It was one of those unusual nights. Clyde thought he was going to be home alone that evening. His mother wasn't home like she normally was; she was visiting her family. She even told him to go ahead and make his own dinner. Clyde did that, and sat down at the table with it. He powered on the television.

Flipping through the channels, he could see that Reporter Ralls story kept popping up again and again. And why wouldn't it? Ever since that segment with her reporting after an alleged assault had aired only days ago, it became huge news. Unhealed wounds from that Viewtube clip months earlier were ripped open and made even worse. Things on the streets were completely chaotic. Every single news source he could think of was having a field day.

Which was why Clyde was a bit shocked when he saw his dad come in. His eyes narrowed as he looked over at him. “I thought you'd be working ovahtime,” he remarked dully.

“Press conference tomorrow. It's real early, and they want me theah,” his dad replied, not really paying attention.

“The recent attack of Maxine Ralls has us questioning the police, once again,” blared the news anchor from the television. “Should we be losing faith in-”

“Ugh, not this garbage again,” his father groaned, taking the remote and turning off the TV. His laptop in front of him was already on. It was completely like him to bring his work home. Peeking at what was already being typed, Clyde could see it was another heavily opinionated article. The headline read, “The Hazards of Mutants.” Typical. His dad continued, “No mattah what the police do, those dang mutants keep making trouble.”

Clyde's eyes made a huge circle.  “Evah considah those articles may not be helping?” he muttered to himself, not expecting a response.

He got one anyways. “What if a mutant was able to kill someone just by thinking about it? People have a right to be safe from them.”

“Yeah? And what about people like me?”

“We've been through this befoh, Clyde.”  His expression was slightly stern as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look, I know you don't like yo condition, but-”

“Condition?”  Clyde quickly pushed his father's hand away.  “I think you know what it really is. I mean, how could you not see-”

“Let me finish,” his father interrupted, his appearance growing sterner. “Trying to be one of these 'mutants' is not going to make you feel any-”

“Trying to be one?” the age shifter gasped. “I am-”

“Listen to me!”

There was a bit of a pause. Both parties were now visibly angry. It wasn't the first argument they'd had, but this point, someone would have normally intervened. Maybe his mother was would have changed the subject or maybe Bryce would have cracked a horrendously stupid joke. But his mom wasn't home. His brother was off at college. There was nothing to stand between them.

His dad was the first to speak. “I understand that-”

“No! You don't understand!”  Clyde yelled at him.

“Quit being so difficult, Clyde! Why do you always have to cause problems?”

For a moment, Clyde looked up at him with stunned silence. “Well, I'm sorry you can't deal with it.”  His tone was quiet, but it was still angry. With that, he stormed away to his room.

“Clyde, wait!”  Clyde ignored him completely, slamming his door shut.

It was quite a while before Clyde heard his dad give up and leave his locked door. He was in no mood to let him in. Why would he want to talk with someone who thought he was difficult and a problem?

He sat on his bed and looked down at the floor. He hadn't told anyone, but, the past few months, his classmates were figuring him out, and it was hard to go anywhere on the school grounds without running into someone who would tease him for it. He didn't choose to stay a kid; it was beyond his control. He was never aiming to cause problems. It just wasn't fair. Part of him wanted to break down crying. No, no, he couldn't do that; he was too old for such a pitiful behavior. Nonetheless, he felt a few tears well up.

He really wished people actually understood him. Not many places liked mutants. Sometimes, he felt there was nowhere to go - or maybe there was.

There was only one form of support Clyde remembered: Xavier's Sister School. He'd written down the address from online quite a while ago. When he first heard about it, he wasn't eager too change schools a second time. Being a mutant school, it would mean that his appearance issue would be practically exposed to every student and teacher there.

But, that was then. He'd grown to resent his situation at his current school, and he now didn't want to be anywhere near his dad and his bigotry. Suddenly, this Mansion seemed a more appealing idea.

He pulled out the paper with the address from his desk. He wasn't really thinking things through, but he didn't want to stop to do so. Quickly, he gathered some of his belongs. A few pairs of shorts, a few shirts, an old outfit he'd “borrowed” from Bryce, and a couple other things were stuffed into his backpack.

In haste, he scrawled a note on a piece of paper. It read, “Left home. If you want to know why, ask Dad.” The age shifter left it on his desk to be found.

As far as he was concerned, his dad was back to work for his job he was so proud of. Clyde opened the window and climbed out. He got away from his house as fast as he could.