Three


"Yeah, some of the kids from the Institute were there. It was cool. Yeah . . . twenty points . . .  uh-huh . . . I was knocking down the three-pointers."

Evan relaxed in his airy bedroom, reclining against the headboard, twining the phone cord around his wrist. The postgame, evening phone calls home were more ritual than formality, and he was glad of that. Sometimes he'd get so homesick for the relatively carefree existence he'd led in New York City with his parents, his friends, his basketball teammates - all the things he took for granted before his powers began to emerge and everything changed. Though he'd grown more accustomed to his new life at the institute, he still yearned for the city, fearing that the longer he stayed away, the more he'd forget the old times and the more the old times would forget him. But there were some things that hadn't changed - that would never change - and his phone calls home after basketball games reminded him that his link to the old times - some, anyway - was secure.

"Yeah, next Monday night at seven. Right. Auntie O and the professor'll be there, too. But tell Dad he can't bring his video camera into the school. Too, um, you know. Uh-huh. Huh? Oh, yeah, I got it yesterday. Thanks. I've needed a new board. My old one . . ."

A soft knock cut into his words. Evan sat up slightly. Dinner time. Finally.

"Just a second," he called. "Mom, I'd better go. I think it's time to eat. Okay. Love you, too. Right. Bye."

He placed the receiver down with a sigh and swung his legs off the bed. "Come in."

Kitty did just that - phasing through the closed door. "Hey, Evan," she said. "Are you, like, busy?"

"Nah." He stretched his arms above his head. "I was just talking to my folks about the game."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, looking apologetic. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's cool. We were just finishing up," he said, standing and massaging the back of his neck. "I'm starved. Dinner ready?"

"Almost. Storm said another ten minutes." Kitty took a seat on the edge of the bed, her forehead puckered in a thoughtful frown. "Ev, I just had, like, the weirdest conversation with Kurt."

"And that," Evan said, "is different from every other conversation with him . . . how?"


"Yeah, you know?" she said with a smile. "But we were, um, talking about the letter? You know, the one you got in your locker the other day?"

His grin immediately faded. "What about it?"

"Well, Kurt said that you told him that, um, Pietro wrote it?" She paused. "Um, that's kind of . . ."

"It is not what you think," he sighed. "It was a joke, like I told you before. It's Pietro's -- or one of the other Brotherhood weirdoes' - new brand of X-Men torment."

"But it's not like, you know, they're fighting us anymore," she said. "I mean they even seem kind of, well, friendly sometimes."

She noticed the disbelief in his look and just shrugged. "I said sometimes. "

"Okay, look: I know that since the thing on Asteroid M went down, they've been kind of chill," he said. "But the Brotherhood is still the Brotherhood. And more important, Pietro is still Pietro."

"Yeah, but . . ." Kitty hesitated, picking at a loose thread on his bedspread. "It's just weird, you know? I think the Brotherhood has other things to worry about than playing lame jokes."

"Like?"

"Like, I don't know, getting food, paying utilities. Trying to keep the house from being condemned. Did you know that Mystique left them with, like, nothing?" Her blue eyes blazed with a sudden anger. "Their house is totally falling apart, and--" She shifted uneasily under his skeptical stare. "What?"

"How do you know so much about what the Brotherhood's up to these days?"

"Um . . . you hear stuff," she said vaguely. "But anyway, about the note. Like, why does it have to be a joke? Why's it, like, so hard to believe that someone likes you?"

"Because it's . . ." never happened before . . . that I know of, anyway. " . . .just too weird. I don't know. There was just something strange about that note."

"Strange? Like, how?"

"Just . . . strange. I can't really explain it," he said. "It didn't feel right. Look, can we not talk about it? It's too stupid to keep going over."

"But . . ." she began, but stopped, staring down at the ground for a moment. "All right. If you don't want to, we won't."

Her whole manner changed suddenly, and her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Look, Evan. I actually wanted to ask you, um, if you could, um, walk me to the library. After dinner."

"The library?" He looked confused. "At seven o'clock at night? Is it even open then?"

"The one near Bayville U. is." She looked a little uncomfortable. "Please, Evan? I really need to go . . ."

"Well, why don't you just go?" he asked. "I mean, our curfew's not 'til nine . . ."

"Because if the others find out I'm going, they'll want to go, too." Kitty's eyes darted nervously around the room. "And I don't want that. Jubilee and Rahne already, like, asked me what I was doing tonight . . ."

"But you want me to go?"

"Well, yeah. We have Social Sciences together. We can say we're going to work on a project. That way, it'll just be us."

"Lie? You mean lie?" He gave her a searching look. "Why would we need to lie if I'm just walking you to the library? It's just the library, right?" He looked hard at the girl, who was squirming. "Right?"

"It's just that I'm kinda supposed to meet someone there," she said, "and I don't really want anybody to know." She shifted from one foot to the other, "And so I figured that if you came with me, it'd, like, chill everybody out. You know that Logan doesn't like any of us to go out alone."

He sat up straighter. "You're meeting someone? Who?"

Kitty glanced at him, then quickly away. "I can't tell you here. Jean, like, is totally close by, and the Professor -"

"Jean was helping Auntie O with dinner, and you know Professor X doesn't pry into people's minds without getting the go-ahead . . ."

"Kitty! Evan! Dinner time!" Ororo's voice wafted from the staircase, startling them both. "Come on now, before the food gets cold."

"Comin' Auntie!" Evan called back. Turning quickly to Kitty, he raised a brow. "Well?"

"Okay, okay." She hesitated a split second. "It's -- it's Lance."

"Alvers?" He watched her nod slowly, face turning bright red. Evan was conscious that he didn't feel very surprised, but confusion ranged through him. "But why? You trying to talk him into coming back?"

"No, no. He . . ." She was quiet again, looking down at the ground. When she looked up, her expression was a meld of hope and anguish.

"He and I are together," she said at last. "We have been for almost two months. And if anybody finds out, it could ruin everything."

~*~


"You want me to do what?"

"Talk to him, yo. Tell him how you feel."

Todd crouched lazily on Pietro's bed, his pale-green eyes resting thoughtfully on his friend's white hair.

"To his face, Quickie," he went on. "That way, you don't get any mixed signals, no way to misunderstand. You put stuff in a letter, and stuff can get mixed around real quick. I mean, you shoulda heard him talking to Blue Boy about it. He had no clue."

Fuck. Why are the beautiful ones always so dense? And why do I always fall for them? 

"Listen - there was nothing wrong with my letter," Pietro said, hugging a pillow to his chest. "It was short, sweet, to the point: Daniels totally missed the subtlety in it."

"That's the point," Todd said, hopping off the bed. "Subtle. That ain't you, yo. You ain't subtle. That's one of the things I respect about you - you speak your mind, doesn't matter who it is - Lance, any of the X-Geeks, Mystique -- I never gotta wonder what you're thinking . . . you always put it out there."

"I put it out there. He just didn't get it."

"Writing about how much you like his sweater? Come on, that ain't your style," Todd said with a shake of his dirty-blond hair. "I'd think it was a joke, too, if I hadn't seen you write it. And then you teased him about it--"

"It wasn't teasing. I only wanted to get his reaction."

"That it made it worse. You shoulda just left him alone," Todd went on. "I know that's real hard to do where Daniels is involved, but that way, he mighta still thought it was made up, but he probably wouldn't've thought you were the one that did it."

"But he doesn't necessarily think that now," Pietro said, rubbing his chin. "You said he told Fuzzy that it could be me or any of us."

"Yeah, but you're the one with the grudge," Todd replied. "And you're the one who needled him about it. And you're the one who's 'acting weird,' according to him."

Pietro's head snapped up. "Evan said that I was acting weird? He said that?" He's noticed my change in mood! Not even Fred or Lance has said anything, and they live with me! "Really?"

Todd nodded. "Sometimes I think he's just as obsessed with you as you are with him. I saw y'all in the gym this afternoon before the game. When you left, I swear he was staring at your ass."

"Whaaaaaat?" Pietro's jaw dropped. "Uh. . ." He reeled at the thought, but swallowed hard, squelching that stab of delight that thrilled through his body.  "Where were you? How come I didn't see you?"

"Under the bleachers, picking up change." Todd plunged a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a fistful of quarters and dimes. "It's like Treasure Island down there, yo. Especially on game days. Anyway, I saw you two talkin' and then you walked away, and Daniels' eyes did like this." The younger mutant's sea-green eyes made a downward progression. "I don't think he was checking out your sneakers."

With difficulty, Pietro stopped the silly grin that was that was threatening to overtake the lower half of his face. No. No. Will not get my hopes - or anything else - up.

"All I'm saying is that if you want him to like you, you gotta act like you," Todd said. "And that means no more of this tiptoeing shit. It means going up to up to him and layin' it all out there."

"And then I'll get a chance to stare at his ass when he runs screaming away from me." Pietro said, slowly shaking his head. "I can just picture it: 'Hey, Evan, you're right - I did write that letter. I've been in love with you since third grade. Yeah, yeah . . . I know that I've had you arrested and have tried to seriously maim you and your friends on several occasions, and yes, I do understand that we're both guys, but life's funny and I love you. Kiss me, you fool.'"

Todd was quiet a moment. "Not bad. Lose the maiming thing, and you might have something to work with. Whatever . . . just talk."

"Hmmm . . . I'll give it some thought." Pietro closed his eyes for a split second. Opened them.

"Okay, thought about it. Answer's still no."

"You're hopeless, yo." The younger teen's sigh was long and resigned. "You're gonna keep banging your head against the wall until you knock yourself out. If you wanted --"

"Shh!" Pietro sat straight up suddenly, waving Todd into silence. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" Todd's head whipped around the room. "What?"

"Shhhhhhh! That!" Pietro's head tilted in the direction of a low warble coming from the outside his door, a voice climbing high and low in an upbeat melody. "That! He's doing it again!"

Todd strained to hear. "Sounds like cats being strangled."

"Close. It's Lance . . . singing."

Pietro grinned, getting up to open the door wider. The sounds of water running into the sink, shattering glass, and the off-key strains of "Danke Schon" drifted down the shadowy hallway from the direction of the bathroom. "And he sounds . . ."

"Awful, yo," Todd said, placing his hands over his ears. "Where's a gong when you need it?"

"Yesssss . . . but more than that," the speedster continued, looking thoughtful. "He sounds . . . happy. I wonder why -"

The singing stopped abruptly, and a moment later, footfalls sounded down the hall, leaving a trail of pungent-sweet cologne in its wake. Pietro stuck his head out the door in time to see a the top of Lance's head disappear down the staircase. His footfalls retreated down the stairs and receded from hearing seconds before the front door slammed.

"Annnnd, he's off. Second time this week he's split after dinner. And without so much as a good bye." Pietro's voice sounded strangely detached, almost uninterested. "It's past seven . . . he's all spiffed up, smelling like one of those magazine inserts, acting shifty and singing lounge songs. And secretive -- so very secretive. You know what that means, Toddie?"

"Um, dunno man. A date?"

"No, no . . . a challenge."

Pietro smoothed back his hair, the familiar half-smile working its way back to his face. "And I thought tonight was going to be dull. I have my own ideas on where he's going, but there's only one way to be sure, so . . . don't wait up. " He moved toward the door.

"Wait a minute. We ain't done talking. What about Daniels? What are you going to do about him?"

Pietro halted halfway through the door, one hand on the doorknob.

"What am I going to do about Evan," he repeated softly. "Well, the same thing I always do, of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an Avalanche to track."

There was a rattle, a gust of wind, and then silence.

Todd glared at the door a long moment. The air in the room was still whirling from Pietro's departure.

"The same thing you always do?" he grumbled, sinking onto the bed. "Right. Nothing."

~*~

"I just think you're overreacting, that's all."

Evan took Kitty's elbow as they maneuvered around benches and trashcans along a tree-lined path. His steps were a little unsteady -- he was more used to navigating the passageway on his skateboard rather than on foot -- but bringing his board along would have blown their "studying" cover. "We all know Alvers isn't a bad guy. Even though he's back with the Brotherhood, doesn't change what he did for Jubes, Bobby and Sam when he was with us."

"Yeah, I know . . . but it's still a little weird," Kitty said with a sigh. "Scott still totally hates him and I know that Jean thinks he's waay too old for me. And Kurt . . . well, he just doesn't like him."

"I don't think Scott hates him; Alvers just pushes his buttons, I guess," he said as they crossed a street and turned onto the green, sprawling campus of Bayville University. "And with Jean, why listen to her? She's dating Duncan -- the biggest jerk in Bayville. And yeah, I know how Kurt feels."

They walked on a winding path toward the squat, brick library. "But I think that besides all that, if anybody would be freaked out about it, it'd because of what he did to you. You meet this guy and he nearly killed you and your family. And Jean. That's some rough stuff to overcome."

"Well, yeah. I know. And we talk about it . . . sometimes." Kitty's eyes clouded over a moment as she remembered the events that took place at their old school. "He honestly thought he was trying to help me by, you know, trying to destroy the stuff he thought was hurting me," she said softly. "And I know that what he did was, like, so wrong . . . but . . . well, I forgive him. I know enough of him now to know that he never meant to hurt anybody - he was just confused. Even when I first heard that he was in Bayville, I couldn't stay mad or scared of him. I couldn't hate him."

"I . . . guess I can understand that," Evan replied after a pause. "But maybe you should just tell the others that? It beats sneaking around. They won't exactly love him if they find out what you're doing to see him."

"But it's not just me," she replied. "Things were rough for him when he went back to the Brotherhood. Do you know that the others had a vote to let him back in? It was 3 to 1 to take him back."

Evan was quiet. Lance had ditched his friends without so much as a goodbye - or at least that was the story he'd overheard from Todd and Fred. That they'd even considered letting him back into the Brotherhood was still something of a mystery to him. "Who voted against him?"

"I don't know. I have an idea, but he won't tell me." They veered to the right, heading toward a small clearing near the main entrance to the building. "But things are finally getting back to normal - or whatever - there, and he doesn't want to rock the boat," Kitty said. "Any of the others see him with me, well, it'll just be awkward, you know? They still see us as their enemies, and I know that most of the guys at the mansion think the same about them."

"But you told me. Why?"

"Well . . . because I know you won't snitch. And you were fair to Lance when he was with us," Kitty said, peering around the open courtyard. Shooting him a quick glance, she added. "And, well, there's other reasons, too . . ."

"Yeah?" He eyed her quizzically. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well-" she began, but topped short, catching sight of a tall, dark-haired boy lounging against a tree. "Look. Over there," she said, gripping his arm suddenly, and Evan smiled in spite of himself at the sunshine in her voice. Lance looked up then, catching sight of the pair. A wide grin lit the swarthy face, and he advanced toward them, his long legs rapidly covering the distance between them.

"Hi." She looked up at him, a smile trembling over her lips.

"Hi." His smile was no less dazzling. "Hey, Daniels." He added almost as an afterthought, glancing quickly to his left.

"Uh, hey." Evan nodded quickly, instinctively checking their surroundings. He saw no familiar faces, and he relaxed a little - just a little.

"Hi," she said again, tilting her head in such a way that her bangs fell cutely over one eye.

"Hiiiii," Lance's voice was goofy and giggly. "You look really, really . . . wow. "

"You're so silly," she said giggling. "But you look . . . wow, too."

Evan shifted uneasily as the two continued to fixate on each other, effectively ignoring him. He suppressed a sigh, sorrier than ever that he'd left his board at the mansion. "Uh . . . I guess I'll just hang for awhile," he said a little louder than he intended. "And I'll swing back and pick you up. You know . . . curfew, and all. Okay, Kitty?"

"Huh? Oh! Right!" Kitty said, still staring lovingly at her boyfriend. "We'll be back, like, in an hour. Right, Lance?"

"Yeah. Don't want to get you in any trouble." Regret tinged the older boy's words. "So we'd better get goin'. We could take the little shortcut behind the library."

As they walked toward the expansive structure, Evan's one thought was to ask where they were headed. Kitty was his teammate, and she was technically going into the "enemy" camp. And though Lance was not so much of a threat, odd things had a way of happening whenever anyone in the Brotherhood was involved. He pondered a moment, as the winding lane leading away from the library came into view. Nah. Let 'em have their privacy. They can't go far in an hour.

He was jolted out of his musing by a sharp intake of breath. Evan looked in surprise to see Lance staring at the library's entryway in shock.

"Fuck!" Lance dashed behind a stone bench, ducking his head. "It's Pietro!"

Kitty and Evan looked over, both sighting a slim, pale figure milling around the crowd at the top of the stairs leading into the library. The person was moving so slowly that Evan at first had doubts that it was him, but then he caught sight of wings of ivory hair.

"Oh no!" Kitty moved closer to Lance. "Like, what is he doing here? You didn't tell anyone where you were going, did you?"

"No way," Lance said, his voice slightly muffled. "I didn't say anything to anybody. I just kinda . . . took off." There was a pause, and the brown head drooped a little. "Guess I'm pretty good at that." He was quiet a moment more. Then, "Is he still there?"

"Yeah. He's looking around," Evan said, studying his rival. He looks pissed, he thought, noting Pietro's fierce expression and rigid posture. "Maybe he's just here meeting a study group or something?"

"Pietro? You're kidding, right?" Lance cautiously poked his head around the corner. "I heard him saying something to Todd--"

"Quiet," Evan hissed, shoving the older boy back into his hiding place. Pietro was making another sweep of the upper level. "I think he might be going in . . ." Evan froze for a moment as he saw Pietro swing back and face the courtyard - in their direction. "Or not . . ."

". . . I can't phase us out, Lance . . . too many people around . . . " Kitty bent toward him, speaking in an agitated whisper.

"Maybe I can create a little distraction, and then you phase us? --"

"No! Then he'll know you're here." Kitty retorted. "Evan! How close is he? Are any of the others with him?"

He looked up. Pietro was at the top of the stairs, shading his eyes and looking around. Evan nudged Lance with his foot, and the older boy scurried farther behind the obscuring post. Any other time, Evan would have considered Lance's actions rather funny -- the big, bad rock tumbler hiding in fear from one of his own teammates? Especially someone like Pietro, who didn't exactly look like a physical threat. But if things were as tenuous at the Brotherhood as Kitty said, then it was possible that the speed demon would go off if he saw Lance with an X-Man. Evan knew about loyalties. He knew that when push came to shove, he'd lay it all on the line for any of his teammates, and they'd do the same for him. If Pietro chose to mix it up with the X-Men, Evan couldn't be sure that Lance wouldn't give in and side with his fellow Brotherhood member . . . he had gone back to them, after all.

Don't want to fight. This is screwed up enough as it is.

Evan's eyes narrowed.

"Evan?"

He jumped a little, instinctively glancing over his shoulder. Kitty was looking at him strangely. "Is he still there?"

"He's coming this way," Evan said quietly, moving away from the pair. Dark eyes tracked the slender youth as he came closer. "Just chill for a minute. I'll try to keep him busy for a while you guys get lost."

"But --" Kitty began, when Lance placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head quickly.

"Cool, Daniels. Thanks. We owe you big."

"Right." Evan had barely heard him. He was already on his way up the steps.

~*~

I just turned my back a second. Where the hell did Lance go?

 Pietro cast a savage glare around the courtyard as he clipped down the stairs. Damn the old biddies in the Rotunda. Had him in my sights until they came over with their stupid pamphlets. They wanna help starvin' kids, they should come to our house.

Saw him come this way . . . then . . . His eyes raked the area as he descended. Dammit. He can't be far. I'll find him. I'll --

"Maximoff. What's up?"

"Accck!" Pietro sprang back in surprise, tripping over his feet in the process. Landing on his butt with a hard thud, he gawked at the figure looming above him.

"Daniels?" He blinked uncertainly at the darker boy. "Where did you come from?"

Evan? Evan here? Now? Pietro's brain went into blender mode. No! I can't see him! Don't know what I'm gonna do yet! I'm not ready to see him . . . so . . . he can't be here! Yeah . . . that's it. I'm not ready, so it can't be him. I'm just seeing things. I'm gonna shut my eyes . . . and when I open 'em, there will be no Evan. He squeezed his eyes closed, holding a breath. Okay . . . I'll wait a little while, then . . .

"Maximoff, what is your problem? You gonna lie across the steps all night?"

Didn't work. He's actually here. Fuck.

Pietro opened his eyes one at a time, and glared up at Evan. "And if I were, what's it to you, Daniels?" He got to his feet, brushing dust off his clothing. "Just what are you doing here anyway?

"Just studying," he said with a nonchalant shrug. "Doing stuff for school. You?"

"Er . . . research." Pietro's eyes darted from side to side. Dammit! I couldn't have lost him . . . I couldn't have! Lance was moving so slow that Fred could've kept up. Lance did not shake me. He didn't!

"Oh yeah?" Evan glanced over his shoulder, annoyed to see the top of Lance's head and Kitty's left shoe behind the bench. What are they doing? Can't they just go already? "Research . . . uh . . . about what?"

"Um . . . natural disasters," Pietro hedged, his eyes honing in on a spot near a group of benches. Evan followed his gaze, and nearly stopped breathing when he saw Kitty's head phasing through the bench. She was looking right at them.

Fuck! What is she doing?! Evan made what he thought was a discreet signal with his hand. Go! Go before he sees . . .

"Hey!" Pietro attempted to move around Evan to get a closer look. "Near that bench. That looks like . . ."

"So, uh, natural disasters? That's uh, interesting." Evan countered Pietro's moves, attempting to obscure the other teen's view of the courtyard. "That's for Natural Sciences, right? You know, I still haven't started that project -"

"Wait a minute." Pietro was peering over Evan's shoulder. "Isn't that . . ."

"--I mean, there's only a week left." Evan knew he was babbling, but Pietro was looking way too interested in the benches. "Um, what'd you use as your primary source? I still don't get--"

"Wait a minute!" Pietro began to move around Evan. "That looks like your little Kitty over - ahhh!" he shrieked in alarm as Evan, sensing danger and desperate to keep his rival on the stairs, lurched forward and fell into him, onto him.

Pietro tumbled to the ground once more, though this time, the brown-skinned mutant was pressed heavily atop him. Pietro could feel the steady beat of Evan's heart through his sweatshirt, could smell the heady, tantalizing scent of sweat, deodorant, locker room and . . . mashed potatoes . . .

"Ah, man. Sorry!" Evan winced. His elbow had taken an untimely hit during his timely fall. "My shoelaces keep untying. My fault." He looked down. Pietro was pinned beneath him, all but motionless. The white-haired boy was breathing hard and he seemed to have gone several shades paler. "You all right?"

Pietro stared mutely into the dark face, noting just how the warmth from Evan's body --

On me. He's on me. On top of me. Me.

-- seemed to spread throughout his body, warming him in turn to almost feverish proportions. He could feel his face grow hot enough to melt, and for a moment, he felt like the human embodiment of fire. Like he was hot enough to spontaneously combust.

Blue eyes bored into brown ones for long, lingering moments, unwavering.

Close. So close. His lips are so close. Pietro's tongue darted out instinctively, wetting his own cracked lips. He saw Evan glance down at his mouth, seemingly surprised by the sudden flash of pink. I could kiss him right now. Wouldn't take much. All I have to do is bring my head up a little . . . just a little . . . and then his lips would be on me. Evan's lips on me. Me. . .

"Uhhhh . . . you all right, Maximoff?" Evan got to his feet before Pietro's brain had a chance to register what was happening. "You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?" He extended a hand to the swift teen at the same time casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Kitty and Lance were nowhere to be seen. Breathing a sigh of relief, Evan turned his attention back to Pietro who was still sprawled on the stairs looking dazed.

"Pietro?" He bent forward a little, worry in his voice. "Pietro? You all right?"

Close. We were close. I was so . . . close . . . . Pietro blinked rapidly for some moments, forcing the muzzy thoughts out of his head. Shivering, he realized that the chill air of the fast-approaching night had seeped through his thin shirt. The heat had fled, a dark, growing anger coming in to take its place.

"I'm . . . all right," he muttered, ignoring the hand Evan offered him. He pulled himself up by degrees, maintaining a death grip on the banister. "Just fine." His eyes were fixed on a point somewhere near the ground. "Just fucking fine. Now move it. I got stuff to do." He pushed past the startled blond, a scowl on his face. Dammit. Dammit! Why does he have to be everywhere? At school, outta school, in my dreams, everywhere. Doesn't mattter, it's always him -

"Are you sure you're alright?" Evan said, feeling an inexplicable, searing blush start just below his cheekbones. "You don't look-"

Pietro turned toward him, a tense, angry expression on his angular face. "Look, I'm going, Evan. I don't want to keep you away from your school stuff. Besides, I need to go home and change my shirt, since your klutziness did this to the only decent one I have." He thrust an arm into Evan's face, displaying a long, obvious rip in the sleeve. "Unfortunately, none of us have Prince Baldy throwing around money to get new clothes, so thanks. I really appreciate you ruining the one of the few pieces of intact clothing I have. Good thing the bum look came back in."

Evan was taken aback by the other boy's sudden ferocity. "Look, man. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess up your shirt." He felt around in his pockets, fingering a neat stack of folded bills within.

"Look, I've got some cash," he said, drawing out the bills. "There's this cool cleaners near the school. I bet they could stitch that up."

"Forget it, Daniels. I don't need your stupid money," Pietro snarled. "I'll just be moving along. Getting out of your face, like you want." He brushed by the boy, moving as quickly as he could without using his powers.

"Maximoff, wait up!" Evan huffed beside the speedster. "What are you talking about? I never told you to leave. I just want -"

"Well, well. What a short memory we have." Pietro smirked at the dumbfounded look on Evan's face. "I seem to remember a conversation we had in a certain hallway of a certain school about a certain letter, and I seem to remember the words 'get,' 'out,' 'of,' 'my,' 'face,' and 'Pietro' being used . . . all in the same sentence, no less."

"Oh . . . that." Evan felt the blush return. The stupid letter . . . again. Couldn't the whole issue just go away? "Look . . . you've got it wrong. I just meant -"

Pietro skidded to a stop. "I've got it wrong? I've got it wrong?" He laughed shortly, harshly. Indignation and anger and frustration converged in him, the wave of emotions threatening to bubble over and consume him, leaving him torn between wanting to slug the other boy and wanting to drag him off to a clump of bushes and screw him silly.

 "Silly me . . . of course I'm wrong. It's gotta be me. I'm not an X-Man, after all, and you are, and everyone knows that the X-Men know everything."

"That's not what I -"

"Except you don't know anything." Pietro said, eyes flashing. "Not anything. Like, about that letter for instance." He watched in cool satisfaction as Evan's eyes widened. "I know what you think about it. How you think it's just one big laugh. And believe me -- you're the one who has it wrong."

Evan took a few steps back, suddenly shaken by the intensity of Pietro's look. "What . . . what do you mean? What do you know about it?"

"He knows all about it, yo."

Evan and Pietro turned in unison. Todd was at the base of the stairs, looking up at them. The boy's small form was slightly illuminated by the lamplights flickering around the quad. It made him look otherworldly, even more so than  when he was wearing his battle armor.

"Todd . . . uh . . . what's up?" Pietro, getting over the initial shock of seeing his teammate there, asked in a low, and, he hoped, steady voice. "Um, how'd you know . . ."

"Same as you," Todd said with a shrug. "His cologne was so strong, all I had to do was follow the scent."

Any other time, Pietro would have chuckled at that or at least given a smile. But he was having a bit of trouble breathing. Todd was there. Todd had followed him, just as he had followed Lance. Todd was there . . . and he had a very, very dangerous look in his eyes.

"Um . . . how long have you been here?" Pietro cringed at the tremor in his voice. Why is he looking me like that?

"Long enough," Todd said shortly, bounding up toward them. His eyes flicked over to Evan. "I heard you talking to Fuzzy this afternoon. And you are wrong. That letter . . . t's real, yo. And Pietro-"

"Er, Todd," Pietro zipped over in alarm, seizing the younger teen's arm. "What are you-"

"You had your chance," Todd said in a low voice, slipping smoothly out of Pietro's grip. "Now it's time to stop playing." He nodded toward Evan, who was looking from Pietro to Todd in confusion. "And I know you; you ain't gonna tell him. So I guess I'm gonna have to."

Click here for Chapter Four