be the next.
Charles Xavier walked into your fourth-grade class like he owned it, with Raven Darkhölme a calculated distance behind him, less enthusiastic and more hesitant. You recognized them, and it was like every breath you’d ever inhaled had been knocked out of your lungs. You couldn’t help but stare, the living proof that you weren’t as crazy as your teachers and parents thought. They were assigned seats far from yours, but that didn’t matter- you knew you could talk to them at recess and lunch.
Though you tried your hardest, you couldn’t pay attention to the lesson.
They sat apart from the class in the playground out back, more toward the fenced forest than the swing sets, where you usually sat. You swung your lunchbox back and forth, a shy smile forcing its way to your mouth. You hadn’t had much practice talking to anyone or making friends, but you knew these two, deep in your mind. Your sneakers, already dirt-covered, went unfazed as you went through the dried clay, closer to them. While it looked like Charles had been the first to look up, you knew Raven had spotted you first, as she scooted closer to him, frowning slightly.
“Hey, um, Raven, Charles.” Your voice was scratchy, unused and almost unfamiliar to your ears. You very rarely spoke, even at home, and you squinted, looking ahead for what you were supposed to say. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find anything, as the moment you were looking for was happening right before your eyes. You swung back and forth on your heels, awkwardly. “…Can I, er, sit here, with you guys?”
You see Charles curl his fingers around his head, attempting to nonchalantly read your mind, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. His eyebrows furrow and, caught off guard, loses some of his charisma. “Sure, sure, ‘course you can.” You fold your knees down, sitting on your ankles and putting your ‘lunch-box’ in front of you. Raven looks at you, a faint look of distrust on her face, and you remember seeing her being teased and bullied when you were younger.
Pulling out two sandwich-baggies, you put one in front of both of them, the bright-red marker on each of them distinguishing them from each other. You’d made them sandwiches last night, along with your lunch, making Charles’ a turkey-and-cheese (mayonnaise, not mustard) and Raven a peanut butter and jelly (strawberry, not grape) sandwich. It was strange, knowing so much about kids you’d just met today, but they were the closest thing you’d ever had to friends.
Raven splits the seam of the bag, looking in it and, just slightly, sniffs it. When she looks back up to you, her eyes flash yellow in the slightest, before she blinks them back to the emerald-color that she’d had before. Something sharply pokes your head, and you flinch, your fingers coming up to rub circles on it. Charles freezes, and you register that he’d been trying really hard to get into your head, and that the sensation had been mental, not physical.
“My name’s _.” You smile, pulling your own sandwich out, the only unmarked one. Charles examines the sandwich through the bag.
Automatically, he responds, “Lovely to meet you, _.” You knew how this would play out. Next would be Raven…
Raven, who had just as little experience with talking to people other than Charles, tried to politely further the conversation. “Nice… Weather today.” Just one glance at her ‘brother’ and she could tell something was wrong. Her trust was slightly reluctant, as she hoped that he would have informed her if you had bad intentions by now. She had finished half her sandwich very quickly, and paused only to speak to you.
"It’s gonna pour rain soon.” Though it was perfectly sunny at the very moment, you could see the two of them in their expensive outfits, coated in mud, about fifteen minutes from now. Raven finished off her sandwich, licking crumbs off of her fingers, and then looked to the sky. Just barely over the horizon, a pitch-black cloud loomed ominously. You put your uneaten sandwich back into its bag, sighing. You put it back into the picnic basket you’d loaned from your mom (the only thing you owned that could hold so much food), rolling back up to standing. You fumble through the basket, finding your umbrella, and keeping a hold on it.
You feel the sting against your mind again, and you frown, scanning your memories and your visions for what could block him out enough to keep him from poking at you. Taking deep breaths, you try and visualize a brick wall in between you and him, but you doubt it genuinely worked. Until Charles let out a frustrated sigh and leaned against the fence, ever so dramatically. Raven moves to fill in the conversation, the sandwich bag clutched in her fist. “I’m sorry about my brother, he’s usually nicer than this-“
You pull the umbrella out and open it, directly over her head. Mentally, you count down from ten and, when you reach one, the sunshower starts. She shrieks, shocked, but Charles tilts his head up in wonder, as you move the umbrella a little more to the side, to cover him as the rain moves toward him as well. The rain pelts you, making your clothes sticky and uncomfortable, but you can’t bring yourself to care too much. “It’s no biggie. I’ll keep making food until he’s nicer.” Raven gives you a half-smile that makes it look like she’s trying to hold in a laugh, while his eyes snap to yours, lips parted just slightly.
“Would you mind sitting with us tomorrow, then, _?” His voice shocks you, a far cry from its deeper semblance in the future, forcing another giggle out of you. You bite your lip and your eyes scan for the weather tomorrow, finding it to be another rainy day.
“We’ll be back in the cafeteria tomorrow- it’s going to rain and we all have assigned seats there.” You swipe some of the rain out from your eyes. “Maybe we can play Life or something during inside-recess.” You actually don’t think they have Life here- but you do recall several chess and checkers sets. Raven rocks on her heels, the other half of her smile lifting up, but she still looks to Charles.
“Do you want to, Charles?” You know how attached she is to him, but you can’t help but think about how limited her experiences must be, only knowing one person. She nudges him with her shoulder, and the yellow in her eyes flashes again, something you associate with her strong emotions.
“Of course, but I need to warn you,” A sparkle comes to his eyes, and he gives you a smile, “I always win.” You laugh, openly and a little too enthusiastically.
The next day, it rains straight through lunch and recess, and you beat Charles a consecutive three times in a game of chess- despite having never played it before.
-
You all became fast friends, partially through your lunches, though mostly because Charles’ curiosity of your mind. You’d never given away your little secret, even as you caught almost-dropped cups or gave them alternate directions according to traffic. Charles eventually came to accept it as a mere fact of life, you assumed, as his hands curled down and away from his head and he opened up to easier conversations. You slept over at his and Raven’s house frequently, your father remaining apathetic on that account, despite the fact that you often disappeared for days, sleeping beside Raven in her bed.
Through middle school, you’d developed an awful habit of keeping ‘in advance’ planners. Marking important dates in the future, it made it easier to keep track of everything when your mind was occupied on your Earth and Environmental exam. In big letters, in the planner marked “SOPHMORE YEAR”, you’d marked down October 12th for when he finally asked you about mutations. It was difficult to peg down the date, as he was always chickening out, pushing it days and days forward, but he’d planted his feet on that date.
You’d eagerly awaited the date and, when it came, you couldn’t help but doll yourself up the best you could. General-store makeup, hand-me-down dress, and many different hairstyles later, you felt on top of the world. You basically skip down to the Xavier household (more so mansion, but Charles always got uncomfortable when you talked about his insane wealth), and, when Raven opens the door, your mind is already halfway up the stairs.
You’re bouncing on your heels, a backpack full of your childhood drawings over your shoulder, and she doesn’t hesitate to giggle at you. “I’m happy to see you too, _. C’mon, Charles is upstairs, trying to impersonate Edgar Allen Poe, with his gloomy face to the window.” She laces your fingers together and the simple motion fills you with such a light feeling that you can’t help but sigh in contentment. There’s a pause, where she looks you up and down, a faint blush peeking through her cheeks. “You look nice, _. Is there something I should know about?” She starts to tug you up the wood stair case; her footsteps are light as she half-drags you to Charles’ room, the usual hangout.
With a smile, you reply, “Just felt like dressing up today, no big deal.”
You manage to make your way around her to knock at his door, a habit you’d never broken, despite his insistence that you were so close that there was no need. “Charles? Can we come in?” You hear the shuffling of papers, then a nervous throat-clearing.
“Of course, _. The door’s unlocked.” Raven opens the door from behind you, her hair tickling your neck and you swallow a little heavily. At the perfect distance for the door to swing open, Charles stands, holding a bundle of papers about ten or twelve pages long. You hadn’t bothered to count them when you saw him writing them- an entire paper to prove the reality of telepathy and a thesis on mutation from Homo sapiens. His hands shook slightly and, on impulse, you steadied them with your own, folding your hands underneath his. His Adam’s apple bobs and you realize that you may’ve agitated the situation a bit. “You may want to sit down. I have something I need to tell you.”
Raven’s happy demeanor immediately drops and you see her face contort into something resembling shock (with just the slightest of horror), and you can only imagine the thoughts she’s sending him. You make your way to Charles’ reading chair, by the window, waiting for the two of them to stop whispering about him outing her to you- which he wasn’t going to do, not unless you were extremely unbelieving. You know the argument would last at least ten minutes if you didn’t interject, so you lean forward, clearing your throat. “So, what’s so serious? I mean, so serious that you had to write a research paper on it…?” You nod to the collection of papers in his hand.
Charles pauses mid-syllable, turning to you, fingers flexing on the pages. He took a seat at the very edge of his bed, placing the essay to the side and resting his elbows on his knees. You can’t help but raise your eyebrows as his fingers rise to his temple, his only recent attempt to read your mind. His grunts when it fails yet again. “Well, _. I believe the most simple way to start this conversation is to ask a simple question. Do you believe that some humans are… different from others?”
You’d carefully crafted your response over the past days. “Of course, we’re all separate human beings. We’re all… unique.” You knew this put him slightly at ease, yet the topic wasn’t fully dropped. “… Is that all, Charles?”
“No, it’s not.” All of the things he’d been planning flew out of his mind, and he couldn’t help but sigh. Scrunching your eyebrows, you double-checked the next few moments, finding that they had changed from before. He begins to mutter to himself. “Individuals with extraordinary abilities… I was going to say something about individuals with extraordinary abilities…” He picks up the papers and shuffles them, a look of frustration on his features.
Raven rocked on her heels, seemingly torn between staying out of it and intervening. You knew, if she did, it would be a very direct approach, something you were never good at handling, no matter how much of a warning you had. “Be blunt, Charles.”
He looks up from the papers, combing his hair back from where it had fallen onto his forehead. His thumbnails dig into it a little and you see his chest rise and fall. “I read minds.” Gritting his teeth, he continued rapidly. “I know that seems very much so like a child’s imaginary superpower, but I can assure you I can read minds.”
You slip your feet out of your shoes and curls yourself up onto the reading chair, a smile playing at your lips. “Alright, cool.”
“No, I’m telling the truth- Pardon?” His chin tucks slightly and he raises an eyebrow, lips parting in shock. He was obviously expecting a lot of resistance, even though you were a very passive person to begin with. You move to let your backpack to the ground, then nuzzle further into the chair.
“You’ve never lied to me before,” You shrug, feigning ignorance for now. “Unless you decided to start today…?” You left the question hanging, laughing at how quickly his composure dropped as he moved to defend himself. You waved him off. Across the room, Raven had relaxed into the wall, breathing evenly. With a tiny hint of pride, you continued. “You’ve never read my mind before, though.”
He freezes, watching you with careful eyes, before his hand creeps up to the side of his face. You’d long since learned to bear through that stinging sensation that accompanied his more severe attempts of telepathy, and you threw up multiple walls into his way to make sure he wasn’t getting in. He grunts in acknowledgement, agreeing with your statement. “No, I have never read your mind before.”
“Not that he hasn’t tried. He just can’t seem to get in.” Raven rises from her relaxed stance, moving to sit beside Charles on the bed. She held a calculating look in her eye, her lips thinned. “…But how would you know that?”
You had dropped that hint knowing she would pick it up, but the fact that Charles hadn’t even noticed surprised you. Sitting up from your comfy position on the chair, you grin like you just won the lottery. “I have some ‘extraordinary abilities’ of my own, Raven.” You wag your eyebrows to lessen the serious atmosphere around the three of you. A returning smile slowly stretches across Raven’s face, and it’s like the stress just melted out of her.
Closing your eyes, you can briefly see Charles speak about how he and Raven aren’t alone anymore, to her displeasure. Saving the two of them that experience, you breach the topic yourself. “No, the two of you aren’t alone, just a little isolated, that’s all.” She pauses, then elbows Charles sharply, as if he’d been the one to divulge the secret.
He ignores her briefly, and then leans his elbows against his knees, looking closer at you. “Another telepath, just like me. Is that how you block me out?”
“No, that’s not my mutation.” Raven opens her mouth to speak, looking very uncomfortable, and you answer her unspoken question. “I’ve known about your shape-shifting abilities since we met, Raven, and you have nothing to worry about.” Rather dreamily, you sigh with a slight smile. “You’re just as pretty blue as you are in any other form, so you don’t have to force anything. I know your focus is only half on everything when you’re… would ‘shifted’ be a good verb?” You couldn’t recall what she’d described her mutation as in the future, but you hoped you’d said a good thing. You didn’t like having to constantly double-check what you said with the future.
There’s a long, tense pause, before, in a blur of blue scales and energy, Raven sits with her ankles crossed on the bed, a blue girl with fire-truck-red hair. Charles jumps, looking at her in shock. In a hushed voice, he chastises her. “Raven, put some clothes on.”
“She said I’m fine as I am, so why do I need to cover up?” For the first time, you can hear a stripe of anger in her voice.
As you did with most of their arguments, you jumped in. “She’s not even technically naked, Charles. Stop being such an old fart- don’t you think it’s hard for her to hide herself all the time?” She looks at you with a sort of adoration that makes your chest burn. “Charles, you do know I love you, but someone needs to call you out-“
“No, I did not know that, as a matter of fact.” His eyebrows are raised in suggestion, though there’s a grim seriousness in his eyes. He turns to Raven. “… Is it difficult for you to be… ‘shifted’… all the time?” He used the word you’d used earlier, between finger-quotations.
She stares at her lap for a long time, and you feel like her one moment of rebellion had already been spent. “Well, yes, it kinda is hard to… make sure everything is how it should look…” Her bare feet tap against the wood floor and you stand, moving to the bed.
You take a seat beside Charles, hip-to-hip. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand because your mutation is so easy to hide, but her mutation is very physical and you need to accept it as part-” He turns to face you and you’re taken aback by how close he is to you.
“You keep talking about mutations as if it isn’t just my hypothesis as to why we’re like… this. And we don’t even know about you- If you’re not like me, then what are you?” He’s derailed the conversation and you have to accept that he won’t go a step further down that road until later.
You sigh and unzip your backpack, rifling around for the pack of cards you’d stashed in there earlier. You set it in Raven’s hands instead of his waiting ones, to his surprise. You wanted to do this the right way- Raven might believe that he was projecting what the cards were if you gave them to him. “Shuffle the deck.” She nods and follows your instructions, then flips it over to see the cards.
“I’ve seen this trick before in the carnival- You’ll guess what card Raven picks, right?” Charles had turned briefly to watch her, but turns to look at you again.
“Sort of.” You give him a half-smile, and then turn your attention back to Raven. “Hide the cards from me and pull out the cards in whatever order you want.” You turn away from the both of them, leaning your back against Charles’s left shoulder. Closing your eyes, you set your mind’s eye over Raven’s shoulder, where she just looked down at the full deck. “Four of diamonds- Raven, you have to do a random order or you’ll never believe me.”
She leans over to show her cards to Charles as well, as you correctly call out the number and suit every time. Halfway through the deck, she stops, putting it to the side. “Wow, _. Just… Wow.” She starts to crawl over Charles to tap your shoulder, but you know she’ll slide and you quickly turn around to grab her by the shoulders, steadying her.
“Quite the psychic you are, _. We just chalked it up to grand intuition, but…” You’re caught up in your moment with Raven, so you don’t pay mind to him for the second.
“Woah there,” You smirk a little, laughing at your own inside joke, “Can’t have you falling for me just yet.” Charles clears his throat from underneath the two of you, and you push her back into her previous sitting position.
“And here I thought you loved me, _. Where is your fidelity?” He’s joking around with you, but he doesn’t know the true irony of his words. You laugh along him, but interject your own joke in there.
“I can love you both equally, don’t worry. I’ll have my share of practice.”