Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters

The School

My alarm flashes 7:25. I stifle a groan and smack the clock. Grabbing a faded t-shirt and a pair of jeans I speed walk across the hall to the girls bathrooms. As soon as I push against the door I am engulfed by mixed smells of perfume that make my head spin. Girls of all sizes are occupying the sinks; putting on lipstick and drying their hair. I push past them and force myself into one of the bathroom stalls. I wriggle out of my pjs and slip into my clothes then sneak out of the stall; dodging in and out of bodies to my locker. I spin the lock and fling it open, shove my pajamas onto the top shelf and grab my hairbrush. I run it through, toss it back in and grab my book bag, slamming the locker door behind it.

I sneak a look in the mirror on my way out. In my reflection, I see thin, hazel eyes, a tan nose, and dark blonde hair cascading over my shoulders. I still look like a little kid, even though I turned fifteen sometime last month.

Once I'm outside I make my way to my first and most torturous class; literature. As I slip in, first girl as always, I unpack my journal and look at today's prompt.

The question on the whiteboard reads, "What is normal?"

If you had asked me eight years ago, I would have said that normal is what everyone has in common. But this is now. Now I know that normal is an illusion.

My name is Lila. I'm a 15 year old mutant and this is my story.