Starchild

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

Charles Xavier stops by my side. —Hello, Peter. —he then nods in my direction, —Good morning, Star, it's good to see you. —

—Thank you for inviting me. —

He smiles. —Thank you for coming. —noticing Maximoff speaking with a girl, looking at something in her book, Xavier calls him out, —Peter? —his ears perk up, listening to the professor, —Don't you have somewhere to be? —

Peter frowns, —...No? —he thinks for a moment, but cannot seem to find an answer. —What day is it? —

—Saturday, ten past nine. —the girl replies,

—Oh. —

He's gone in a second, almost making some children fall to the ground. They laugh, however, staring in awe at the path he leaves. The girl shakes her head and nods Xavier a goodbye, leaving to do her own thing.

Xavier chuckles. —Peter's very forgetful. —he starts to wheel away, —Follow me, Star. —

Watching him lead the way, everyone else moves out of his path, greeting him in one way or another. Some of them smile at me, too, as I walk by his side, probably aware that I'm not from around here.

Even though there appears to be many students in the building, their thoughts are barely whispers.

—This was my family's home. —Xavier begins, —It was after our first mission as the X-Men that it became a sanctuary for mutants, at first secret, but now public. Some kids are sent by their parents, some come here by themselves, and we protect those that aren't accepted by their families. —he grins at someone in front of us, —Good morning, Jean. —

I immediately wave at her as she walks past, —Morning, professor. Star. —

—Shouldn't she be in class? —

He shakes his head. —Each student decides how they want to attend classes. —interesting... —They can choose a minimum of two free days per week, and they're welcome to take any classes they want, unless they're recommended a specific one. Jean's free days are the weekends, but if she could she'd take classes everyday. —

Jean definitely looks like a person who likes learning; the way she speaks, the way she acts, and even the way she disappears at the end of the hallway reminds me of Asgard's intellectuals. The school's teachings must be good to satisfy a girl like her.

Xavier stops by an open door, letting me take a look inside the classroom. —This is world history. Hello everyone! —

When the ten or so students turn to us, or most specifically to me, I awkwardly shift. Jubilee is in the class, excitedly waving at me with a big grin which I reciprocate. Finally, Xavier apologizes to the teacher for interrupting and we continue our walk.

—You're interested in human history, aren't you? —he asks, not making it a big deal,

I look at him in obviousness. I can tell what he's trying to do. —Are you showing me classes I might like? —

He shrugs. —Perhaps. —now in front of another door, this time closed, he motions me to look through its window. —This is physics, with Mr. Maximoff. —

Oh, he's a teacher. Inside, the class - which mostly consists of older students - curiously stands in a circle around Peter, Kurt, and a girl I don't know. The three of them are holding devices. Then, they count down, and when they reach zero Peter runs to the opposite wall, where Kurt also appears. They start comparing the devices, which I suppose are clocks, as another boy writes down the results on a board.

It's an experiment. I love those. The metal sound of wheels makes me realize Xavier has almost left the hall and I run to him.

—There's also a theatre class, if you're into that. —

Father would absolutely love that, but I think I have had enough theatre for one lifetime. —I prefer drawing. —

—We have a club for that too. —he stops at a corner, and points around, —All classes happen here, on the first floor. Dorms are on the second floor, and the third floor is mostly used as a resting place. The library is in the third level, —he turns to a pair of opened doors, different from the rest, —And this is the lunch room. Both accessible at all times. —

Xavier invites me inside, where many tables are placed symmetrically, some filled with kids eating together. It's a bright room; two of its walls are covered in windows, facing the school's green backyard, where other classes appear to be happening. He leads us to where the food is, calling it a "buffet" - different dishes are separated in boxes and they all look like something Wong would give me for breakfast.

McCoy is standing in front of some bread, evaluating a decision. He distractedly whispers to Xavier a good morning but doesn't seem to notice me.

—Tea? —the professor points at a jar, and I nod.

Quickly, and pushing a lever, he fills two cups with the drink. He keeps one for himself and hands me the other one, —Thank you. —

Now walking to the windows, we stand looking outside for a few silent minutes.

Not very far, on what appears to be a floor of cement, I recognise Ororo for her white hair. She's standing in front of a boy whose hands are shining. After a moment, electricity comes out of his hands, and Ororo smiles. When the sparks stop, the small group of kids surrounding them applaud.

—Power management. —Xavier explains, —Many children come here unable to handle their mutation. We help them control it and achieve their best performance. But I suppose you control your powers perfectly fine? —

I drink some of the tea, and nod. —Yes, as far as I know. —

—You could help students with their powers, since you have such a diversity of them. —

He's very sure of himself. I raise an eyebrow at him, —I haven't said I will attend yet. —

With an amused smile, he turns around. —Let's go to my office. —

Leaving the cups on a table, we leave - it must mean the tour is over. We walk back through the hallways, which are now a little emptier, until we get to a corner he hadn't shown me before. The door is a different colour from the others (dark blue, in fact) and a silver X hangs in the middle of it. Definitely can't miss it.

Entering the room, the first thing I notice is the smell of books. Behind his desk, bookshelves are filled to the brim. I can tell there's history all over the office; portraits, old cups, awards, and some children's drawings nailed to a board, next to letters that appear important.

—Please, have a seat. —he places himself on his side of the desk, and I sit on one of the two cushions opposite to him.

In silence, we stare at each other. There's an interesting glint in his eye.

—What would I do here? —

He smiles as the conversation starts. —Many things, if you want to. —he leans to the side, counting with his fingers, —Learn, teach, meet new friends, and perhaps a family. —he shrugs. —Find yourself, in case you haven't yet. I'm pretty sure you're around the age of discovery. —

The age of discovery.

I tilt my head, as it starts to sound more interesting, —Nothing in exchange? —

He shakes his head. —Nothing. Unless you want to offer something, which is always welcomed, of course. —

Opening a drawer, he brings out a paper and a pen, placing them in front of me. Quickly eyeing them, I realize it's meant to be filled with information; things like my name, my date and place of birth, any important contacts, and the classes I would be interested in. It's serious. He's being serious. Should I accept?

—I will help you out in everything I can. It's a deal. —

There's nothing I could lose.

He nods, —A deal. —

Leaning forward, he puts his hand out, which I shake.

—Welcome to the school. —