The art of tidying was not to be taken lightly.

That was why Ghost had dressed the part. She'd tucked her braided white hair beneath a handkerchief and put on overalls and music. Dust rag at the ready, the aeromancer got down to the meticulous work of removing books from shelves, dusting beneath those books, and then sending a swirl of dust-laden air out the Mansion's front doors.

For music, she chose Mika for the sheer booty shake factor. She made pretty good progress too until a slow one came on.

This is the way you left me,
I'm not pretending.

Well, it was still sing-a-longable.

No hope, no love, no glory,
No Happy Ending.

Maya dusted with a fury, aggravated rather than motivated by what she was listening to.

This is the way that we love,
Like it's forever.
Then live the rest of our life,
But not together.

Wake up in the morning, stumble on my life
Can't get no love without sacrifice
If anything should happen, I guess I wish you well
A little bit of heaven, but a little bit of hell

Maya threw her rag at the CD player knocking it off the circulation desk so it would stop. Instead it just kept skipping back to the last syllable it had played.

Hell, hell, hell, hell

The tidy floe of dust circled in on itself before unraveling in a most glorious POOF of grime that had all the occupants of the library dodging out into the hall in a chorus of coughing and gagging.

"I'm soooo sorry." Maya was right on the student's heels, powdered from head to toe in white and punctuating her apologies with coughs of her own. "I uhm, I got carried away. And. You know. These things happen."

Hell, hell, hell

"Is that that the time?!" She squeaked. Crap! Maya was supposed to meet the new kid in exactly 3, 2, 1... the door opened and to make up for the mess, Maya tried to be extra enthusiastic.

"Hi! Uhm. Welcome to—" Hell, hell, hell "Xavier's Sister School." Cough.

They'd said 'boarding school.' They hadn't said 'giant freaking Manson with a purple guy on the lawn.' The purple guy seemed to be sunbathing. He had less clothing on than Jiri was strictly comfortable seeing at a school. Lots of purple, broken only by khaki shorts. Even fresh from the psych ward, Jiri couldn't help but find this a little crazy.

“Mom,” Jiri did not point. There really wasn't a need. “Purple.”

His mother pushed a frizzy red lock from her eyes, and leaned forward, like she was trying to touch her nose to the windshield. “That is… really purple,” she agreed, with distinct trepidation.

“Mom.” He put a little puppyish edge to his voice, a little unspoken plea.

She put the car in park. As she did, a dog ran up to the purple guy and dropped a tennis ball on his chest. Purple guy tossed it away half-heartedly, and the dog started chewing him out. In a cultured British accent.

“Is it really so hard for your insipid mind to grasp the concept of fetch? Must we have this discussion every time, plebeian? One simply must throw the ball--”

Jiri put a hand on the window button, and held it until it rolled all the way up. Without the sound, it was easier to picture that the dog was just barking. “Moooom.”

His mother drummed her hands on the steering wheel, and let out a breath. “Okay. Right. Let's get your bags.”

She opened her car door, and he followed. He tried to keep it down, what with the dog. They had good hearing, right? Or was that racist?

“Mom I am not like these thin—these guys, seriously, I was looking online and there's this new sleep medication they're trialing, maybe I can get signed up for the study--”

“Jiri. You're possessing people.” She popped the trunk, and started wrestling his luggage out.

“Pretty sure I'm not.”

“Your sister said you did it to her.” She got the wheelie suitcase set up on the ground, extended its metal handle, and wrapped his fingers around it.

“If I could possess people, I would not be possessing a five year old.” Jiri found this to be a convincing argument. He didn't know why no one else did.

“Uh-huh. Turn around.”

He did, and she slipped a backpack over his shoulders. Purple guy and the dog were watching him, now, through the fence that surrounded the place. He suddenly felt very conspicuous, in his pink shirt and slacks. And the rainbow suspenders. It was like the first day of school all over again, but worse. So much worse.

He was going to die here. Of embarrassment, at the very least.

“I can put on my own backpack mom--”

She patted him on the back, and closed the trunk. They walked up to the gates together. Got buzzed in. The right wheel on his suitcase was squeaking. He'd never noticed it in busy airports, but it seemed really loud when a purple guy and a dog are watching you walk past, and the path up the school's lawn seemed really unnecessarily long.

They both stopped in front of the main doors. They were impressive. Big old wooden double doors. With knockers. Yep.

His mom opened them, and he trailed after like a shy puppy.

Hell, hell, hell, hell, hell--

People were running and coughing. Not all of them had the right number of limbs, or in the right locations. Nor were they all colors and shapes he associated with humanity.

Hell, hell, hell, hell, hell--

A spectre appeared from the trailing grime cloud.

“Hi! Uhm. Welcome to Xavier's Sister School."

Jiri tried one last time, one more call to sanity, an appeal to her basic human decency. “Mooooom.”

She was a ginger. She had no pity. “I'll call you on the weekend.” She clapped him on the shoulder, and gave him a little half-shove towards the apparition. She even forced a smile for the thing. “No backsies.”

And then she was hightailing it out of there, like any sane human would, like he really should be doing, but he was transfixed to the spot.

The figure was covered in dust. Or maybe anthrax. Or a skin condition? If it was her mutation was it rude to ask about it?

Jiri sneezed. He hoped she didn't take offense.

He clearly didn't want to be here. Maya had seen the signs in her own son, even if the whinge hadn't alerted her to his reluctance. Yes. Maya tried to nod her solidarity with mom of the red hair. No backsies.

"Bye! Your son is in good hands!" Well. She tried to be reassuring anyway.

Now... for the kid... Maya eyed him up and down. No obvious extras. He could still be in denial since he looked so human.

"Right. Everybody hold onto your loose items. We've gotta get this grime outta here." Maya waited a beat before adding, "And uh- Jason? Go make the CD player stop. Please?" She smiled at a smallish kid who'd been trying to clean off his glasses.

"Loose items secure?" She waited for Jason, the smallest of them all, to scamper back into the library. "3-2-1!" Now you see her. She took a deep breath and poof! Now you don't. All that was left behind was a sizable pile of dust.

An incorporeal Ghost whooshed around the foyer. Under her careful direction, wind tugged at clothes, ruffled hair, and had the dusty bits all back together in a matter of moments.

Ghost re-materialized in front of the main doors in order to open them and usher the dust and dirt she'd gathered outside. She came into her weight slowly, touching down onto her toes first.

"There. That's much better." She put a little extra spin on the last bit to go out the door and then turned back to Jiri, a full color version of herself again. "Did they tell you anything? Class schedule? Room assignment?" Or was this a dump and run? No, no. She'd known he was coming. Parents these days were so much more accommodating.

"Uhhhhh--"

Class schedules? Room assignments?

The lady was shorter than him. Which made him feel tall, and awkward, and he tried to slump his shoulders so it didn't look like he was looking down on her. His hands were white were they gripped his backpack straps.

"Uhhhh--"

She looked like a perfectly nice lady. She was white, like really white, like whiter-than-his-mom-in-winter white. Even her hair, or at least the strands of it he could see, the ones that had escaped her bandanna.

The last of the dust typhoon swirled out the doors behind him. In the distance, he thought he heard a dog cough. His suitcase tipped over, belatedly.

"No they did not tell me anything." That may have come out a bit more rushed than intended.

Nice poltergeist. Good poltergeist. Or was she a djinn? Dad told stories, but Jiri had always thought he was getting his leg pulled. But it fit: the whole guardian in the doorway thing, the wind effects. And the not being visible thing, they did that. He wasn't sure about the house cleaning, but sure, why not, who was to stop her if she wanted to? He wracked his brain, trying to remember what you do to appease djinn. Saucer of milk? No, that was brownies--

"Umm," he articulated, as other questionably human teens peered around doorways to get a look at the new kid. "Just so we're clear, I'm like 90% certain that I'm not supposed to be here. Just so you don't get angry. When you figure that out. They said I had to come here or the police would get involved and I'm pretty sure juvie would eat me alive."

He was tall, but he was a beanpole. A beanpole in a pink shirt, who got a B average in classes. Yeah. Juvie wasn't an option.

> "Uhhhhh--"

Maya tilted her head at the guy as he tried to process. Yep. Definitely big time denial.

The other kids were hanging around, probably waiting to see what the newbie could do, but the prolonged uhhs even had them worried. "I think you broke him."

"This isn't a spectator sport. Shoo." She swatted playfully after the kids. Some absconded to the grand staircase rather than leave completely, but at least the newbie had a bit more breathing room.

Either his brain caught up or the extra space was appreciated and the spell was broken with a quick mumble-blur of words.

"Oh, we can fix that." She kept her tone light. No need to scare the skittish one. "Let's go to the administration hall and pick up your welcome packet. I'm Maya by the way, but most people know me as Ghost around here. Can you touch others? I'll gladly shake your hand, if you're not a touch-type."

> "Just so we're clear, I'm like 90% certain that I'm not supposed to be here..."

She smiled and put out her hand all the same. "I won't be angry. A lot of kids start off that way. Even if you're 100% human, you wouldn't be the only one here at the Mansion. C'mon. This way." Maya pulled her bandanna off her head and stuffed it into one of the coverall's many pockets before leading the way down to the administrative hall. Of of the plastic bins next to Sam's doors should have his packet. Or maybe Gemma?

"Are you... Jiri? Or," Maya turned the other packet around to read the name, "Susan. Heh. Must be Jiri then." Jiri O'leary. Maya passed off a white envelope without commenting further on his name. Parents clearly didn't think that one through, did they?

"Inside you've got your room assignment, class schedule, a map, kitchen hours, rules. All that kind of stuff. Let's go find your room and get you settled."

Could he touch others?

"Uh yes? I think?" Hand shaking commenced. And then ceased. He absently rubbed his palm against his slacks. "So, ah, some people aren't safe to touch? Not safe like shoving a fork into a light socket, or not safe like the last key turn in a nuclear firing sequence?"

He made a note to ask people around here if they were safe to touch when he first met them. If the Ghost Djinn was asking, then it must not be rude. Made sense. If it really wasn't safe, then asking must just be a normal thing in the mutant community. Hi, I'm Jiri. Safe to touch. You? Cool, let's shake or: Cool, let me get my oven mitt on first.

He appreciated her efforts to shoo the mutant kids away. He'd followed her halfway up the staircase, suitcase dragging in one hand, before it really sunk in: she wasn't shooing mutants. She was shooing his classmates.

Those peeking around the edge of the banisters were treated to the sight of him tripping over air.

"So there are other humans here?" Oh god that came out racist. "I mean, not that you're not, but normal humans." He was making it worse he knew it but the words keep tumbling out-- "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with mutants, we just studied the Registration Act in my Social Studies class and I really don't agree with any of that--"

Oh god, did she have access to his school records? Because the teacher had split the class in half, and he'd been on the side that had to debate in favor of the Registration Act, and it was the only project he'd gotten an A on all year. Quick change the subject--

"This is a really big school. So like, drug money funding?"

That was supposed to be a joke. The seizure at the corners of his mouth was supposed to be a disarming smile.

He accepted his packet like a prisoner accepting their number. Room please yes. Then at least he could curl up under a bed and die.

"You know, it really depends on the touch thing. I always ask the new kids just in case because new kids are typically less versed in keeping their abilities in check. My son Jude, though, he doesn't typically shake hands. Not because it would hurt the other party, but because of the quirks of his power and how it relates to him. You know?" Well. No. He didn't. Not yet. But Jiri would if he could start to be honest with himself and start to enjoy being a mutant.

Maya took a glance at Jiri's room assignment. Hmm. Boy's hall. She motioned for Jiri to go first and steered him with a motion of her hand.

>"I mean, not that you're not, but normal humans."

"Some of the teachers are human. Maybe a teacher's kid or two, but the majority of the population here is bonafide x-gene positive." Juuuust like you, buddy. "You really won't offend me, Jiri so if you have questions feel free to ask. You're still learning this world and that gives you a lot of grace in my book. Ah. Here we are. Key is in your packet. Yep. Just shake it out."

She would let Jiri unlock the door and get a feel for what it felt like to walk into his own space. Because so far this room had only one occupant.

> "So like, drug money funding?"

"I don't think we have a hand in any drug running. Sorry. We've got enough excitement without adding in the illegal. It's mostly private donations, I'd wager. Some mutants are crazy good at making money." Like Donald Trump. Who knew?

"Is the room okay? Do you want some time to put your stuff away or do you want the grand tour?"

Create: Mental List, new

Title: Hands not to shake

Add Item: Jude

Subconcern: Ghost Djinn child?

Noted.

He made a noncommittal noise as this mental filing was in progress. Between staring too long at the people they passed while really trying not to, and gawking at the casual richness of his new school while trying to seem blasé, too much mental RAM was in use for him to manage much else. His family wasn't poor, but they definitely weren't... this.

Some of the teachers were human. Okay. That was... that was actually really okay. Classes sounded a little less terrifying, now.

He didn't take her up on her offer for questions. Not immediately. But he made a new mental list: Things he really, really wanted to ask, but they were probably stupid or racist or both.

He wanted to know whether he was supposed to feel like this was normal. Was he just supposed to get his blood work back, go "Oh hey, confirmed mutant, well I guess that's that"? Would he wake up tomorrow and look at a purple guy and just say "good morning" like it was nothing? Or did it take longer--three days, four, a week, a lifetime?

He wanted to know whether he was supposed to feel safe here, with all the things that had happened on the news while he was growing up. Like the casual mass murders: they'd had a retired cop come in and speak in the auditorium, about men who could grow twenty feet tall and smash buildings, about girls barely older than him who stabbed people with their own bones, about another who carved people up for furniture. He'd heard some people complaining afterward that it had been too graphic for kids, but he'd sat there and he'd listened and he'd absorbed the point the officer kept repeating, again and again: if he saw a mutant cutting lose, the only smart thing was to run. No normal human could deal with that.

He wanted to know he wasn't going to hurt anyone.

He wanted to know how to make this all go away, how to wake up, because while he was 96% sure he was awake right now, he remember back to when he took 100% certainty fore granted.

He shook the key out of his packet and managed not to drop any of the papers out while he did. The room was bright and cheerful. Big window, wood trim everywhere, the same expensive carpet as the hallway. There were two twin beds against the wall, both of them bare, one of them with a set of new white sheets and a pillow waiting on the foot. He'd stayed in college dorms before, during summer soccer camps. It was like that, but nicer.

He wanted to know if he was going to get a roommate and who or what they'd be and how to request that he stay alone in here, but that would probably not put him in the Ghost's good books.

He set his backpack down on a bed, and parked his wheelie suitcase neatly next to it.

"Yeah. It looks good." He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the bed and take a nap. But that wasn't really the sociable thing to do. And then she'd leave him alone, and he'd have to find his way around later, alone. "The tour, I guess?"

He found a reasonably safe question.

"How can you tell what kind of powers you have? How did you figure out yours?"

Jiri stood for a long while in front of his room. Or maybe it felt like a long while because Ghost could see the cogs turning in his head, but he didn't or wouldn't share any of what was going on there with her.

She could guess, though.

"You find a new normal." She tried to be gentle, but encouraging with her tone and expression. It was almost like a period of mourning. Death to an old way of life. "We all muddle through somehow." Maybe it was the momma bear in her, but Jiri really looked like he needed a hug. Somehow she resisted, instead smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from her coveralls.

Ghost lingered by the door as Jiri deposited his items. They always started with so little, so neatly packed. It wouldn't be long before the floor was covered, though, if her experience was any indication. She should talk to Sam about implementing a room check. A little tidiness never killed anyone.

"The tour it is then." He'd find his normal. Especially if he was willing to go out there and participate with the other mutant kiddos. "First let's hit the kitchen." Because growing boys could often be bribed into opening up with a fresh grilled cheese.

She took them to the stairs before Jiri found his words again.

> "How can you tell what kind of powers you have? How did you figure out yours?"

Fair question. She had to think back for a while before she could come to a conclusion. "It's been a while now. Uhm. I was luck I guess that I noticed the extra sensory things first. Air currents. That kind of thing. I think I thought I was going crazy, but I was scared witless about asking anyone about it. I didn't want to get registered. I definitely didn't want to go to the camps." Must not rub wrists. Must not rub wrists. The physical scars were gone now thanks to Sebastian. She almost wished they were still there. Having them gone almost made that period in her life feel made up. She had no proof so it was like it hadn't really happened.

"I still did, in the end, get registered, but I avoided it for a long time, I guess. A lot of what I do is intuitive to me. I also had a mother who was an elemental mutant similar in ability. I worked on control a lot before I went in, to help with hiding what I can do. Ah. I'm sorry... I don't feel that my answer was very helpful." Ghost scratched her neck at a loss with how she could help Jiri further in this way.

"Here's the kitchen. Granite counter tops, gleaming hardware, and a pantry that is perfectly raid-able for students." Ghost disappeared into the pantry and returned with a snackbag of nutterbutter cookies. "There are organized mealtimes, should be listed on your paper. Want one?" She opened the bag toward Jiri in case his stomach and eventually his heart could be bribed into liking it here.

There were cookies. He had one in his hand and halfway to his mouth before she'd even finished properly offering.

"Yesssh," he gave a green-eyed blink, cookie in mouth.

It tasted a little like mortification.

The Camps. She'd been there. And there he'd been, not ten minutes ago, casually dropping the Registration Act's name like... like it was something normal kids studied in school, and texted under the table to friends during the lectures, and took quizzes on. He felt like he'd worn an Obama mask to an NAACP meeting, or walked past a Holocaust survivor wearing a temporary tattoo of a swastika.

He hadn't seen her react at all when he'd mentioned it. And the way she was talking about it now, all mixed up with the story of her first learning her power... She sounded calm, she sounded like she'd dealt with whatever baggage it had long ago, she sounded like it had been a real place and she'd really been there. It hadn't sounded like that in school.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly a little dry. "Could I have some water?"

She must think he was so stupid, so ungrateful, so privileged to be finding out he was a mutant now. Going to a school full of kids like himself, a school that had scrounged him up nearly a full ride scholarship at the drop of a hat. She'd had to deal with things when it was illegal to be what she was, when people were being herded up and penned together. They were still working on identifying all the bodies in the Camp graveyard, his teacher had said.

She said he'd find a new normal. So maybe this was normal--this feeling of nothing being normal at all, of falling with no sign of the ground. Maybe he should try to act like he was a little more open to this place, before she truly hated him.

"Hey," he said, eyes on the new cookie he'd just grabbed. "Do you have a soccer team here?"

She wasn't sure what she'd done wrong. Maybe the cookies were stale? Or, or maybe mentioning being afraid was the wrong tack. Maya did something to spook the kid and she regretted it immediately even though she had no clue what she'd done.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean..." Well she did mean everything she'd said. Ghost held her hands out in a placating manor while she regrouped her thoughts. "Please forget it. I really didn't mean to upset you."

Of course water. Water was easy! She could do water. Ghost went to the cupboard and filled the glass with ice and then water from the refrigerator door. She presented it to him with one hand beneath the cup and a slight dip of the head. An apology in the form of water service.

Did they have a soccer team? "I've seen the kids playing games between residents. I'm not sure mutants are allowed to play against normal human intramural teams. It'd be too difficult to tell if a power interfered." She shrugged another apology. "There's basketball and swimming intramural events too."

She was apologizing. Oh god why was she apologizing, what had he done--

He gripped the water glass between his hands. "No, don't--I'm sorry, I'm not upset, I mean I should be the one apologizing for what I said--"

He was babbling and that was probably making it worse. Somehow. If he knew what he'd done, he'd at least be able to fix it. He settled for drowning his awkwardness in water.

glug glug glug

He'd just finished the cup when she ruined his life.

No soccer. He'd been assuming she'd say yes. Or maybe no, and he could get something started. It wasn't like he didn't know the local leagues; he could have talked to his coach, maybe, see what it took to join. But no. They didn't have a team because they couldn't play other schools. Because regular kids couldn't trust mutant kids not to cheat.

His mouth opened and closed for a moment. When he finally forced the word out, it was a little squeaky, a little bit of a throwback to puberty. "Okay."

Okay. No soccer. Okay.

There went his last tie to normal.

"So what do your kids do to stay out of trouble? Costume making and vigilantism?" He shut his mouth, flushing a slow crimson. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that..."

Except he kind of did. He could follow the news like anyone else, and there were those mutant-watching blogs, like the Audubon X Society. It didn't take a genius to know the X-Men were based out of Xaviers.

"I just crushed one of your hopes." Maya took a seat at the bar behind the kitchen sink out of desperation. The kid seemed to need some tie to his old life in order to make his way as a mutant. He wouldn't find his mutant identity in a day, but she had hoped they could find some bridge between worlds. Were mutants and humans really that different?

"You joke, but they probably would if there weren't rules against that kind of thing. A lot of kids think that's what they want here." Ghost ran her finger along a light colored vein in the marble countertop. They didn't know until they got into the field on a mission that there were sewers, traps, and bad, bad men.

Was he a telepath? Ghost straightened up and tried to banish the scary thoughts she'd been harboring. That was how the kids got into trouble. Jiri had asked about staying out. "Do what you normally do, Jiri. Read a book. Text your classmates. Be a student. Believe it or not, these kids want to find their normal too. It's just that this normal comes with a little extra."

Should he say something? Try to make her feel better? The look on her face was about as bad as he felt. There really wasn't a point.

Hope. Crushed.

“Yeah,” he admitted, joining her in sitting down, an empty stool between them, “you kind of did. Not your fault.” The last came out as a bit of a mumble.

Normally? Normally he'd be at soccer camp for the summer. But he hadn't even signed up this year, hadn't even been able to go through the motions. With his narcolepsy, with all the meds he'd been trying, his coach had asked him to sit the summer out. Just until you're through this, the man had said, Just until you're better.

He wasn't much of a reader. Didn't really play video games, either. He had to be outside, he had to be moving. He could text his friends, but half of them were still wigged out about what he'd done at school, half of them would be at camp with nothing but soccer stories to talk about, and half of them were in both categories. He could just picture them talking with the other teams.

Hey, where's Jiri? Not coming this year?

Didn't you hear? He stabbed a kid with a plastic knife and got hauled away to a mutant boarding school.

Normal. She kept using that word: find your normal, new normal, what you normally do. He felt like he was living in the Princess Bride. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Jiri ran a hand through his hair, his fingers briefly tangling in his curls. And the worst part? The worst part was he couldn't even vent about it, because every other kid here was going through the same thing. It would just be stupid self-pity if he did.

He crossed his arms, put his head down on top of them. Maybe it would be easier to talk about this if he wasn't facing her.

“I'm so tired, all the time. And I just feel like I need to scream, but that would be like saying I'm special, and I know I'm not, I know we all go through this. I'm not special--”

--I'm just a mutant.

He was halfway through speaking when he realized he was looking down on himself, from a seat away. He raised a hand in front of his face, splayed the fingers. They were white—whiter than his mom in winter white.

“Oh,” he said, in a voice distinctly more refined, and distinctly more feminine than his own. “Shit.”

She opened her mouth and reached out to reassure him somehow. Everybody felt that way sometimes. Instead, what came out from her lips was a surprised sounding "Oh Shit." Capital S Shit. Her fingers stretched in front of her face, her eyes focusing on the slender digits without her permission.

Language! She tried to say. But that didn't make it any further than her attempt to comfort Jiri.

Jiri! She was looking at him now, head bowed on the counter. No. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking at his body. He's asleep. Jiri! Is he-? Are you-? Suddenly she felt silly asking questions in her head. It wasn't like he could hear her, could he?

Ghost was standing now, the bar stool she'd been perched on was still wobbling. She didn't remember standing. Did she do that? Did... Jiri?