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 1

June 6th, 2005:

Dear Diary,

I've been hearing voices again. Nothing distinct, just vague murmurs in the back of my mind that you can occasionally tell are either male or female. I haven't said anything about it to Mom or Dad yet, as the last time Father Fredrick convinced them I was possessed and needed to be exorcised. I'm pretty sure I'm not, because I'm not having any weird impulses to stop wearing my cross or to not go to church or to skip my prayers. I'm pretty sure that those are the sorts of signs of possession they give in movies about that sort of thing. I certainly didn't feel any different after the last exorcism, other than tired and having to deal with bruises from where the priests holding me down just in case pushed too hard, and the headache I got from all of that incense they burned. Of course, the voices stopped that time a few days later. Maybe they'll go away again.

Michelle Mitchell--and how freaky are her parents for coming up with such a stupid name--was being her usual cranky self today in choir. Apparently her oh-so-mature hair-pulling boyfriend broke up with her so he could date some poor deluded freshman. Apparently he did too good a job at skank-ify-ing Michelle and is trying to set a record.

And people wonder why I don't date.

Well, here's hoping for better things. Crap, it's getting late, and I have review tests for Biology tomorrow!


Margaret Kidder

June 7th, 2005:

Dear Diary,

I'm pretty sure I aced the Bio review, as it was almost all about human skeletal and musculature identification. Go team me!

Michelle spent an annoyingly large chunk of the class period yapping about how much over she was her boyfriend, and then proving herself a liar by ignoring the music and staring like a goggle-eyed carp at the guy, who was across the room with the baritones. The only reason why she didn't spend the entire period this way is because Miss Finch told her to focus on the music or get detention. It didn't really improve things all that much, because Michelle has all of the sense of tone and rhythm of a dying rabbit. I wish I'd made the auditions into the advanced choir, but I can't dance worth beans and that's rather important for a show choir. Thank God for church choir, even if there are far too many diva personalities there.

That reminds me: Sister Helen is holding auditions for solos next week after church. I think I've made some real progress on my rendition of Beethoven's "Joy," so I might actually have a shot!

The voices are following the same pattern as last time: they're getting a bit louder. I still can't understand what they're saying, but I'm getting kind of worried; I think they're being louder than they were on the second day last time. I wish it would all just stop and go away.


Margaret Kidder

June 9th, 2005:

Dear Diary,

Sorry I skipped writing yesterday, but that Venom nutcase was rumored to be in the area, so all of the schools were closed and the Parental Types dragged me and the Dweeb Patrol out of the city to stay with Grandma Kidder. I would have written during the ride out here, but I had a bonehead moment and packed you in my duffle instead of my backpack. Just as well, I suppose; the triplets probably would have done something stupid like grab you and read you out loud if they'd got the chance.

Why did my parents decide reproducing some more was a good idea again? Their reasoning eluded me at the time, and it still is rather suspect.

Anyway, after I did most of my homework I went out to the barn and hung out with The Girls. Bessie's new calves are rather adorable--a boy and a girl-
and Starshine's canter has smoothed out since her surgery. In all likelihood the schools will stay closed through the weekend, which is good because I haven't had a real chance to ride in the longest time, and I could use the quiet to study some more. The Dweebs have taken to wandering around and terrorizing the chickens, and Grandma says the potholes in the riding trail have been fixed. Yay!

On a side note, the voices seem to leave me alone entirely when it's just me and the critters. I predict I acquire further tolerance to the smell of manure, as I can get some actual thinking done out there.


Margaret Kidder

June 30th, 2005:

Dear Diary,

My life sucks donkey turds. Things have gone completely bonkers since I last wrote, so this is gonna have to be a rather long entry.

First of all, the voices? I was right and Father Fredrick was wrong: I'm not possessed, I'm a mutant. A telepathic mutant. Crazy, huh? Actually, now that I know what's going on, it's kind of cool. Except, of course, for the part where my control is wacky and I'm stuck at some all-mutant school, even though I was doing fine at my old one. I mean it's not like I sprouted horns or turned blue or anything! I could have stayed at my school and, I don't know, come out here on the weekends to learn how to keep other people out of my noggin. Mr. Xavier...sorry, "Professor" Xavier--where does he think he works, a college?--is a total weirdo. I mean, I suppose he's nice enough, and he has good intentions, but...

Sorry, I got sidetracked by my mini-rant. I need to explain what's been going on.

So, yeah, the day after my last entry I spent most of the time out riding Starshine and exploring the woods. I haven't done something like that in years, but then again school and homework and choir and keeping the Dweebs from doing something stupid has kind of devoured my free time. It's amazing how peaceful it is when the only voice in your head is you own, I tell you. People who are neither me nor have powers like mine have no idea how lucky they are. I mean, your own mental voices can be confusing enough as they are—the subconscious is not quite the same as the conscious, m'kay?—but then add in all sorts of other people, and things go from confusing to psycho. Not fun.

Now, after my day of fun in the sun and quiet, I got back to the house and WHAM! Instead of the usual murmuring and stuff, it's like I've got my entire family screaming—the sound level was screaming, they were actually just regular thinking—in my head. And let me tell you, the triplets? Their thoughts are freaky as it is, and then you multiply that times three because they have that whole "shared a womb, finish each other's thoughts" thing that you hear about twins having.

So, I started screaming and trying to cover my ears and hide under the dining room table because I had no freakin' clue what was going on. And then it was getting even worse because my parents and grandma are scared, so their thoughts are panicky-y and even louder, and the Dweebs are alternating between thinking I'm a freak or that their greatest wish has come true and I'll be locked up in a nut-house or that it was something they did and they'll get in trouble. Grandma finally decided to be a tad more sensible and sent the Dweebs to get Dr. Bowers from down the road. Shortly after they got back and Dad managed to hold me down long enough to get a sedative in me, I conked out.

The next thing I knew, I was in some weird hospital room with a bald guy and a redheaded woman staring at me like a bug on a slide. Me being the completely freaked-out person I was at that point, I demanded to know where I was, who they were, and where my parents were. That would have been fine, reasonable, and intelligent, if I hadn't done so in a high-pitched screechy tone with a side of panicked eyes.

Hey, you would have too if you suddenly woke up in a strange place with strange people and nobody you knew was around. I'm sixteen, I'm allowed to be less than perfectly composed. I'm also allowed to want my mommy, thank you very much.

So, the bald guy introduces himself as "Professor" Charles Xavier, and tells me how he runs a school for mutants, that I'm a mutant, and that he found me using some machine/computer/monstrosity—that last one's my definition, by the way—called Cerebro that makes his brain able to pinpoint mutants. Personally I think that's a very scary concept, but he didn't get why I thought it was scary. He's a telepath, like me—supposedly the most powerful one on the planet—and he was being rather rude. All the while he was telling me that story, he was yakking away with the redhead, whose name is apparently Jean. Dr. Jean Grey; I remembered seeing her on TV a couple of times at mutant debates in D.C..

Anyway, as I was saying, I'm lying there trying to focus on what Xavier's saying and on not being a spaz, at least until I can see my parents again, and suddenly I can hear two rather distinct voices in my head. The conversation was like this:

Male Voice: You have spoken with her parents, I take it?

Female Voice: Yes. They're scared, but taking it all remarkably well.

Male Voice: You are certain they will agree for her to stay here? She'll need training.

Female Voice: Undoubtedly. That attack of hers you picked up through Cerebro was quite violent, and they're mainly just relieved that there isn't anything wrong with her. Apparently she's had problems before, but a priest incorrectly diagnosed it as a demonic possession.

Male Voice: Honestly! Some people come up with the silliest explanations for scientifically explainable phenomenon!

Female Voice: In any case, the preliminary tests and reading indicate she'll be moderately powerful, at least. Also, her grades are good, and she apparently didn't have many, if any, friends at her old school, so that should make it an easier transition for her transfer here.

Male Voice: Indeed.

My Voice: SAY WHAT!

It was at that point that they realized the incredulous look on my face had nothing to do with what they had been saying out loud. Now it's been almost three weeks, and I've been working with either Dr. Grey or Xavier. Dr. Grey's apparently both telepathic and telekinetic, which is cool. If she ever has a medical problem with her hands being too shaky to do surgery by hand, she could probably do it by holding a scalpel with her powers, as long as nobody distracted her. She gave me a weird look when I mentioned that, though.

I'd like to be a doctor when I grow up. I know I've said it before, but Dr. Grey proves it's possible, as long as I can get my powers under control and study hard. I'd need to get a scholarship or three—and work part-time—in order to pay for college and med school, but it's quite possible. Heck, my powers could end up being an advantage: I could use them to find out what hurts where and that sort of thing with people who can't talk. That could be useful if I were a pediatrician, and I've always liked working with kids, the Dweebs being the exception. I think the main problem would be not cheating on tests and stuff; that would be a temptation to resist for sure. If I prove that the daughter of a blue-collar worker and granddaughter of a farmer can be a doctor, then I'm gonna do it by my own skills and knowledge, damn it.

I wish my parents had talked to me before signing me up for this school, though. My old school might not have been all that great, but I was only a couple weeks away from the end of Sophomore year and at least there the principal didn't give me looks that seem to say "So what can I use you for?"

Like I said earlier: Xavier is a complete and utter weirdo.

Well, I've still got some unpacking to do; Mom and Dad have been shipping out some of my things for my room here because otherwise I'd be living out of my weekend duffle bag and backpack. Dr. Grey says that she'll show me around the school tomorrow and introduce me to some of the other kids that are staying the summer. I get the impression that the kids who are not me and staying the summer are doing so because their parents kicked them out, whereas I'm here so I can learn how to keep everybody else out of my brain without having to get sedatives shoved into my bloodstream. Fun.


On the upside of things, Carnation arrived with my boxes of books and toy horse collection. I think I actually love my cat even more than before: his brain doesn't try and invade mine. Dr. Grey says it's okay for me to keep him here as long as he's house-trained, neutered, and stays in my room when I'm not with him. He's already the first two, but the third shouldn't be too hard as long as whoever my roommates are don't let him get out. I think they're gonna be back from visiting their parents in a week or so; this school just let out for the summer.


Margaret Kidder

Author's Notes: Well, that was the first chapter. So, what do you think?