Welcome to Generation X, Teacher
Chapter 2
By Yasmin M.

Dislaimers and notes in Chapter One. {{...}} represents telepathic communication and italics indicate thoughts or emphasis. I’m ignoring the Monet-is-actually-a-pair-of-twins and that silly pooka/Token/whatever business. The poem that opens this chapter is taken from "Rikki-tikki-tavi", a story in "The Jungle Book" by Rudyard Kipling. A HUGE round of thanks goes to Indigo, Sara, and Lynx for beta-reading. This story is rated PG-13 for language.

Eye to eye and head to head,
[Keep the measure, Nag.]
This shall end when one is dead;
[At thy pleasure, Nag]
Turn for turn and twist for twist -
[Run and hide thee, Nag.]
Hah! The hooded Death had missed!
[Woe betide thee, Nag!]

Sean’s uneasy, apologetic cough was almost an anti-climax. He glanced warily at me and Emma Frost, then at the students, most looking curiously at me but trying not to be too obvious about it. Good-looking teens, all of them. A very politically-correct group too, I must say. I put on my best disarming smile, then extended a hand to the beautiful, flinty-eyed telepath. Who also happens to be my boss-lady. Joy, oh joy.

"Hullo, I’m Fauziah Khalil. You must be Emma Frost," I greeted her, trying to keep my thoughts open and cheerful. Let me tell you, it isn’t easy when all I want to do is get some food and sleep. But I must have succeeded, for she smiled back, albeit not nearly as friendly.

"Yes, I am. Welcome to Massachusetts Academy, Ms. Khalil. I look forward to working with you," she answered cordially. Polite as she may be, there was an undercurrent of steel beneath those words. "Fail and I shall dismember you," she seemed to imply. Her grip was firm, and she met my eyes without flinching. I have to give her credit for that. Most people aren’t comfortable with the on-and-off glow that was the trademark of my mutant power, and tend to avoid eye contact.

"Please, call me Faez, or Fauziah if you want to be formal. Khalil is my father’s name, and not quite my surname.[1]" I kept the smile on and my thoughts in order. Looks like we may get along after all, unlike what Sean’s horror stories led me to believe.

Relief washed over Sean’s face. Sheesh, what did he think I was going to do? Slap her? Scratch her eyes out? Frost may be dressed like a walking lingerie ad and has an attitude that would freeze the balls off a polar bear, but she’s the type that gets the job done, come hell or high water. I like that in a person, even if I personally find her intimidating.

"Children, meet yuir new teacher, Faez--Fauziah," he stumbled a little on my first name as usual, "Khalil. As ye know, she’ll be teaching ye English Literature..."

Sean gently steered me towards the students, laying on the Irish charm like there was no tomorrow. Leprechaun dear, much as I like you, if you don’t stop that *right* now... I felt more than slightly irritated at his unconcious chauvinism. Discreetly, I kicked his shins and smiled at the students, matching faces to names. Having read the files he sent me, this was rather easy. But nothing prepared me for a petite figure wrapped in a yellow trenchcoat, babbling words faster than she breathed.

"Yer from Sabah, right? Where they have all those jungles and headhunters and longhouses? I saw it on TV once! Wow, you live in such an exciting place! Are there still headhunters? They have like, really kewl skulls and all. Do you have any?"

This girl has got to be Jubilation Lee.

At first glance, she looked like a stereotypical Californian mall-rat, with her choppy speech and gouge-your-eyeballs-out clothes. But something about her eyes as she gave me a once-over… I remembered reading that she was with Wolverine for a while, longer than anyone else except perhaps Kitty. There’s more to her than meets the eye, I’m sure. I wondered why she hides her maturity under a callow facade.

"No, there’re no longer any headhunters in Sabah and Sarawak. My father was descended from headhunters[2], but those days are over long ago. His family, like most others who converted to Islam or Christianity, didn’t keep their skull collection. And by the way, it’s rainforest, not jungle. Who taught you Geography?" Sean turned red, momentarily distracted from glaring at me. Oho... hit a nerve, did I?

"Yer ancestors were headhunters? Kewl!!" she chirped happily, ignoring most of my reply. The human dynamo pushed a blonde, plump-faced girl standing beside her towards me. "This is Paige Guthrie, aka Husk. Don’t mind the shedding skin, coz that’s what she does."

Paige shot her a dirty look, then courteously shook my hand, "Pleased ta meet you, ma’am. This one heah--here," she corrected herself, "is Jubilation Lee. Her codename is Jubilee."

"Call me Jubilee," the Chinese-American cut in. "That’s what everyone calls me. ‘Cept Frosty and M."

"That’s Ms Frost and Monet St. Croix," Paige added helpfully.

"Yes, I’ve read all your files. It’s great to finally meet you all," I said warmly. Paige was nice girl, but too ambitious for her own good. Ambition can be a good thing, but rather than setting goals of her own, she seemed to be trying to live up to her older brother. Hero-worshipping, in other words. Her files may be a little outdated, but from her earnest expression I doubt that much had changed.

"Hi, I’m Everett Thomas, and my codename’s Synch," said the handsome young man standing on Jubilee’s left. A likable boy, but uninteresting. He reminded me of a classmate I once had. She was good-natured, smart, hard-working, and dependable. But she couldn’t hold a candle to some of the more colourful students I met in the five years I was at St. Francis Convent Secondary School[3].

The gray-skinned Hispanic boy grinned, and shook my hand without introducing himself. "You already read my files, so no sense in tellin’ you my name, eh senõrita?" was Angelo’s only comment. Something of a charmer, this one. I like him, but I have a feeling that my precognition will be working overtime with him and Jubilee in the same class.

The melancholic English boy -- man, really -- whom I "saw" earlier, was next, with two young boys in a tow. he said. I blinked. It has been a long time since anyone talked to me telepathically, and I hope my shields will hold.

"Hi," piped Leech shyly, and Artie projected an image of a sunny smiley face. How cute! I’m no good with young children, but they’re irresistable. I’m going to have diabetes in a moment.

"Pleased to meet you two. Here, have some mango candy[4]," I couldn’t help saying, and pried loose the candy box from my bag with some difficulty. I spied a red-skinned, spiky-haired girl looking warily at me with bright blue eyes. Carefully keeping my hand away from her talons, I held out the opened box.

"You must be Yvette," I said. She showed no sign of hearing what I said, but she seemed to respond well to my smile. Timidly, she moved forward and speared a candy delicately with a finger. She nibbled cautiously, then graced me with an unexpectedly sweet smile that warmed even my cynical heart. Jubilee grinned approvingly, and the others reacted with varied shades of emotion -- surprise from Frost, to pride from Sean.

"Actually, we call her Penance," said a voice dripping with upper class smugness.

"But Yvette’s her real name, isn’t it?" I retorted, turning to the speaker, who did not deign to reply. Handing the rest of the candy to Artie and Leech, I took a good look at the Algerian girl, Monet St. Croix. She met my eyes with more than a trace of haughtiness, something I had grown accustomed to in college among filthy rich students. I never expected to get it here of all places, though maybe I should have. Human nature is the same everywhere. Unfortunately.

Absurdly, I was reminded of a quote from the Tibetan Book of the Dead: "O nobly born, let not thy mind be distracted". I have a feeling that to Monet, much of the world and those who lived in it were beneath her. A pity she isn’t in a real school, where her superior attitude would find itself under siege before very long. I was going to have to talk to the other teachers about her. An intelligent mind is a pleasure to teach, but only if the person is willing. I didn’t need my power to tell that trouble was on the horizon.

"I understand that you graduated from the University of Kent, Ms Fauziah?" she inquired, pronouncing my name flawlessly. With her tone, she implied that my qualifications were second rate. And from the looks on the rest of the students’ faces, they caught it too. Frost and Sean were arguing about something or other, seemingly oblivious to our exchange.

Ms St. Croix, you *don’t* want to make me angry.[5]

I smiled coolly at her, composing my face into an emotionless mask I had perfected over the years. "Yes, I was. I turned down Oxford’s offer because they were too stuffy." Laughing lightly, I added casually, "I believe that the study environment is very important, don’t you?"

I felt her trying to scan my mind lightly, but to no avail. The nature of my mutant power makes it well nigh impossible for a telepath to read my thoughts unless I concentrated on holding them together. I could see her puzzlement, barely hidden under an indifferent facade.

Take that, Monet.

Woah, wait a minute here... this girl is *really* getting under my skin.

Shrugging inwardly, I exchanged pleasantries with the students, except for Monet and Jono. I can understand Monet’s reticence, but what’s wrong with this guy? Casting an eye on his bandaged face, I could practically sense the clouds of self-pity roiling off him. So he lost half his face. So what? He should be thankful that he’s alive. I stifled a weary sigh. He’s going to need a lot of coaxing before I’m able to do anything with him. Good God, did they choose students based on angst potential?

"Faez?" said Sean, breaking my reverie. "Yuir suitcases have been taken t’yuir suite. The rest o’ yuir stuff are in yuir bedroom. We didnae unpack t’boxes, as ye asked." He gestured to the students to let me pass, and preceded me through the door.

"Thanks, Sean!" I called out, and moved to follow him, hoisting my carry- all.

It was then that the attack came.

Telepathic stabs penetrated my mind, sending hot agony through my head. Oh God... no, please, don’t let it happen now. Thoughts, images, sounds, smells, and textures churned in a kaleidoscopic soup. I could feel two presence: one cool and curious, the other arrogant and strange, flailing helplessly in the violent whirlpool. Vaguely, I was aware of my bag thumping on the ground and shouts from the non-telepaths, but I was past caring.

{{FROST! HELP ME! GET MONET OUT OF HERE!}} I mind-shouted at the other woman. My body was beginning to change, reacting to my distress in a classic fight-or-flight response. Bones shifted, grew, and became longer. My shirt was tearing at the back, straining at the seams.

Shit, not my favourite shirt. *Again*.

Together, Frost and I managed to fling Monet out of my mind. But the worst was not over yet. My mind, with its unusual sensitivity to telepathy, grabbed hold of hers. My precognition was uncontrollable now, sending me sensation after sensation, threatening to overload my synapses. I could no longer sense anything outside my own head, and I was thankful for that.

{{What the HELL did you think you were doing, you crazy fool?}} I mind-growled at her, fighting to let her go.

{{Mind-probing you}} she said, ominously meek. I could feel her straining to detach herself. {{Monet said she could not scan you, whereas I could.}}

{{Of course you could. I let you!}}

Finally, with a cry of triumph, I shoved her out. But not without a little gift -- I gave her a look at her future, 10 years from now. Shock transmitted itself to me, a second before her presence disappeared. Unceremoniously, Frost fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

"NO! STAY AWAY!" I shouted at Sean, who was running towards me. Panic was written all over his face, but I couldn’t let him get close to me, not then. I could feel my nails sharpening, hear my clothes tear, see the startled expression on the students’ faces—

With a roar and a shower of feathers, my wings unfurled itself, brown and glistening in the late afternoon sun. Black dots swam in my vision, interspersed with Sean’s pale face.

"Are ye all right, lass?"

Bloody hell. If this is how my first day is like, I’d hate to see what will happen once I start teaching.

[1] This is true. Muslims take their father’s first name as their surname, but it’s in no way similar to that of the Western and Chinese surnames, which are family names. Therefore, the correct way to formally address a Malaysian Muslim is by using his/her first name, tacking on a Mr, Ms, or local titles such as "Datuk" (male) and "Datin" (female). This rule generally applies to non-Chinese and non-Indian Malaysians.
[2] He was rather proud of it. I have a friend whose family still kept the ancient skulls, though most of them are devout Christians.
[3] That really is my ex-high school.
[4] Actually, it’s dried and sugar-added mango slices, but I’ve always called it mango candy. Delicious and chewy, they’re quite easy to find in shops nowadays.
[5] I have a nasty temper when provoked. Just ask my friends. ;)