Fan Fiction ❯ Don't Kid a Kidder ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Don’t Kid a Kidder

by Rosy the Cat


Disclaimer: I do not own in any way, shape, or form own X-men and the
various comics titles and movies, etc.. They belong to Marvel. I do,
however, own in the creative sense Margaret Kidder, her family and any
other original characters I end up writing into this story. Steal
anything of mine without permission, and I’ll round up a lynch mob of
my fellow writers. This story was inspired by Gevaisa’s “Minion” and
“Lady Doom,” which both kick ass, as does she. Before anybody launches
any protests, she knows quite well what I’m doing and she’s probably
more excited about it than I am.


Chapter 2


*************************


July 1st, 2005:


Dear Diary,

My first thought when I finally got a look at the school from
the outside was “Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig...” The second thought was “How
expensive is this and how are my parents going to be expected to pay?!”
I must have said at least the second thought out loud or something,
because Dr. Grey responded by saying something about the school having
some rich backers and that “the Professor” inherited both the mansion
the school is in and a lot of money from his parents. Also, that they
had several students here for free because they’d been orphaned or ran
away when somebody overreacted to their being mutants. I pointed out
that I was neither, and that I simply was from a family with--in my
opinion--too many kids and not enough money. She didn’t seem to want
to talk about it anymore; that, or she knew nothing about the school’s
tuition plans.

Frankly, I’m worried by either of those ideas. On one hand, I
don’t want to be a charity case, even one of many. On the other hand,
I don’t want my parents to end up destitute because my mind has urges
to reach out and touch someone.

Anyway, financial questions aside, the school is very lovely.
There’s a good-sized river nearby, with some sandstone bluffs looking
out over it that make up part of the school’s property. It probably
looks amazing at sunset, though it could just be city-girl me being
dazzled by nature or something. There’re lots of trees, too: maple,
oak, pine, birch, and I think I spotted some that could be chestnuts.
Woods basically surround the entire compound, except for the front gate
and the river bluffs. There probably aren’t any walls by the bluffs
because it’s too sheer to climb or something. I think Grandma would
love it here, and Dr. Grey said something about there being stables on
the property. It wouldn’t be spending time with Starshine, but at
least I won’t get out of practice like I would if I were home. Gas is
pretty expensive, so actually using the van at all, much less the long
trip to see Grandma, is a rare thing reserved for Christmas, Easter,
birthdays--good thing Mom and Dad’s are so close together, and the Dweebs
are the same day--and, you know, rampaging psychos in the City.

God, I miss my parents. I haven’t been away from them for so long
since I quit Girl Scouts four years ago.

Anyway, it seems that, rather than getting two and a half months
or something off for summer, like I should, I’m starting my junior year
on Tuesday the 5th. It’s just my luck that I have a mental breakdown
just before finals of my sophomore year and get shuffled off to an all-
mutant school that’s on a Year Round schedule. Crap. I’m just glad
that my grades last “year” were good enough that I didn’t really need to
take the finals, otherwise who knows what I’d have to do.

All right, here’s how the school year works at Xavier’s: two and
a half months in school, followed by two weeks off. That’s an extra month
in school each year compared to conventional-scheduling schools, but more
frequent vacations and we’re guaranteed to be out of school for Christmas.
I suppose it’s pretty good because they don’t have to keep us extra days
into our vacations to make up for snow days.

Anyway, I’ve got to go: Dr. Grey wants to check how I’m coming on
learning how to shield my mind, and then bedtime. I think my roommates--I’m
in a triple-bed room--are supposed to be here either tomorrow or Sunday.

Oh, and Carnation is being a silly kitty, chasing a bit of loose
string that I unraveled from the bottoms of my pjs.

TTFN,

Margaret Kidder


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


July 2nd, 2005:


Dear Diary,

I got my schedule for the semester--something I forgot to mention
yesterday is that Xavier’s is on Semesters, like my old school, only we
have midterms right before our “Mid-term Breaks”, as it were, and Finals
before our Semester Breaks--and things look pretty good. I’ve got almost
everything I’d signed up for at my old school, though I’m rather annoyed
at the lack of some options. Xavier’s is woefully lacking in the arts,
quite frankly. Maybe that’s how Xavier keeps the costs down, but I think
I’m gonna go bonkers.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, my schedule. I’ve got AP Chemistry--
woo-hoo!--first thing in the morning with a Dr. McCoy. I think I used
an article by him as a source for a paper I wrote last semester in Biology;
it was for our unit on genetics. In other words, Science Class this year
should be interesting and informative. Then I’ve got Spanish 3, PE
(Horseback riding! YES!!! So glad I put off finishing my PE requirement
last year), English 3, Algebra 2, and U.S. History.

I predict much suffering on the part of my person due to a lack
of the arts...

Oh, I met one of my roommates today! Her name’s Kitty Pryde.
Our meeting went along something like this: I was doing some last bits
of unpacking clothes and Carnation was “supervising”...


Kitty: Hi! You must be the new girl!

Me: Umm, yeah, hi. Meg. Is me. And boy, this isn’t awkward at all...

Kitty: (laughed) No, it’s okay. I think I was worse when I first came
here, and that was a while ago. Cute cat.

Me: Yeah, he’s my widdle baby-kins; his name’s Carnation, just so you know
what to yell if he decides your bedspread or something looks better than
his scratching post.

Kitty: Carnation? Weird name for a cat.

Me: Well, my birthday’s two days after Valentine’s Day, and I got him
when I was twelve, and my dad had gotten my mom a bouquet of carnations
for the holiday. Captain Fuzzball here kept dive-bombing the flowers
until I took it as a sign and renamed him Carnation. Just as well, I
suppose; he wasn’t answering to Bilbo.

Kitty: Like “The Hobbit?”

Me: Yup. Need any help with your stuff?

Kitty: No, I’m fine. Come on, Lockheed.


Now, I swear, my soul to God, that a little pinkish/purplish dragon
followed her into the room. My life is officially weirder than I thought
possible. To make things even more surreal, Lockheed the dragon and Carnation
have now seemed to have settled into a semi-covert war over who gets to rule
the room. So far there have only been staring contests, but I suspect there
might be actual skirmishes in the long run.

Kitty found it all oddly amusing. I don’t know what to think, other
than I’d better not find my cat gutted or something equally violent some day
when I get back from classes.

There was, I admit, some potential for melodrama as Kitty and I were
getting ready for bed, but things turned out fine. It started when I spotted
the Star of David she wore...


Me: So you’re Jewish?

Kitty: (defensively) Yes. Why, is that a problem?

Me: No! Nonononono! I was just curious, is all.

Kitty: (mollified) Okay, then.

Me: I mean, *I’d* be Jewish too if my mom hadn’t become a Catholic before
she met and married my dad!

Kitty: So you’re, what, half-Jewish?

Me: More like half-Jewish as a nationality or something. Or would that be
half-Hebrew?

Kitty: I dunno.


So, with that over and done with, we both settled down with our
respective critters curled up on favored annoying pieces of anatomy, and I
started this entry. Which is over now.

TTFN,

Margaret Kidder


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


July 3rd, 2005:


Dear Diary,

Well, church was an interesting experience this week. I was the only
student from the school to go to the local parish church--apparently, if there’re
other Catholics at the school, they don’t make it a habit to attend Mass
regularly--though one of the teachers went, and Mr. Summers--that’s Dr. Grey’s
husband--drove us.

How to describe Mr. Wagner? To be honest, I reflexively grabbed my
crucifix and had a mini-spaz-out because he, quite frankly, looks like a
demon. He’s got yellow eyes, two toes on each foot, three fingers on each
hand, a long, pointy-tipped tail, elf ears, and blue fur over every bit of
his body I could see, which admittedly wasn’t much because he was wearing a
long summer-weight coat to cover up with.

It was when Mr. Wagner just sort of drooped at my gut-reaction,
followed by Mr. Summers giving me a pointed look--which came across despite
those weird red sunglasses--that I came to the conclusion Mr. Wagner probably
wasn’t a demon. I tried making up for it while we were in the car by mentioning
my “exorcism” experience, which seemed to relax the men-folk. Mr. Wagner
offered some of his own stories about his experiences with the Church, and I
told stories about the crazy nuns that ran the school I went to from
Kindergarten through Middle School.

Good times.

The church choir is pretty good, but it’s mostly old people--like,
between the ages of my two grandmothers--60s to 80s or something. Fortunately
there are a few other teenagers and younger grown-ups, so it wasn’t too awkward
to ask the director--her name is Sister Justine--about entrance auditions.
They turned out to not be that big a deal--just singing some scales and some
questions about my singing experience and range--and she told me that they
practice every Wednesday and Friday after evening Mass. I told her I’d love
to participate, and I’d get back to her on that once I found out if I could
get a regular ride to rehearsals.

I asked Mr. Summers; he said it was okay, and the school had an extra
car or two you can sign out to use. Thank goodness I actually bothered to take
Driver’s Ed Freshman Year, huh? I suppose this also means that technically
I could go and visit my parents on weekends and go to church there, but I
don’t like the idea of mooching the school’s gas and gas money, what with
it’s unknown source of income and all, and Father Frederick would probably
give me those freaky “You’re possessed by demons of the Pit! I know it!”
looks.

What else? Oh! Mine and Kitty’s other roommate showed up. Apparently
she’s pretty new too--she transferred in during mid-term break a few months back--
and her name is Sophia. She’s rather pretty; unfortunately for me and Kitty, she
knows it. She spent an unseemly long time primping in front of her mirror--which
she oh-so-POLITELY “asked” us to move to over her desk for her (biatch!)--and she
owns far more makeup then I know what is for what or does what. She also has a
pet king snake named Gustave, who unlike his owner is nice and kind of cute, in
a mottled pink-and-yellow, red-eyed way. I don’t think Sophia really likes
Gustave--which is a shame, because I’d like to have him for a pet, and Carnation
actually seems to like him--and that if she had a choice, she wouldn’t have him.
I think the Professor insisted on her having a snake for a pet so she could work
on her powers, which apparently are the ability to talk to snakes, like Harry
Potter and Voldemort. Supposedly she can also talk to pretty much any sort of
reptile, only to a lesser extent than with snakes, but Sophia just doesn’t seem
to appreciate it.

She could probably get a great job working in a zoo reptile house as their
specialized vet or something, but I think she’d have to get over her hang-ups on
things that aren’t “glamorous.” Kitty and I are pretty much in agreement that
Sophia is stuck-up and weird, though come to think of it these are two girls who
consist of one telepath with a cat named Carnation, and a girl who walks through
walls with a mini-dragon named Lockheed. And I found out about Kitty’s power
when she walked in from the bathroom straight through the closed door while I
was getting ready for church.

Why does everybody but me have cool powers?

TTFN,

Margaret Kidder


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


July 4th, 2005:


Dear Diary,

Today was pretty uneventful for a Fourth of July, though some Freshmen
did get in trouble for setting off the smoke alarm and fire-suppression sprinklers
in their room by playing with sparklers inside. Apparently it didn’t occur to
them that sparkler sparks and rugs are not good. They’ve got detention for the
rest of the week, starting tomorrow, and a bunch of their stuff got soaked and
they have to explain to their parents why they need replacements. Oddly enough,
I could easily see the Dweebs doing something stupid like that.

The fireworks that were set off over the campus earlier in the night
were really pretty. Kitty and I really enjoyed them, but Sophia kept complaining
about the idea of sitting on the grass outside because it would have stained her
skirt, and then she was complaining because her insanely high heels kept sinking
into the ground. She finally shut up for two seconds when some Senior chucked
a folding camp chair at her, but then she started in on how she chipped her nail
polish setting the chair up. Kitty suggested we move over a bit and park
ourselves on the picnic blanket Miss Munroe, who will be teaching Spanish to
both of us, had set up. She’s actually very nice, which is a good sign for
tomorrow.

For some reason I didn’t see Dr. Grey or some of the other teachers at
all today. I’m sure things are fine, though.

TTFN,

Margaret Kidder


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


July 5th, 2005:


Dear Diary,

Classes went pretty okay today, at least for the first part. Dr. McCoy is
really smart and knows his stuff very well; I’m so glad I checked out and studied
the Chemistry textbook at my old school last school year, because I probably would
have only gotten half of what he discussed in the class overview for the semester
otherwise. I think my classmates--there’s only six of us--were probably wishing
they’d done something like that, because they were all looking rather confused a
lot of the time. Or my shielding might have slipped for a bit, I’m not quite sure.
That’s a problem with my powers: sometimes if I slip a little--just a little, mind
you!--I can’t really tell because unless a thought is particularly loud, or blatantly
not-mine--guy voices, for example. At the time I just made a mental note to talk
to Dr. Grey after lunch and before Algebra 2.

Oh, I almost forgot: Dr. McCoy is big and furry and blue. I don’t think
it was quite as shocking as it could have been because I’d already met Mr. Wagner.

Spanish 3 was...interesting. I’ve always had an easier time with that
subject because my teachers in Elementary and Middle school insisted on everybody
learning Latin, and all of the church music I’ve sung over the years means it’s
rather rare when I get the pronunciation wrong. Unfortunately that doesn’t mean
much because Miss Munroe has an odd accent that throws off her own pronunciation
and confuses the rest of us. And that perception I know isn’t the result of a
wandering noggin, because Kitty--she sits next to me in that class--kept asking
Miss Munroe--though Kitty called her Ororo--to repeat herself, and everybody else
in the class acted like that was standard operating procedure.

After that was horseback riding, which I’ve looked forward to since I
signed up for it, but all we did was go over safety rules and how to groom our
horses and saddle them and put the bit to a bridle in. All of that was stuff
I’d known for years, and we didn’t even get to do any riding!

It looks like I’m going to have to get over my “stick your thumb in the
horse’s mouth” hang-up, though. My horse wouldn’t cooperate and just accept the
bit when it got near the mouth like Starshine does. Gross-a-roo!

English was English. We’re going to read “Huckleberry Finn” first.
I’m not so sure about that, personally, as I didn’t get very far into “Tom Sawyer”
before I got bored when I tried reading it on my own initiative a few years ago.

Lunch was pretty good. We had chicken patty sandwiches and french fries,
though the cafeteria people tried to make me take the yucky peas.

I hate peas. I ended up making myself a salad with lots of croutons.
It was pretty good.

Kitty and I sat with some girl named Marie and her boyfriend Bobby. I
don’t like Bobby; he’s too full of himself. Plus, he kept talking so long that
I didn’t get a chance to look for Dr. Grey before Math, which was annoying,
though it turned out to be a moot point.

After Math, classes were canceled for the rest of the day. On the one
hand, that stank because I love studying history, and on the other hand, it stunk
because of why classes were canceled.

Dr. Grey is dead. She was killed in New York Sunday night and the other
teachers that were there didn’t get in until lunchtime today, Xavier called me
into his office and told me, and that my choices for future training were him or
a Miss Frost. I felt really numb and stuff, but I managed to tell him that I’d
try with Miss Frost for a bit, and get back to him on the subject.

Poor Mr. Summers. The funeral is tomorrow, all classes are canceled until
next Monday, and as of now Mr. Summers’ classes are canceled indefinitely.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go curl up in bed, hug my cat, and
cry. A lot.

TTFN,

Margaret Kidder


*************************


Author’s Notes: Dedications and thank-yous and virtual snickerdoodles go to my
buddy/beta/continuity guru Gevaisa. And it’s official, “Kidder”’s sharing a
continuity with “Minion.” Huzzah!


-- Rosy the Cat

3/5/06