Fanfic time: Misfits part 24

Continued from yesterday:

  Sara squeezed back, and chuckled softly. “It’s okay. If I disappoint, at least there won’t be unpleasant consequences.” It wouldn’t matter to strangers how remedial she was, so long as she had powers for them to focus on. But it *would* matter to her. 

  Todd seemed to pick up on this well enough. “Yo intelligent no matta *what* some piece o’ paper says. Dunno why people made those tests anyway, s'cept to prove who was better than who.” He really wasn’t helping was he? Todd cursed inwardly. “I don’t know much bout IQ tests. I know it’s a lot of stress yo don’t need right now,” he amended softly. He smiled up at her. “So long as you don’t thinka ‘bout it too much, I bet you could ace it." 

  It had a bit of truth to it. Taking a test you were worried about seldom reaped good marks. The worry clouded your mind and answering questions became akin to navigating a minefield blindfolded. Todd had encountered far too many tests he wasn’t prepared for to not know the feeling. On half of them he would have done better had he been less afraid of failing. 

  "I don’t think you 'ace’ IQ tests,” Sara smiled. “It’s more like making a map of your mind, to see where your strengths lie. Pity the poor cartographer of my map. More dumplings?" 

  Todd looked down at his bowl to find it nearly empty. His stomach was feeling comfortably lined, and he knew better than to eat himself sick because of sudden abundance. He couldn’t help a flash of annoyance when the fuzzy bottomless pit held out his clean bowl and attempted to look cute. Logan was rolling his own eyes. "Elf, if you don’t watch it, you’re gonna be rolling across the Danger Room floor tomorrow mornin’." 

  Kurt didn’t have time to reply as Amara stormed up to him and pounced on his ear. "What is that smell? Did I not tell everyone I’m on a diet? Kurt, how could you try and sabotage me like this?" 

  "Nein, I didn’t cook anything!” Kurt wailed, as Amara attempted to drag him out of the kitchen by his ear, clearly thinking she would remove temptation by doing so. 

  Todd snickered. “Looks like there’s going to be a mob of angry dieters soon." 

  "Then I suggest we eliminate the evidence.” Sara smiled. “Sure you don’t want another one?" 

  Todd couldn’t remember having anything quite so good in his life. He could find room for more, the past week considered. Hell, his stomach was practically begging, especially now that the dumplings were on the endangered list. He could hear voices down the hall. "One more, yo, then we’d better split." 

  "May as well,” shrugged Hank, taking one for himself at Sara’s offering. “Mmm, oh my stars. There’ll probably be at least a minor explosion over who gets the rest of these. And whoever does the exploding is the one that does the cleaning." 

  In other words, eat fast and leave soon to avoid cleanup duty. Sounded like a plan. There was the sound of a scuffle and several shouting Jamie clones running toward the kitchen. "Oh no you don’t, ya little squirts!” yelled Sam, longer legged and yet unable to pass the small army of ten-year-olds. 

  Hank maneuvered himself swiftly to block the doorway and let the Jamies bounce off him. “One moment, leave some room so people can get out,” he admonished around a mouthful of dumpling. 

~

  Todd’s stomach was a very happy lead weight[1] by now, so he was eager to help Sara sidle out of the ensuing melee. 

  “Ew… there’s like, *meat* in this…" 

  Todd rolled his eyes. Better that Kitty didn’t know about the suet. 

  "One day, y’ mightn’t mind so much,” said Sam. “But I’ll take your share." 

  And then they were confronted by Jean. "Just *who* had to cook when *I* was on a diet?” she whined. “Just a *taste* is going to go to my hips." 

  "So resist,” said Sara. 

  “Essel?” Jean looked down. “*Toad*?” She sighed, waving her hands in mock surrender. “I don’t even *want* to know what you’re doing here." 

  "Fine,” Todd blurted. “Then we won’t tell yo’." 

  Hank was knuckling his way towards their exit, one large bowl held high above the crowd. "Pardon me. Coming through. Hot soup. Watch your step. Ex-*cuse* me…” He breathed a sigh of relief once free of the crowds. “Are you all right, miss Adrien?" 

  "I should be more like her and she doesn’t even know who I am,” Sara marvelled, staring after Jean. 

  “When it comes to miss Grey and diet-breakers, I’m shocked she could recognise *anyone*,” said Hank. He lead the way down the hall. “Pay it no mind. I’ve set up a quiet room, in which there are several tests. They range upwards in difficulty, and the percentage of trick questions." 

  "Oh dear,” muttered Sara. 

  “I have utmost confidence in you, miss Adrien. I’ve long suspected you conceal hidden depths… and now I have an opportunity to fully plumb them, as it were." 

  Sara blushed. 

  Todd squeezed her hand. "Just keep coo’, yo. You do fine." 

  "I wish I shared your confidence, dear,” said Sara. She had to be stressed. This was one of the very few times when she didn’t correct his grammar. 

+

  Sara wiped her palms on the knees of her borrowed track pants, re-read the instructions on the board, and opened the first question book. 

  _A train leaves Denver travelling at 30mph…_ 

  “K-I-S-S, R-T-F-Q,” she muttered, showing all her working and trying desperately not to over-think the problems. This was the one with the fewest trick questions, so she had to keep things simple. She sighed, halfway through the first book, and stared briefly at the camera. 

  Did it help or hinder to know that both Dr McCoy and Todd were watching her in another room? 

  Back to work. Question thirty-seven. _Oh *dear*…_ This was one of those ones that could be over-thought until logic suggested that the problem didn’t actually exist. 

  “K-I-S-S,” Sara emphasised. “K-I-S-S…" 

+

  "Kiss?” McCoy pondered. 

  “Keep It Simple, Stoopid,” Todd supplied. “’S what it stands fo’.” He watched Sara rub her scalp and walk through the problem at hand. “You can do it, babe. Keep at it." 

  "This certainly explains a great deal,” murmured McCoy. “She’s actually making an effort to *restrain* herself from thinking… Amazing." 

  "Huh?" 

  The big blue guy smirked. "You’ve never seen the backs of Sara’s school notebooks, have you? I’ve had that chance, once or twice… Your young lady is more than a diamond in the rough. Ah! Here we go." 

  Sara, on the monitor, slipped both question paper and answer book into a slot at the front of the room, then got the next question sheet. 

McCoy opened a little hatch and began examining her answers. "Hm! Just as I thought. Trying to conform with the classes as taught, but here–” he indicated a page of working that Sara had crossed out. “Genius shines through." 

  "She crossed that out, yo. It don’t count… don’t it?" 

  "I’ve always found miss Adrien’s obliterated answers to be far more educational than the ones she judges to be acceptable.” McCoy looked through the book for more. “Our dear lady does like to hide her light in a bushel…" 

  Todd snorted, watching her work through the second book. "Shyeah. I love her, but she can’t take a compliment if yo’ gift-wrap it.” Was it him? Or was she working faster? 

  Nope. She stopped cold. 

  “Question thirty-seven, I presume.” Hank smirked. “The one problem that remains the same in every question book." 

  "It’s a trick question all along? That ain’t fair!” His poor sweetie… 

  “It’s the trick question to beat all trick questions,” he grinned. “And the trick is, that it’s carefully calibrated. No two people would be able to answer it the same way. The *trick*, dear boy, is in *how* the testee answers." 

  "She’s gonna make you her hobby when she finds out, yo." 

  "For a brief while, perhaps.” Hank shrugged. “But I suspect she’ll thank me in the long run.” He retrieved the second answer book and flipped ahead to question thirty-seven’s answer. “Intriguing… She’s answered it a different way." 

  Todd looked at the two answers to the same question. It was mostly gibberish to him, but he could pick out the diverging point. He thought of Sara chaneling her mother and shuddered. "I’ve seen her - Idunno - *be* someone else, once… Would this–?" 

  "No. Sara always answers as Sara. Her -ah- somewhat spooky impressions have little to do with this…” he tapped the page. “I might have to make her *my* hobby…" 

  Todd decided to steer the conversation away from anything that involved Sara under a microscope. "Yo, how do you know about th’ impressions?" 

  He grinned. "I was late to meet her, one afternoon, after school. She was entertaining her -ah- contemporary. That gossippy Wiltshire girl." 

  Oh. *Her*. _I don’t care what Sara says, I’m'a fuck her up one of these days._ "Yeah. Met her." 

  "You sound rather less impressed than I was,” Hank sounded mildly shocked that such a thing was possible. “Sara, however, managed to solidly 'nail’ me. I could not, in all good conscience, contain my applause." 

  Todd could just picture that. McCoy, in his pre-blue body, entering with cheery 'bravo’s. Sara’s resultant shriek and blush… and possibly what Janine’s blabby mouth would turn it into. Maybe he should sneak a few dead rats into *her* locker. See how *she* liked it. 

  Sara *was* working faster… but the things she was doing to her *face*… Her tongue slid out of her mouth and her face slackened to such a point that she looked moronic… except the eyebrows, which drew down in a frown. 

  She paused after the latest question to rub her head again, and wound up peeling skin from her hair until a whole piece dangled over her back. 

_I am *so* glad I don’t shed that bad,_ Todd thought. "She’s gotta be in pain,” he said. “But she don’t look like she’s feeling it." 

  "Possibly distracted by the task at hand,” McCoy reassured. “You’ll note that she doesn’t -ah- groom until she’s finished a problem?" 

  "Yo, if that’s all it takes, I’m'a ask her word math problems 'till my throat goes dry." 

+

  Last book. Most trick questions. Sara made a point to prove her proofs backwards and forwards. 

  Question thirty-seven was the same one as for all the others. 

  _Shit!_ 

  There was no way to take the others back. No do-overs. She just had to soldier on. Keep going. Do Todd proud. 

  Love *was* a powerful thing. 

 [1] Mutton and clootie dumplings tends to fill one up with surprising haste.

  Her scales had gone greyish again, indicating, Todd hoped, that Sara was unwinding from prior stresses and not - he feared - that she was building up some more of them. 

  Todd offered his hand for her to hold. Sara used it to reel him in for a near-bone-crushing hug and an episode of trembles. 

  _Aw *shee-it*…_ ”’S gonna be okay, babe. Y'ain’t gonna fall.“ 

  A breath like a sob. ”…thank you. I needed that.“ Hot tears melded with a delicate kiss to his neck. "I want to beg, whimper, plead and whine my way into a do-over,” she whispered. “It’s like a compulsion or something. Or conditioning. Resistance is… wracking." 

  Todd tried to rock with her, but the height difference between them was starting to do some wracking things to his back. "Let’s siddown, 'kay? I think yo’ gonna be surprised when shaggy, over there, gets done." 

  Sara kind of flopped into her seat, negating their remaining height-difference by slouching. Her fingers twitched, playing invisible harp strings. "I’m so used to do-overs,” she confessed. “One fails, one tries again until success is achieved. I didn’t *know* it was a trick question." 

  "It hurt like hell when I found out, yo. ’S part of th’ test, to see *how* yo’ answer, not *what* yo’ answer." 

  Sara frowned, lost at the concept. "What sort of a question is *that*?” she wondered. “If it doesn’t have a right answer, why is it there?" 

  "To examine your methods, of course,” said Hank. He’d surfaced from his reading and still bore the pince-nez spectacles[1] on the bridge of his nose. “It’s easy to tell that you have never been educated in the field of higher mathematics,” Sara focussed intently on her knees at this, “but the way you’ve come so *close* to established formulae is remarkable. With just a little aid and attention, I have no doubt that you would be undertaking some university courses by next year, at the latest." 

  Sara’s head came back up. "I beg your pardon?" 

  "You are a *very* intelligent young lady,” Hank clapped her warmly on the shoulder. “At the very least, I would estimate your IQ to be somewhere above one-eighty… but that is an extremely conservative estimate." 

  Todd glowered at him. _If you break her, I’m'a kill yo’,_ he thought. 

  Sara’s head tic’d 'no’ as her scales drained to a dull yellowish hue. "But I’m in Remedial *Ed*…" 

  "Genius, my dear Miss Adrien, rarely conforms to standardized testing. Many a bright spark has been discovered languishing with the bottom-feeders… in fact, the many behavioural demerits in your permanent record are quite the red flag." 

  "I think…” Sara murmured, “…I think I have to talk to Gladys." 

  "By all means,” Hank released them both with an upturned palm. “Go degauss." 

+

  Upstairs, Professor Xavier exited from his office and possibly the most exasperating telephone call of his life. "That woman,” he announced to the waiting Logan, “is an absolute *harridan*." 

  "That bad, eh?” Logan knew that it took a great deal for the Professor to insult anyone. 

  “Forty-five minutes,” he said, rubbing his head. “Forty-five minutes *straight*… of haranguing, harassing, and otherwise muck-raking of Miss Adrien’s past sins, real or imagined - and she didn’t even pause for *breath*!" 

  Logan’s eyebrows raised at the thought. "Y'know… I think I saw a Scold’s Bridle in one o’ the basements…" 

  Xavier thought *very* hard about the idea for five seconds too long. "No. Tempting… but, no. I fear it would fail to teach her anything.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to settle for the best therapy I can find for Miss Adrien." 

  "Kid’s gonna need years of it,” said Logan. 

 [1] I loved Hank with pince-nez specs 

  Todd was certain he only began breathing again when Sara’s usual colour returned. In fact, he was almost to the point where he’d rather cut off his arm than interrupt her, but she needed to look after herself. 

  “Feelin’ better?” he asked when she slowed. 

  “A little. I don’t think the shock’s entirely hit me, yet…" 

  "You need t’ drink somethin’,” _An’ so do I…_ His own thirst was threatening to turn his tongue into sandpaper. And, just as he reached for her hand, one of the X-geeks entered. 

  Scooter. One-eye. Better known as Scott Summers, the boy every girl on the planet seemed to lust after. He carried a tray of bottled water and sport drinks. “Hank said you might be needing these,” he said, setting the tray down. He then emptied his pockets of many, brightly-wrappered bars. “And these. Kurt swears by 'em as an emergency stash. And *his* metabolism’s a furnace." 

  Sara the social chameleon was remarkably guarded and almost - hostile. "My thanks,” she said, cool to the point of growing hoarfrost. 

  Todd sensed raising hackles, and so did Wonderboy, who backed hastily out of the room. “Yo, what up?” Todd wondered. “I thought he was th’ golden boy, far as the ladies were concerned." 

  "I’ve had the misfortune of catching a Senior’s eye, previously. It did not end well.” Sara cracked open a scientifically-approved bottle of bluish liquid and gracefully knocked back the entire litre. “Do you recall the movie, _Never Been Kissed_?" 

  "Yeah, guess…” He shrugged, having caught the edges of it when Tabby had control of the TV. Pietro, he remembered, had cried like a little girl in some parts. Tabby had laughed at it. 

  “The scene with the egging?" 

  _Oh crap. I think I know where this is going…_ Todd, horrified and unable to stop himself, nodded. 

  "Imagine it re-enacted with dog feces replacing the eggs. And with four Seniors doing the propelling. Nothing was done.” She delicately peeled a bar and took a savage bite. “Apparently, it was an annual practice. I was informed that I was lucky I was plain. Prettier freshmen are allegedly raped. En masse." 

  Todd had just moved into Bayville at the time, finishing up middle school by mail. The incident had been relegated to a half-minute piece in the "In other news” section right before the weather and sign-off. Mystique had been pissed off, naturally, because it happened to and amongst *her* students; but reprimand and punishment by her was moot, since the Prom happened at the end of the school year. “Goddamnit, I’m startin’ to *hate* our school, yo." 

  "I had considered filing a lawsuit,” Sara finished the bar and began on a bottle of water. “Mother insisted that I’d be lucky to redeem the bill for dry-cleaning. She said there were no possible emotional damages, as she’d warned me from the start. My own fault, for not listening.” Sara offered him a spectacularly vivid yellow sports beverage. 

  Todd drank until his air ran out. “No offense meant, babe,” he panted, “but yo’ mom is a harpy." 

  "A dragon, certainly,” she agreed. “A gorgon, perhaps… But she never swears.” Sara paced, rubbing at her peeling skin. “She never hit me, you know." 

  Faint praise, indeed. _In the unlikely event of my havin’ kids,_ Todd thought, _I never want a plus point o’ theirs to be 'he never hit me’, when they get t’ talkin’._ "Din’t stop her tearin’ yo’ up wit’ her tongue,” he said.

~