1 January

Floor.n.1. that part of a room, hallway, or the like, that forms its lower enclosing surface and upon which one walks 2. a continuous supporting structure extending horizontally throughout a building, having a number of rooms, apartments, or the like, and constituting one level or stage in the structure; story 3. a level, supporting surface in any structure 4. one of two or more layers of material composing a floor 5.a platform or prepared level area for a particular use -v. 1.to cover or furnish with a floor 2. to bring down to the floor or ground; knock down 3.to overwhelm; defeat 4.to confound or puzzle; nonplus 5. to push a foot-operated accelerator all the way down to the floor of the vehicle, for maximum speed or power

The story was that she had moved to New York during the winter holidays. People move all of the time, with or without reason. Usually the pretenses were ignored by the masses, usually having to do with lack of interest more than anything. If more people understood the underlying reasons of Anna Marie's sudden enrollment, suspicions and rumors would fly around like mosquitoes on a summer day.

The girl herself wasn't exactly what one would call normal: she had two stark white streaks growing from the crown of her skull whilst the rest of her hair was a dark auburn tinged brown; her personality wasn't shy, so to speak, but she did appear to be afraid of human contact on a physical level; and she tended to be flighty or uninterested when normalcy would dictate differently. She also didn't have anyone to claim as family. Her motherly figure had given up on Anna Marie's particular problems and shunted her off to the home in which she now stayed. The building itself was spectacular, but the people it housed were just as confounding as their newest resident.

"Come, child, you're just in time for the New Years celebrations," the headmaster of the secondary school invited her warmly. Anna Marie, more often referred to as Rogue, had finally situated herself in a bedroom to call her own during her long stay. It took her a couple days to adjust to the thought that she'd be living with people her age, as well as a place where she could be as alone as she wanted, and it left her completely dizzy. Things in her life were taking a very sharp turn and she felt as if she were losing control.

"Ah dunno if Ah'm ready ta do any celebrations right now, professor," Rogue replied. "Ah'm still adjustin' ta all this an' all-"

"Nonsense!" a rather burly boy exclaimed. He padded up to Rogue, grabbing her gently around the shoulders. Rogue instinctually cringed away, but her efforts weren't a match for the boisterous boy's advances. "The best way to adjust is to emerse yourself, and what better way of doing so than partaking in a New Year's party?"

Rogue frowned to herself. "Slowly."

"We have a minute until New Years!" a new voice cried excitedly. His brown eyes were glued to the television screen as he bounced in place. Others were crowded around him to get a good view of the ball dropping in New York's Time Square. Rogue knew that a lot of children resided in this house, but it appeared to be a genuine party inside of that room.

The forthcoming boy removed the pressure from Rogue's shoulders once they were inside the room. He must have expected her to follow, because when she stopped short in her tracks, he turned right back around to look at her. "We won't hurt you," he stated blatantly.

"Ah ... Ah know. Ah'm afraid Ah'm gonna hurt you. Ah'm just not ready for this. Ah'm sorry!"

Her excuse was made, her newcomer's panic was in place. Rogue turned straight around and darted for the door. She whisked past the professor in the wheelchair, down the hallway, and through her door. She was safe inside her room. She couldn't touch anyone inside her room.

She hadn't even calmed herself down when a loud cheer broke through the wooden barrier of her walls. A quick glance to the clock confirmed it: it was officially a new year. Why couldn't she be as excited as everyone else? Tiptoeing up to the side of her bed, she sat beside it on the floor, craning her neck to stare at the clock as the last zero flicked into a one. It wasn't that she didn't want to socialize, but she didn't want her special powers getting in the way ...

A knock sounded on her door. Looking up from the clock, Rogue figured that it would be the same boy from before standing on the other side. "Go away!" she shouted despite her growing loneliness. "Ah already told you, ah-"

"I ain't Hank," the other called back, breaking into her speech.


The knob turned and another, much scrawnier boy stepped inside. His hair was nearly the same color as Rogue's, she observed, but because of the main light source coming from behind, she couldn't make out the features of his face. "I said, I ain't Hank. I'm Remy." He stuck out a hand for her to take, though Rogue just stared at it.

"Ah'm Rogue," she replied quietly. A few days before, no one wanted to talk to her. Now, everyone appeared to be inviting her to something or another all at once. It appeared as if her plans wouldn't work.