Regenerate | X-Men/Avengers - Pt. 1

Ch. 10

I come to a halt in the doorway of his bedroom, taking in the chaos as he traverses his personal minefield while rambling on about Santa Monica and Palm Springs. When he notices I'm still standing in the doorway he gives me an impatient look.

"I have never been to your room before," I say.

He smiles devilishly. "Maids have been known to quit upon seeing my room."

Matt's lack of cleanliness is apparently a trait shared by his roommate, Dylan. Dylan isn't getting picked up until Wednesday, so he's lying in bed playing Nintendo. After an hour of enduring his exclamations at the device, I ask. "Dylan, what's your mutation?"

"He fixes toasters," answers Matt.

"Screw you, I did that once," retorts Dylan. "I'm a technopath."

Matt shrugs matter-of-factly. "Toaster-fixer. He can't fix a computer, but he can fix toasters. Not helpful at all. I don't even like toast."

"You like toaster strudels," mutters Dylan, "those are cooked in a toaster. And I can fix computers, you just won't let me."

"Yeah, cuz I don't want to get toast crumbs in between the keys." Matt drags a duffel out from under his bed. "They already have enough crap in them."

The town car pulls into the roundabout a minute before five thirty. A fresh round of hugs from emboldened girls and a meaningful "Good luck" from Summers, and Matt's ready to leave. I walk out onto the portico with him as the car navigates the drive.

"I'm going to miss you, Son."

"No kidding?"

When the driver parks and pops the trunk, Matt leans down and kisses me on the top of my head. "See you next fall, grumpy."

By mid-June I've exhausted the supply of books in the library. Fiction was my last resort, but every time I pick up a novel I can't get past the first page. Logan said I can continue Danger Room practice over the summer, and I have free access to the gym and the lake. A few electives like art and shop are ongoing, but none interest me.

Reluctantly outdoors, I'm sitting at a bench blandly observing the landscape when I hear Vince approaching. Seeing no convenient way to escape, I accept whatever's coming.

"You look bored." He sits down right next to me.

I hold back a sigh. "What do you want?"

"You know, there's only so much swimming you can take before you feel like a human raisin." He rubs the back of his hand on his jeans. "We should do something."

"I'm good, thanks."

He ignores me. "Let's put soap in the fountain."

"That would be fun for five minutes and then we'd be in detention again."

"Buzzkill. Five minutes is better than nothing." A sparrow lifts off nearby and he watches it go. "We could look for dead bodies in the mansion. I say we start with Logan's office."

"Oh no, he doesn't keep them there."

Vince laughs quietly. "Then let's find where he does keep them, or at least his stash of combs to keep that hairdo going."

"He combs his hair with his claws, how do you not know that?"

"Alright, alright." He tosses a miniscule scrap of paper onto the concrete. "Then let's just explore the mansion. It's huge, that's got to kill some time."

I shake my head and pull back my hair. "What have I got better to do?"

I underestimated how big the building actually is. After we venture past the uninhabited dorms we enter a no man's land of vacant corridors. Doors that blend in with the surrounding panels lead to forgotten classrooms and abandoned utility closets. Vince inspects all of them, even when there's nothing to be found but dusty desks and forlorn brooms. Matt would click his tongue after the first door and wander on with his hands in his pockets. Vince takes every opportunity to investigate, walking up and down desk aisles, reading left over notes on aging chalkboards. Even in the smallest closet, he'll duck his head in and look around as if expecting to find some clue or message left just for him.

We wander wordlessly. I become entranced by the flow of the wood grain in the flooring, the curves and loops like long, arboreal fingerprints. Vince cuts back and forth across my path jiggling doorknobs on both sides of the hall. I'm considering kneeling down to spread my hands over the smooth wood when Vince waves to get my attention.

"Over here," he whispers, pointing through an open door.

Looking in, I see a flight of stairs leading up to another door.

"Come up with me?" he asks.

The staircase leads to a typical stuffy gable. I walk over to the window to see if I can recognize where we are from outside, but all I can see past the eaves are treetops. Lifting the sash with some effort, I stick my head out. Ground level there's a narrow stretch of manicured lawn and a trimmed hedge, but it appears to be an area otherwise ignored. Beyond that stretches the seemingly endless acres of woods, dense and inviting.

"What's it look like?" Vince asks, crowding me at the window.

I climb out, bracing one foot against the lip of the storm gutter and gripping the eaves with both hands. Vince is close on my heels, and just as I've perched safely on the peak, he's made it up the slope too. I half expect him to continue on and explore the rest of the roof, but instead he settles down beside me.

The air isn't as humid up here. It's shady enough on this side of the roof to still feel like early morning, but warm enough to make one sleepy. I shift against the shingles and lean back. A breeze disturbs the endless treetops and Vince sighs peacefully. Closing my eyes, I brace my feet at angles so I can't accidentally slip off. I hear Vince copy my example as he leans back as well.

Another happy sigh. "What are we doing here?"

I open my eyes. "Do you want to get down?"

"No. Forget it." He yawns. "Ugh, I hate getting up early."

I'm dizzied by how close I am to the sky. It wants to eat me up, lift me off the roof, and float me back. The trees murmur under their breath before resuming straight faces.

"I'm here because it's not elsewhere." I readjust my feet. "This is also the first place that offered a room without me having to ask."

Vince turns his head. "I didn't really have a choice. I got arrested, pissed off a cop, and Xavier stepped in out of nowhere and got me sent here."

I raise an eyebrow. "May I ask what you got arrested for?"

"Coke. Not even possession, just 'intent to distribute.' Yeah, not a lot of rules were followed that day."

"So," I keep my voice mellow, like I'm just barely concerned about the topic, "you were part of a drug deal but didn't have any drugs on you?"

"My cousin took me along to his dealer buddy and that's when the cops showed up. I'd had the stuff before, didn't like it, and was too pale to make a good runner if you know what I mean. I thought if I took drugs it would...like it would kill brain cells, right? And I thought maybe I wouldn't have to hear people's thoughts anymore, you know?" He shakes his head. "It just made them worse. Don't tell anyone."

"I won't." I rest my elbows on my knees. "What were things like for you before your mutation?"

"Fuck off."

"I'm serious. I can't remember not being like this. I just wonder what it's like."

He rubs his eyes. "I don't know. It was quieter and less weird, but not much different."

The memory returns, fleeting, painful. I let my feelings ebb and flow until the static dims. "Did you ever hit him back?"

Vince jolts and looks at me, but I don't meet his eye. After debating with himself, he says, "Yeah. He left right after that."

Normally I wouldn't have given that up, but he knows why I did. Aching minutes slouch by.

"Let's not go back in," he says. "Let's just stay up here all day."

"It's going to get hot."

"We can take it."

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