The sign on the building read, “Ye Olde Used Books” in curved, old-timey lettering. It was accompanied by a fading picture of a knight on top of his loyal steed, sword extended in a victorious pose. The front of the store was weather-worn and looked a little used itself, but there was an undeniable, warm coziness emanating from it. Through the tarnished windows, one could see a few patrons perusing second-hand shelves for second-hand books, the fifty-something-year-old owner patiently waiting for customers at the checkout desk (which was really just a table with an old cash register perched on top of it). He was thumbing through a threadbare copy of The Devil in the White City, clothed comfortably in a plain, navy blue t-shirt and faded blue jeans.

Alice had discovered the establishment through one of her classmates, who cited it as the best used bookstore in the city. Or at least in the vicinity of Xavier’s, which the teenager was still hesitant to venture beyond. She had only been at the school for one month and was still getting used to it. She didn’t want to explore much more outside of it yet.

But she was in need of books, because one could never have enough of those. And second-hand books were much more accommodating to her meager, teenage budget than the ones at high-end bookstores. And she didn’t really like borrowing books from the library because...well, she never remembered to return them. Those fines would end up costing more than the books themselves.

The door jingled as she pulled it open, cheerfully skipping into the store. Instantly she was hit with the scent of...paper. Dusty paper, stained paper, ancient paper. And a little bit of gingerbread too, strangely. The girl smiled at the grizzled owner as she dove into the multitudinous shelves, trying to figure out how things were organized. She scrutinized the smudged labels, trying to figure out if they listed names or genres or time periods or something else entirely. Hmm...

Alice’s peaceful perusing, however, was interrupted by a particularly obnoxious male voice. His words oozed with slime and grease, slathering his pitiful attempt at a pass on a poor, unsuspecting victim. She was blonde, petite, and pretty, and probably did not want some older creep hitting on her. Or at least she didn’t look like she was enjoying it. Alice cringed as the slimeball continued to corner his victim.

“Oh giiiirl, you are lookin’ foine this afternoon. Mmmhm, honey. You are just my type.”

She thought she might gag. So. Gross.

Elizabeth Sundance was not your average girl. She was scared of dying in a fire. She thought one ear was slightly larger than the other. She wore an excessive amount of wristbands to hide her wrists from anyone’s sight. She was born with a genetic anomaly that enabled her to become one with an animal’s emotions or transfer her mind into theirs. She had been kidnapped, held hostage, and scared out of her mind almost a dozen times in two years. She’d faced lion-men, killer deathworms, mobs of mutant-non-loving humans, and muggers with knives and unmarked vans.

But even she wasn’t prepared for what fate had placed in her path this time.

The guy was maybe four inches taller than her (that is to say, quite short). He had a scraggly goatee thing on his face, as if it was the first one he’d ever grown and never shaved it off. A volcano of a zit perched above his right eye, as if it would explode at any time and rip off half the guy’s face. His cheeks were pockmarked, most likely a result of terrible acne problems. His black hair was as greasy as his voice; Liz desperately hoped that was a result of product and not just a lack of proper hygiene.

He reeked of Axe. A skunk would’ve been overpowered. His halitosis still managed to announce itself, though. Based on that and the rectangular packet sticking out of his black, sagging, skinny jeans, Liz extrapolated that he was a smoker. A sleazy smile danced on his face, matched by a disgusting leer the dude had probably intended as a smoulder. The sleeves of his white-with-navy-vertical-stripes button-down shirt were rolled up, showing off a pathetic lack of muscle and what looked suspiciously like a temporary tattoo of a bleeding skull on his left bicep mass of bumpy skin.

Liz would’ve much preferred being held hostage by crazy gunmen or huddling in a burning church. At least then she had hopes of survival.

Even as he let off a repulsive string of what a perverted, alternate dimension would consider compliments, the guy attempted to nonchalantly lean forward and put his hand on the bookcase beside Elizabeth’s head, as if he were some cool, high school jock with his girlfriend. And if Liz hadn’t been so thoroughly disgusted, she probably would’ve started crying.

“Oh, uh, that’s nice,” the victim babbled, while still attempting to retain a modicrum of decency. “But, uh, you see, um....” What could she say? What would it take? Inspiration struck her and she went with it.

“I’m gay,” she said, pushing pride into her voice. “Like a rainbow with unicorns and flowers all over it in one big ol’ happy love fest.” Please, God, let this work. Oh please please please plea--

“Hey, that’s cool,” the creeper drawled. “I’m up for a little experimentin’.”

Horror flashed over Elizabeth’s face and she involuntary twisted a bit to the side, her hands coming up to cover her torso.

Alice watched as the older girl struggled to come up with an answer to the creep, and waffled between going to her rescue or staying put and minding her own business. She didn’t really have any experience in dealing with greasy-haired punks, save for what she saw on comedic television (which taught her some very questionable techniques), and was afraid things would end quite badly if she got involved. She might make a bad situation even worse, or become the creep's second target. But at the same time...she couldn’t just stand by and watch the blonde girl be verbally assaulted! As a decent human being, the teenager had to save her!

Agh, inner turmoil!

Fortunately, inspiration seemed to strike the victim, who promptly announced that she was gay, elaborating with a fluffy description. Nice save! Alice thought, sighing in relief. She began to return to the bookshelves, crisis averted. There was no way the guy wouldn’t back off with that declaration, right?

“Hey, that’s cool. I’m up for a little experimentin’.”

Wrong. Ewwww. The brunette could no longer stand it. She had to stop that travesty! And fast! Because it seemed the slimeball was shuffling closer and closer to his victim, fingers twitching in anticipation.

“Hey! You creep! Get away from that lady!” she called out, darting up to him and poking him square in the chest, “Can’t you see how obviously uncomfortable she is? And how creepy you’re being?” She shook her head in dumbfoundedness as she spat out her slightly redundant statement. Some people were just such idiots.

The creep twisted his face in annoyance and pushed her hand away. “Hey, little girl, this is grown-up talk. I suggest you go back to your mommy and daddy and stop spying on people.” His words contained the utmost levels of condescension and venom a person could muster.

Alice scoffed at the rude rebuttal, but found herself at a loss for words. She did not know how to fight back to someone so...mean. And he was way older! Wasn’t he supposed to be more mature than that? Though...then again...a mature young adult would not be trying to pick up innocent high school chicks, nor would they be picking on them.

“Well...well, you’re just a freaking jerk!” Wow. Brilliant reply.

This guy was like a car wreck. No matter how horrible, tragic, and terrible it is, one still has to stop and stare at it. As horrified as she was, Elizabeth could not take her eyes away from the humanoid slime-mold attempting to come on to her. She could almost feel the scar tissue forming in her brain. Nightmares where undoubtedly going to plague her for years. She’d probably start screaming whenever she saw “cool” guys. Or just pass out whenever she saw a guy with hair gel.

This guy was kind of like Vietnam. When people would suddenly have flashbacks of their experiences there and feel like they were still there. They’d break out in sweat or suddenly dive or attempt to protect innocent bystanders from enemy fire that no longer existed. Liz was certain that one day, she was going to start having flashbacks to this moment. She’d remember the feeling of slime dripping into her soul and the feeling of being corrupted by such a pervasive creeper.

What kind of sick, desperate, perverted freak IS this guy?! To approach a random girl in a bookstore and attempt to allude to so many things with her when it was pretty obvious she wanted to do nothing better that sterilize him from the planet? Or fall into a black hole, rather than risk terminal contamination? Where were all the Hazmat suits when you really needed one? Alone in her personal torture chamber, boxed in by books and grime, Liz was about to resign her fate and was about to start praying when a voice broke through the nastiness surrounding her and called away the attention of Oil Slick.

A girl, no more than five years younger than her, charged up to the weirdo and began putting him in his place. With an obvious expression of sudden hope, Liz ducked underneath the arm and managed to slip out from the small space the Slime Man had corralled her into. Now she had access to fresh air and placed the guy between the two girls, preventing him from being able to focus all of his attention on either one. Because as glad as Liz was to escape his terrible attentions, she could not leave some poor, innocent girl to suffer the same fate.

And although the girl seemed capable of handling herself, things changed when Skunk-spray rounded on her. And although his particularly horrible and annoying response did not cow the girl, it seemed to have shaken her up. And it got Elizabeth’s blood pumping.

Okay, maybe she didn’t have it in her to even be rude to the guy when he was only creepily hitting on her, but Liz was certainly not going to stand for him berating a young girl with such rudeness and hostility. Acting as judge and jury, the blonde weighed the balance in her mind. Creeper? Check. Disgusting as all get out? Double-check. Downright mean and nasty? Oh, you’d better believe it.

A detached look of cool judgement masked Elizabeth’s face. Her eyes narrowed and she sized the creep up, noting his stance and weight shift. With his back to her, he would be unable to even see a bit of what she was doing, but the girl could probably see every bit of it. Liz glanced around, taking stock of her surroundings. Nobody was in sight, which was perfect for what she had in mind. She also just so happened to be in a reference section for pets and such, since she’d planned on buying a guide to taking care of parrots. And the beauty of that aisle was in the amount of heavy, heavy tomes within.

Selecting one such item from a shelf, she silently slid it from its slot and tested its weight in her hands. Deeming it acceptable, she gripped it with both hands, held it to the side of her head, and then struck the guy across the back of his head with all of her might. He let out a short squawk (not unlike a parrot) and started falling forward. But Liz wasn’t finished yet. Splaying her arms out for balance, she swung her booted foot up in a short, quick arc that connected at the junction between the guy’s legs, eliciting a mournful groan from the guy and changing the angle of his forward fall into a sudden vertical collapse.

“Sorry, but we’re not interested.”

He laughed. New York’s biggest, meanest jerk laughed in her face. Alice’s clenched her fists as she watched the slimeball continue to make an immature idiot out of himself. She told herself that his derisive laughter would not affect her, that one fool’s badgering did not matter. But she felt prickling at the corners of her eyes nonetheless, a warning of tears to come if he did not stop, or if she did not vacate the scene. Sometimes her sensitivity was a strength, but at times like those, the girl really wished she was a little tougher.

She rolled her eyes to pretend she was wholly unaffected by his snickering and crossed her arms tightly. “Geez, do you know what mouthwash is? Because you are in serious need of some, buddy.” It wasn’t that great of a jab, but Alice never claimed to be good at being mean.

The comment shut the jerkface up for a moment, and his expression grew increasingly vexed. “Listen, princess. Leave us alone. You don’t want to make me do anything I’ll regret.”

The teenager couldn’t help but let out the loudest pffft. Oh, so now he was a tough guy? Threatening girls years younger than him? Yeah, he was real cool. Alice muffled a snicker as she noticed the blonde girl surreptitiously pull out a rather heavy-looking book from a neighboring shelf, a look of cool calculation on her face. She obviously had some plan, though Alice could not fathom it. Was she going to read him to death? Bore him with words he probably did not understand (if he was even literate)?

Oil Slick made a growl-like noise in response to the girl’s giggling and began to turn back to his original victim, who had managed to sneak behind him while he was distracted. “Ah! Wait!” the fourteen-year-old yelled in panic, not wanting him to discover the blonde girl’s schemes, whatever they were, and ruin them.

“Ugh, what do you wa--GAH!”

His hurt expression spoke volumes as he swayed forward, eyes crossed with dizziness and pain. Alice’s hands covered her mouth as she gasped, shocked that the older girl could do something like that. And the blonde wasn’t even finished yet. No, she had one more blow to make, which she did in rapid succession. Oooh, he’s going to feel that for days. They watched as the creep crumpled to the ground, groaning in regret and agony.

“Sorry, but we’re not interested.”

It was official: that girl was a badass.

“Hey! What are you kids doing back there?” the store owner exclaimed, irritation clear in his tone. She could hear him shuffling, getting up from his stool to investigate what had just transpired in between the shelves. Uh-oh.

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Alice grabbed the other girl’s hand and tugged her towards the exit, not wanting either of them to get caught in such an incriminating scene. “We’re sorry, sir! You have a great shop! See you later!” she called out as she and the blonde flew past the owner and the exit, the bell jingling with as much force as she had pushed open the door. They did not stop until a solid distance lay between them and the bookshop.

Hands on her knees, hunched over and panting hard, the younger girl wheezed out an appropriate summary of events, “That was...crazy... You’re...kind of...awesome...”

Ignoring the pain in the creep’s voice, Elizabeth set the encyclopedia back on its shelf, just in time to hear the owner of the shop start asking around as to what occurred. With a glimmer of guilt over what she’d done (but only a glimmer; Grease Stain had totally deserved it) Liz was about to own up to what she’d done, but the younger girl had other plans. Allowing herself to be pulled along, Liz shortly joined the girl in a frantic sprint out of the shop and through the streets.

When finally they stopped, Liz imitated the other girl, leaning forward and supporting her hands on her knees, similarly gasping for breath. Oh man, she really needed to start jogging or something. Who knew when she’d need to do this again? “Heh, yeah,” she gasped, struggling to respond while simultaneously trying to breathe. “It was....wasn’t it. And...thanks.” She gave the girl a victorious grin before finally standing up straight.

The blonde pushed some hair out of her face, forcing it behind her ears and over her shoulders. Running through the windy streets of New York was terrible for fancy hairstyles. Fortunately, Liz hadn’t been wearing one, but it was annoying, just the same. She took a step away from the flow of people and leaned against the stone wall of a building, attempting to rest without having to sit down. The run was....exhilarating. That tinge of danger without any real repercussions. Kind of stress-relieving, actually.

After a few moments more, Liz finally managed to get her breathing down to a rate that could pass itself off as somewhat normal, despite the pounding of her heart. “Thanks for the save,” she told the younger girl. “That would’ve been a terrible fate, otherwise.” And no, she wasn’t talking about getting caught by the shop-owner. “And I didn’t catch your name. I’m Liz.” She wiped sweat off her hand before sticking it out in a merry gesture of greeting.

Alice mirrored the older girl’s grin, her breathing finally beginning to slow. She was not an athlete, and that mad dash had definitely taken a lot out of her. She was not doing that again anytime soon, that was for sure...

During the short moment of silence, she couldn’t help but giggle over the ridiculousness of what had just gone to pass. Eventually, she straightened her back and shook out her tangled mess of windblown hair, running a careless hand through it. The teenager had a vague fear that she resembled a lion with her wavy locks in such a tumult, but for the moment she simply did not care.

The chilly autumn breeze sent subtle shivers down her back, through the gaps in her oversized sweater and maroon scarf. It would be nice to find a cozy shelter, she thought.

“Thanks for the save. That would’ve been a terrible fate, otherwise. And I didn’t catch your name. I’m Liz.”

The girl giggled and shook Liz’s hand, perhaps a little too energetically. “It was no problem! If anything, thank you for giving that jerk what he deserved,” she replied, ever-smiling and bubbly, “I’m Alice! It’s really nice to meet you.” There was something about getting to knoew new people that made her extra spastic.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? It’s kind of cold out here.”

The brunette's--Alice’s--smile was infectious and Elizabeth quickly found herself mimicking her. The girl seemed to be a bright young thing, wild and exuberant and rascally as a squirrel, if her current and previous mannerisms were anything to go by. Liz had actually had personal experiences with squirrel mindsets before, so she was toying with the idea of treating Alice like one.

After all, she did seem pretty given to scoldings. The blonde’s lips quirked into a broader smile at the thought.

“It was my pleasure,” Liz responded, a flash of violent joy ablaze in her eyes. Self-satisfaction glinted off her pearly whites. “And it’s rather nice to meet you as well.” Already, Liz felt like there was a bond between them, like the kind that tended to form between people who all survived the same plane wreck.

“Yeah, it is a bit chilly out,” Liz replied amiably. Then she stopped and tilted her head a bit. “You know what? What would you say about some ice cream and then some hot chocolate? My treat,” the teen said, deciding she could simultaneously spurge, reward the girl’s bravery, and perhaps get a chance to possibly get to know her. It could never hurt making a new friend, especially in a city full of so many people like New York. And besides, who knew when she’d ever need help again in fending off a human garbage dump?

Fortunately, there just happened to be an ice cream shop within sight of them, and Liz knew there was a coffee shop around the corner, one that she frequented, that sold the best peppermint mochas and hot chocolate in the world. But ice cream sounded much better at the moment. With her mind made up and figuring that Alice would probably acquiesce (since what kid truly passes up the chance for free ice cream?) Liz started walking along towards the cross-walk. After all, jaywalking was bad and the ice cream place was on the other side of the street.

She was glad Liz was so inclined to spend time with her. The blonde girl was certainly older than her and seemed more mature (kicking of jerks in sensitive places aside), a combination that usually clashed with Alice's child-like persona, but it did not seem to cause any issues, at least not yet. If anything, they were getting along pretty well, both quite friendly and energetic. And it was nice to escape from all of the...angst and drama and confusion plaguing her life recently. Not that things were going badly for at Xavier’s. It was just what she had left behind that she was worried about.

“It was my pleasure. And it’s rather nice to meet you as well. Yeah, it is a bit chilly out. You know what? What would you say about some ice cream and then some hot chocolate? My treat.”

Alice instantly brightened up even more (if that was even possible) at the prospect of hanging out with Liz and receiving free sweets at the same time. Of course, she felt a bit bad for freeloading off of the older girl when she could have paid for her own ice cream and cocoa, but for the moment she would accept the offer. Some people were quite insistent on such matters, and Alice did not want to turn off or offend Liz by refusing. “That sounds awesome!” she squealed, slightly breathless with excitement.

She quickly followed behind Elizabeth as they crossed the street, trusting in her knowledge of the area. “So do you live around here?” she asked, though she instantly regretted it. It was expected that such a question would be posed on her after she received an answer, as introductory conversations tended to go, and she had no idea how she would answer. How did she explain that she lived at a boarding school for mutants without getting completely stigmatized? (And denied ice cream!) Anxiously, she waited for a response.

Elizabeth allowed herself a private smile at Alice’s eagerness. She could hear the younger girl keep pace by her as they plodded across the street and finally mingled in with the steady flow of pedestrians on their target sidewalk. Well, most people would assume they were mingling. Liz, at least, managed to somehow stay at least two feet from everybody. Even from the elderly-seeming woman slowly walking down the street. There would be no elbow rubbing for her. Just in case.

Now, Alice seemed like a pretty talkative girl. That made Liz’ smile stretch a bit more. A lively soul, so far Alice seemed like a pretty good person. And the conversation would go anywhere deep or--

Uh. Never mind. Oh, how am I going to answer this small child’s question? The first thing that had popped into her mind had been the exact title of the sister school, but if anybody knew about it (and quite a few people probably did) then that would imply that Liz was a mutant. And she didn’t want people knowing she was a mutant. If they did, they could turn on her, accuse her of dreadful things, and wound her deeply. Just like before. It was just easier to stay away from people. And not even touch them, in fact.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I live on campus at a gifted school just a bit away.” Oh great. Now she’s going to think I’m a stuck-up preppy snob. Why did I say “gifted”? Why didn’t I just say I lived at school? Or something else entirely. But it was too late to take her words back, and she had not been fortunate enough to have been born with time-manipulation abilities. Bummer.

“What about you? You live nearby?” That’s Liz, alright. Rapier wit and sly as a fox. And possibly deflecting the attention from her back to Alice a bit brusquely, perhaps. She also picked up a bit of speed, as Jen and Berry’s Ice Cream-A-Palooza came into view. ‘Twas a quaint old place, as one could tell by the exterior, but one could also feel the old, homely aura about the place.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I live on campus at a gifted school just a bit away.”

She nodded, eyes widening just a bit. Liz must’ve been really smart if she went to such a school, though she seemed wholly nonchalant about it. A gifted school, huh? That was sort of funny, since Alice went to a “gifted” school too... She felt herself deflate a little at the reminder. Great, now Liz is going to find out I’m a mutant because I suck at lying...and she’s going to hate me for it. Or at the very least find her odd, perhaps even freakish. That was, at least, the reaction she usually got from non-mutants.

“What about you? You live nearby?”

Ah...and there was the cursed question... The fourteen-year-old took a deep breath before answering, until something conveniently came into view and―

“Whoa! Is that the ice cream place?” she asked, only half-feigning excitement. The old-style parlor had an inviting aura, beckoning the two girls to enter the store. Alice hurried alongside Liz, “forgetting” to answer the hanging question in favor of heading into Jen and Berry’s.

“It’s cool that you know the city so well. I’ve only been here a month, and honestly, I’m scared to go anywhere in case I get lost,” she said with a sheepish smile, holding the door open for her companion. Inside there were only a few people, along with the kindly, older matron behind the counter, the late afternoon commonly a slow time of business.

“I mean, I like it here, but it’s sooo different from San Francisco.” It was safe to reveal where she was from, right? Or was she getting too personal again? Alice wasn’t sure where the lines were anymore.

Alice didn’t answer her question. Well, with all the noise in the area, the girl probably just didn’t hear it. Elizabeth thought about repeating herself, but she stopped herself. What if repeating the question made the girl suddenly think that she’d accidentally not heard Liz? And felt embarrassed or something about accidentally ignoring her? Liz decided to let it go. It wasn’t really an important question, and Liz didn’t really think she had the right to force the question upon her.

Besides, the girl was quickly distracted by something (which is all Liz had wanted the question to accomplish, anyways). “Yep! This is the place!” she responded merrily. “And don’t worry too much about getting lost. You’ll start picking things up after awhile. But it never hurts to carry one of these, anyways.” With that, Liz flashed a heavily annotated map of New York City at the brunette before gracefully stepping through the politely opened door.

Liz allowed herself a moment’s pause, content to soak in the rich atmosphere of a bygone decade. An honest-to-God jukebox was playing the latest hits from the 70s in the corner. The black and white tiles on the floor matched the plastic red booths and the stools surrounding the counter. The whole thing made her just want to break out into some sort of show tune or whatever, about teenage love or just the thrill of life.

Fortunately enough for everyone there, Liz had more self-control than that.

“San Francisco, eh?” Liz remarked. “So does this mean you’re one of those California Girls?” It was a harmless bit of fun, aimed more so towards the famous song of the same name than Alice. “I’m from Jersey, myself. But nowhere near the shore.” After all, she wasn’t going to open herself up to the same kind of joke.

By that point, Liz was at the counter, right by a cash register. “So, ya see anything you want?” she asked, her brown gaze scanning the menu already. A lot of the flavors were classics, but the place has some unusual ones as well, not to mention basic modern flavors that certainly hadn’t been around fifty years ago. Then there were combinations, then deals where you could customize your ice cream, options as to in a bowl, cup, or cone, and what material you wanted each thing made of (you could waffleize anything). In short, it was a regular ice cream buffet.