It was one of those rainy days where the rain drops simply sapped the energy out of you. The simple act changing the channel on the TV was on par with having teeth pulled. No homework was being done, the stack of laundry was still waiting patiently on the bed to be put away. Locke even broke his usual rule about junk food and ordered a large pizza and bread sticks. There was some unease in his stomach. His dictionary now was noticeably thicker with pictures being sent to him. If he could find his thesaurus he'd use that. Kendra, whenever she was too tired to cook, or if there was a need for comfort food their favorite pizzeria would get a call.

The pizza arrived on time, and thanks to the wonders of the pizza delivery bag the box didn't get too damp. Locke paid for it and hurriedly dashed back to the safety of the living room. It was cold and wet outside, a combination of weather events that Locke hated with great intensity. Nobody in their right mind would want to go out into that. Locke opened up the box with the pizza, soaking in the warmth that spilled out of it, and feeling a little energy settle into his chest. "Papa John's, I could marry you," he murmered, admiring the tasty blend of colors. Amazing how the prospect of grease and cheese could perk one up.

Foolishly Locke set the box down open on a coffee table as he went into the kitchen, a new found bounce in his step. It hadn't occurred to him to order a soda with his pizza, nor that leaving an open box in a building full of teens was a bad idea. He shouldn't have been shocked upon returning to notice a missing slice, but he was. "Pizza?" Locke asked of the box. There still was more than enough for him to have a meal, but it felt like learning that Santa wasn't real.

Rule number one of pizza-reserving etiquette-- do not leave your pizza unattended on the table. Doing so makes it free game. Rule number two was that, if you were foolish enough to leave said pizza on the table, it had better have anchovies on top of it.

Gina sauntered into the empty living room, hit by the aroma of fresh, warm pizza. She spied the telltale box upon the counter, trotted over and peered into the box. And, it was a virgin pizza, not a single slice yet removed from the whole! Such luck!

True, it would have been more considerate to leave the pizza be and ask for a piece when the person who purchased it returned, but Gina didn't think ahead that far. She just took a slice, humming happily as she did so, and went to some out-of-sight corner of the living room.

As she did so, the pizza patron returned. This, Gina didn't notice, at first.

>> "Pizza?"

Gina looked up inquiringly, the missing piece, already nibbled, in her delicate grasp.

"Yeah, it's really good," Gina began to explain cheerfully, before spying his face. He didn't look excited, he looked sad. Gina broke off awkwardly, looking at the pizza slice in her hand. It all suddenly seemed to dawn on her-- oh, so the pizza hadn't been up for grabs.

"I'm sorry, you can have it back!" she said quickly, "I only nibbled off a tiny bit."

She had taken the first slice of the pizza. Everyone knows that the first slice is the best one. The crust hasn't had a chance yet to soak up the flavor of the cardboard, the grease wasn't congealed, and the sauce had the most kick to it. What's more she had taken the first bite. The breadsticks thankfully were untouched. Still, the first bite of the first slice. Locke stood, staring blankly at the much desired first slice held in her hand.

At least she was offering it back to him. Gross.[/i] Locke didn't even take bites from Chris or Mai's food. Clean as he might be, Locke wasn't a germaphobe. Saliva though. Ugh. That was crossing a line. "You keep it," he managed to say. Unable to hold her gaze for long Locke turned his attention to the pizza. With his spare hand he grabbed a slice and bit into it. He should have known better, really. "I mean you started it."

>> "You keep it. I mean, you started it."

Maybe not sad anymore, now he just seemed bothered. The boy helped himself to a piece, to which Gina just shrugged and went on humming cheerfully.

"Oh, okay-- thanks," she said in a singsong voice, continuing to dance around. If it were any consolation, she added on, "I would've torn the contaminated part off, if you said so."

It wasn't that she picked up on any outward disgust, some people just weren't that communal about food. Especially boys. But, it was to late to turn back now-- given the go-ahead, she sank her teeth into the pizza. Gina continued pacing around the living room, incapable of sitting still. Her tail flicked absentmindedly behind her.

"What's your name?" Gina asked, apparently incapable of being quiet as well, "I don't think I've seen you before." He had mismatched eyes and dark hair, tall in proportion to Gina, but everybody was. If she had seen him before, Gina would recognize him, and she didn't.

Locke tore into his slice with the ferocity of a raptor with a fresh kill. It wasn't as though he was starving to death. There was of course a good amount of hunger there, Locke was a growing boy, but watching Gina dance around was exhausting. Who could possibly be that perky on a rainy day? Didn't she know that they were meant for sleeping in and holding down couch cushions? Maybe she was as thrilled with the pizza as he had been. "There's breadsticks too," he mumbled.

Well he wasn't heartless! If a pizza slice made her dance around like it was a Charlie Brown holiday special then might as well give her the side dish as well. Locke grabbed two sticks for himself and took a seat on the couch. The downside to Papa John bread sticks was their lack of seasoning. It forced you to use their garlic dipping sauce, but they never gave you enough. "Locke," he offered in way of an introduction. He noticed that Gina hadn't given her name yet. "I keep to myself mostly. Hand me the jalapeno?"

Perhaps Gina was a rare breed of teen, but rainy days simply didn't exercise the same influence over her as it did over other students-- quite the opposite, really. While other students listlessly oozed about the Mansion, Gina was practically reverberating with energy. She was invigorated by the rain. She didn't even like the rain-- quite the contrary. She loathed the rain with a catlike vehemence. She was simply so full of energy when it rained, because foul weather meant no flying, and no flying meant stir-craze. Unfortunately, when Gina got stir-crazy, people were liable to have to peel her off of the walls.

>> "There's breadsticks, too."

"There are?" Gina countered, a bit too eagerly. No one was to be decieved by her small stature-- she could really pack food away. She hefted her gaze towards lock, thin brow arching inquiringly. Was this some sort of test? Were the breadsticks really up for grabs, or was he trying her, to see if she'd go after the breadsticks, just as she'd gone after the pizza? The boy took a few for himself, so Gina figured that the permission was genuine.

"Wow, thank you," Gina smiled, trotting over and plucking out a single breadstick, "That's very generous of you." The boy went over to flop onto the couch, while Gina continued her fidgetting. She couldn't sit with all of this energy simmering within her.

>> "Locke... I keep to myself mostly. Hand me the jalapeno?"

A shy one? That explained it. Gina didn't know many of those sorts. Then again, the shy ones usually bolted from her. She was a very strong personality to have to cope with. Gina liked quiet people, though-- it gave her license to speak more, in compensation for their shortspoken-ness.

"Sure," Gina agreed, in regards to the jalapeno request. She delicately pinched the stem of the jalapeno between two claws, and with jalapeno dangling precariously over the floor, she escorted it over to Locke. Rather than circle the couch, she just held it over his shoulder from behind, "For you!"

Once the jalapeno had been handed off, she meandered away again, and offered the introduction, "I'm Gina, by the way. I'm..." well, she didn't keep to herself, that was for sure, "-- kind-of talkative."

Gina was kind of talkative in the fashion that stop signs were kind of red. Which was to say, that was a gross understatement. She paused long enough to take another bite, and finish it, before speaking once again.

"What grade are you in?" she then asked, "You're not new, are you? Just quiet, right?" Gina tended not to let new people slip by ungreeted, so if this boy was new, that meant she was falling down on her duties.

"Red Bull?" Locke was compelled to ask. Gina was so thrilled with the bread sticks he wondered if the energy drink had taken the place of her blood. Or maybe she had just chosen to drink a Red Bull for breakfast. The generosity bit went unheard. Was it really generosity to offer the extra food to someone who had helped themselves? If the two of them didn't finish off the pizza it would just become a greasy brick in the fridge. Never one to subscribe to the cold pizza theory, Locke only ate the pies when they were hot and fresh.

The jalapeno was dangled in front of his eyes. Locke had 'seen' Gina move to get it, but didn't expect her to go around to the back of him. He tilted his head back, briefly making eye contact. "Thanks," he murmered as he took it. As casually as one might eat popcorn the hot pepper went from his fingers to his mouth, biting it so that only the stem remained. Food was good. Food meant that he had to keep his mouth closed. But once my mouth opens is something stupid going to come out? "I'd say kind of is an understatement," he said once the pepper had been properly chewed and swallowed. Talkative people were ok. It meant that he didn't have to talk, which meant that he didn't say anything stupid.

A talkative person doesn't always just babble on and carry the conversation on their own. Occasionally they interject a question to bring the listener back. Those were the moments when Locke could either be a normal person or an absolute fool. "Junior. I was a sophomore when I got here. Guess that someone messed up my math grade with a person that had a clue what was going on."

>> "Red Bull?"

His tone implied that it wasn't an offering, but an observation-- a stab at her high-energy. Gina wasn't in the least bit offended. She was, in fact, quite humored. Straightforward people were funny, particularly if they weren't all bubbly and perky-- more room for Gina to be more cheerful.

"No, lots of starches," Gina corrected, without missing a beat. A cheeky grin touched her lips, "They give you more long-lasting energy than caffeine and sugars. It tends to work against me when the weather's like this, though. No flying, and all. No way to burn all of the energy off."

>> "Thanks," Locke replied flatly, as Gina forked over the pepper. She hadn't meant anything by dancing around to the back of the couch, it was just the direction in which she had been headed, in her aimless sauntering.

"No problemo," was the simple reply. Following her introduction, Locke gave yet another dry reply. At least they were engaging in dialogue. It was better than being ignored outright.

>> "I'd say kind of is an understatement."

"You've got no idea," Gina said with a smirk in her tone, "I'm just getting warmed up."

>> "Junior. I was a sophomore when I got here. Guess that someone messed up my math grade with a person that had a clue what was going on."

That was perhaps the longest sentence that Gina had squeezed out of him thus far. Progress? Perhaps.

"I'm a sophomore... Math isn't my strong suit, so I probably couldn't help you there," Gina trailed, "What math are you in?"

"Carb loading," Locke said knowingly. He hadn't gotten a chance to play baseball in high school, but he had watched the jocks go for double servings of pasta at school. It probably wasn't a good idea to offer her the bread sticks then. Gina didn't need to have more energy, she needed to get rid of it. Nobody would want to go flying in the rain. "Danger Room?"

This time it wasn't his usual shyness that limited his sentence to two words. Locke had taken a bite of pizza and had burned the roof of his mouth on the cheese. He had heard somewhere that bacon could be used to cut through metal. Who knew if that was true or not, but Locke would believe that pizza cheese could damage the skin. After a sip of his soda Locke was able to add onto his question. "Why don't you try and see if someone will let you into the Danger Room? Fly around in a desert or space. Someplace where there's wing space."

Personally Locke wasn't fond of the Danger Room. He had to face some of his worse fears in there because the adults he was with didn't know any better. The workable materials for him in the Danger Room always felt.. wrong. It was much better when he could practice outside where the earth was real. "I mean, it can be almost anything right?"

Locke used his thumb to get a bit of sauce that was clinging to the corner of his mouth. See, he could do this whole talking to someone his age thing, even if it was a girl. And Kendra wanted him to move back to San Francisco. "Math two. I took algebra last year, so I'm out of order."

Gina smiled as the boy seriously labelled her consumption of starches as "carb loading". A stifled laugh might have even escaped her. He was missing the point-- whether or not she actually loaded up on carbs for her energy, Gina had been making a joke. A joke. And, it had gone right over his head. She'd even explained the true reason for her excess-energy, and he still hadn't gotten it. Boy, oh boy, Locke was going to be fun.

He then proposed the Danger Room, as a solution for her wealth of energy, and Gina shook her head adamently, her curls bounching as she did so.

"It's not the same," Gina informed him, "The spaces are programmed, which mean there are boundaries... looking at the same tree a billion times absolutely defeats the purpose." Besides, she'd have to ask a teacher for permission to use it, and there were probably a handful of other hyperactive children down there already. To Gina, the Danger Room was just like a treadmill... good for keeping you mutationally active, but not nearly as excited as physically going out and flying.

"Oh," Gina replied, in response to his answer. He was in Algebra, and had then went down to math two. Gina had been in Geometry last semester, but was repeating it once again. She was right on the cusp of passing or failing, but the Final Exam had been the final nail in the coffin of her grade. She had to repeat the class, "I'm in Geometry... again..." In Gina's mind, Geometry wasn't so much of a math as it was a logic class, given all of those proofs that were thrown at them. Even though Geometry was a step above Algebra, she'd only passed Algebra by the grace of God, so... she still wouldn't be of much help, there.

"Try the Lovecraft program," he groaned, "It's a lesson in madness. One second you're walking the next you're trapped inside a wall with eyeballs staring at you. Maybe it wouldn't have the same tree over and over again." Somebody must have programmed the Danger Room to do that for a reason. Locke tried to think of what he knew of computer programming. "I mean yeah, there's going to be repeats. Computers can't grow a brain of their own. You can have a program that teaches itself and allows for a sort of artificial intelligence, but it all goes back to that first program. Or something like that." Feeling awkward and embarrassed by his rambling Locke stood and grabbed a second slice. That and she had laughed at him and he didn't know why. Maybe it wasn't an out loud laugh, but Locke could tell that it was bubbling up.

"What's geometry?" he asked. There had been days when he needed to ask what algebra was, even when he was taking it. About all he knew of Gina's math class was that there were shapes involved. There had to be more of course. Shapes were in algebra too. Mostly triangles though.

Okay. That was by far the most he'd spoken thus far. And, the sad part was, that it was all gibberish to Gina. She understood Lovecraft-- he was an author who wrote spacy books, right? There was a program like that in the danger room. Her mental voice took on the tone of a hippy leftover from the 70's as it declared, 'Far out, dude...' And, of course, outwardly, Gina just stared while Locke spoke. And stared some more. Computer programs made just about as much sense as Chinese to Gina, which was absolutely no sense at all.

Gina did her best to refrain from laughing, but she did smile. Not condescendingly, but in a confused 'I've-got-no-idea-what-this-kid's-saying,' sort of way. He was already shyly clamming himself up with another slice of pizza, so laughing more would probably send the boy into a bout of mutism.

"Geometry?" Gina echoed. Well, Geometry was a math-- or a logic. Locke probably meant to ask what you did in Geometry, not what it was. Gina meandered over to the couch and sat on its arm, taking on a contemplative look, "It's a math where you work with shapes, and graphing, and shape- or graph- related equations. But, mostly-" her face took on a haunted look, brown-eyes going wide with mock-terror. Her voice no more than an ominous whisper, she informed Locke, "We do proofs. Proofs are the centerfold of Geometry, and they're pure evil. You have to essentially prove that you can do certain mathematical things using these predetermined rules." Gina shuddered, "Pure evil."

So there was someone else who feared their math class as much as Locke did. At least for Locke it was a sense of doom and dread whenever he packed his calculator into his backpack. Only one person had ever been able to take the jargon of math and explain it enough for him to get some of the answers right on his homework. So, although Gina said her geometry class was more than just math, that it was also logic, he had no doubt he would flounder if he were in that subject. "Why do they teach us this stuff? I mean how often do you have to find the cosine of an angle or figure out what x,y,and z mean?" Math was a topic he could talk about, or at least rant. "They try to teach everyone the same things when you might not need it for your job. I bet that NASA doesn't ask their employees if they can give an analysis on The Pearl. Not everything you learn in school is useful for every future, but they teach it anyways. Might as well tell us how to juggle monkeys."

Juggle monkeys?[/i] There it was. The stupid thing that Locke had to say. Locke winced. About this point he normally would retreat, acknowledging that he had made himself look like he should be wearing the dunces cap. But he was trying to fix that, trying to be less of a dork and more human. It got lonely spending all his time in his room and for the first time in awhile Locke really wanted to reach out to people. "Sorry. I don't know why I said that. Monkeys wouldn't like to be juggled. More stupid thing being said. His mind raced to find something, anything that would make more sense and be a better conversation topic. "So what other useless stuff are you trying to learn." Ah, success.

Gina listened as Locke began ranting, not really putting in her two bits. She didn't have a problem with school overall, just math-- she also struggled in science, though she was rather fond of the subject. She let him rant, though-- soon, the conversation turned to NASA, and then... juggling... monkeys?

Gina let out a short laugh, but quieted as Locke groaned, quickly excusing his peculiar phrase.

>> "Sorry. I don't know why I said that. Monkeys wouldn't like to be juggled."

Which only made the previous comment ten times funnier. Gina couldn't help it. She laughed. Sure, Locke was a dork, but Gina thought it was funny. Particularly because Locke was getting so embarrassed about it.

"It's okay," Gina assured him, "Tamarins are far more suitable for juggling, anyways." Gina had stopped chuckling long enough to deliver that line, but after she said that, she quirked a smile. She didn't want to talk about her classes, she wanted to debate over techniques and preferences when it came to juggling monkeys. But, if Locke wanted to take the reigns in the conversation, Gina would follow along.

"History, English," she began to rattle off, "Geometry, Computers, Language, and Mutation Control," Gina huffed when she had finished. Of all the classes she was in, Mutation Control was the one she liked the least (besides Geometry). Her mutation wasn't any more than what you saw, so there really wasn't anything to gain mastery over.

Locke would have responded back about the juggling monkeys, really he would but there were two problems with it. Number one, he wanted at least a shred of dignity to remain, and number two, he didn't know any types of monkeys. As a small child visiting the zoo Locke hadn't cared what the name of the animal was, just how fierce looking it was. Monkeys rated pretty low on the tough side when you're six. He compromised and offered his only additional thought. "Wait are the tamarins juggling or being juggled?"

The classes Gina mentioned didn't sound too different from what any high school student would take. Minus the mutation control of course. There were days when Locke forgot that this was a school for mutants, as odd as it might sound considering his best friend shared some physical features with a frog or fish. "Hey, history is not useless. There's that whole those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it thing. English has its uses too. Problem is that once you learn how to read and write the whole class just becomes a repeat, only with different Shakespeare plays to read." History and English were two of his favorite classes. Spanish had been cool too back in San Francisco, mostly because he had learned how to say the most random things. "And I guess that learning another language is pretty cool too. The whole global unification thing and what have you."