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The teachers told Praxi she had to stop revelling in her ability to annoy her peers. They should not have let her play dodgeball, because she found the frustration of Adam, the bull mutant, absolutely delicious. Winning was somehow better when someone else lost and was being a little b***h about it.

Now she had a ball. This was her weapon! Based on the chaos around her, she was supposed to throw the rubber sphere at someone. There was the challenge; she did not exactly have muscles. She was holding the ball in herself, but she lacked real arms to get any real movement.

People were running around and another ball would be thrown at her soon. She had to think. What would a cartoon do? The answer seemed obvious; she stuck two anchor “feet” to the ground and pulled the rest of her body back with the ball. She tried her hardest to keep herself solid and not stretch so far she snapped. Thankfully, that provided her with enough stretchiness to become a slime slingshot.

The part of her crawling back changed from sticky to slick, and she let her body pull back toward itself, carrying the ball with her. When she got back to herelf, she let the momentum of her body fling forward, and when she did, she let the ball go to fling toward a certain blonde adonis.

There was probably an explanation of what they were doing earlier, but Praxi was more concerned with antagonizing a wannabe hero. She had to be more conscious of her classes, but she was still learning how to be a student in the first place. Besides, it was gym class. How seriously was she expected to take this?

Thankfully, Xavier knew exactly what they were doing and gladly filled her in on the rules. He could have been unfair and let her flounder around, figuring things out for herself. Clearly, he was more concerned with a fair game than winning. Very not demi-god-y of him.

”That sounds like a thing I can do. Like a fighting pit game!” But instead of weapons or rocks, they threw a harmless red ball. This was probably the better version, at least for the participants.

With another whistle, they went to their sides and Praxi immitated her teammates, getting against the wall. She was admittedly not sure what came next when the whistle blew again and her team ran to the middle, leaving her surprised and lagging behind!

People from both sides got to the middle and made grabs for red orbs, with some succeeding and some getting there just late. Some of the late comers were immediately struck by their rivals on the other side of the line, griping loudly to be knocked out so quickly. Balls dribbled on the ground after errant throws and other students were quick to snag them, but none were close to Praxi. She needed a weapon!

“Goo girl!”

”Oy, that’s n--oh!” The nickname got her attention just in time for her to realize a red ball was flying toward her. The object made contact with her body, but Praxi immediately thickened and condensed, slowing it to the point where it stopped in her body, allowing her to push it through her and into her “palm,” though in truth it was more like her arm was a flail encapsulating the surprisingly heavy rubber ball.

“I totally hit her!”

“Looks like a catch to me,” one of her teammates argued, bouncing one ball with the one in her hands.

“That’s bull! Cheater! Teacher?”

The appeal to authority was met with a shake of the head. “Powers are on the table, and if the ball did not hit the ground after touching Eupraxia, then it was caught.”

The other student was displeased, but Praxi? She was thrilled, because she was apparently good at this game! And she had a weapon! Confident, she kept moving around the field, looking across the line for a target.

Maybe self-preservation was more important than hate or fear or bigotry. Maybe being saved from trouble was just an inherent human priority. Heck, maybe it was enough to convince someone to reconsider how they felt about mutants.

That was still not going to change the world. Atlantis did not get better, even when Atlan fell. There were good demigods there, and there were good humans here like the ones from the bus. There were also bad humans, like the other ones from the bus.

It was not easy to change the world, and the X-Men helped Atlantis, but it was still bad. They were here in America, but she still found instances of humans hating and oppressing mutants. She was not going to be naive like Xavier.

He began to speak, but a whistle interrupted her. She was not what? She wanted to bug him to finish his comment to tell her what she wasn’t, but class was starting. ”What are we doing?” she murmured, though the girl next to her just shrugged. Either it had not been explained, or her classmate was equally distracted.

The instructor pulled aside two classmates, one girl with tan skin and sleek black hair, and a boy with dirty blonde hair and freckles. It could have just been her bad eyesight, but he might have had eyes on his palms? “These are your team captains!” the instructor bellowed. “We’ll divvy up the teams by--”

“I get Xavier!” the girl chimed in quickly like she was trying to beat a buzzer.

The instructor glared at her. “By counting off odds and evens because we’re not apes and we’re not going to endure playground politics with a draft for a friendly game of dodgeball.”

The teacher ignored the disappointed young woman and counted off the crowd. Naturally, with Praxi and Xavier standing next to one another, she was an odd and he was an even. (Hmph. Fitting.)

Sliding off the bench and to her “feet” (more or less,) Praxi looked at Xavier. ”Well, I guess we’re enemies now,” she said dramatically. ”Best of luck in the dodgeballing. Also… um. What is dodgeball?”

It was a lot easier to annoy and upset people than it was to make them happy. Everyone was very good at annoying or upsetting Eupraxia, and she in turn was good at doing the same to others. Right now, dancing with Celeste, they were both making each other happier, which was rarer. It also meant being careful not to mess things up again.

That meant being conscious of ways she might make Celeste uncomfortable, specifically by touching her. The way Celeste reacted to the limb on her hip tipped Praxi off, helping her realize she might not feel comfortable being touched by someone, especially when they were basically a stranger.

Even without knowing the exact reasons for her hesitance, Praxi immediately chose to respect Celeste’s boundaries. Her arms receded into her and reformed out from her shoulder area to rest “hands” on Celeste’s shoulders. It was times like these when she was glad she could not blush, though there was some notable swirling inside her and bubbling on the top of her head. ”I can do that.”

Anchored to Celeste’s shoulders as a guide, she rejoined her in reclaiming the rhythm. One hand would occasionally lift off from Celeste to be raised over Praxi’s head when it felt right, but she always kept one hand anchored with Celeste, feeling her rhythm. Praxi could still see the celestial patterns of Celeste’s shoulders through her own hand. ”It’s really cool, by the way. Your mutation. All I’ve seen, at least.” There could be more she did not know, but so far, it was eye-catching. Almost mesmerizing, frankly. ”If I could look like a galaxy over just being… well, green, I’d totally pick galaxies.”

Okay, this boy had like… a lot of energy. Like… a lot. He was not the first mutant at the school to be impressed with her origins, and she could get that. She was treating America with the childlike wonder of someone who never knew anything beyond the slum streets she grew up on. Students heard about Atlantis in myths, so why not be amazed to talk to someone from the real thing? Still, it was a bit much. Thankfully, this guy seemed to get it and reigned himself in.

While Praxi did consider herself a generally good person, when she was making a point to tease someone, she wanted to be effective. Maybe that was why it irked her that her comment glanced off him with no effect. He was just so… doofy! Doofy and earnest! And he was owning it, which made it impossible to call him out on it. She had bullied bullies at the school, but this guy was just… ugh! She missed volatile, insecure bullies.

Despite her clearly petty shot, Xavier answered her honestly. It was the simplest answer. He wanted to be a hero because he wanted to… well, be a hero. Save people. And he didn’t care if the people were humans or mutants. Part of her could acknowledge it as a noble and selfless, but the petty, damaged part of her thought it was dumb. ”But like… they don’t want you to save them, right? Like humans.”

She was ready to call him out on his passing privilege, but he beat her to it and did it himself. Gods! This guy was just so… gah! He was forcing her to be reasonable, which irked her. ”I mean, I guess not all humans can be that bad,” she muttered. She had some good interactions on the trip into the city with Amethyst. She also judged demigods harshly, but the non-physical mutants here were not all bad.

Her social cynicism was crumbling! She tried not to sound grumpy because this kid was so positive, it made her feel like she was being childish! (Because she was.) ”It’s great. I mean, I’ve been to the city one time. And to the pizza place near the school one time. But it’s nice. Dem-- er, mutants like you are not as bad here.” That was compliment-adjacent, right? ”It still feels like us against them, but here it’s mutant against human instead of pretty mutants against gross mutants.” Even if idealists like him were convinced they were all on the same team, she was still going to cling to her skepticism.

Eupraxia was cautious around the young men of the Mansion, believing they were all bravado and hormones. This was based on anecdotal evidence, a health class she attended begrudgingly, and the advice of some older girls at the school. At the very least, Xavier did not take the handshake as an opportunity to show off his strength; she would have felt awkward collecting the puddled remnants of her squished hand.

It was not uncommon for students of the Mansion to display curiosity regarding her name. Evidently, ancient greek names were unique above the waves. It made her stick out, but she was used to that. ”It’s a name. An Atlantean name. I’m from Atlantis.” No sense in hiding that, though she had no loyalty to the island of her oppression.

And speaking of oppression. ”So why do you want to be an X-Man anyway? Hoping to impress the humans? I’m sure they’re already fine with you up here,” she spat with slightly more cynicism than necessary. Eupraxia was aware that the divide between physical and non-physical mutants, while not as egregious as Atlantis, did exist here. Xavier was some classically handsome human-like mutant. He could have been sculpted and born from a statue back home. ”Just seems silly to me, but I guess some people are just silly.”

Why did Eupraxia even need gym? She argued against it with Maya on the grounds that she had no muscles and therefore no fitness to maintain. She was informed that it did not matter and that gym was a good group class to help her adjust to her classmates and large groups in general.

Which was dumb. She was adjusting fine! In, you know, her own time. Besides, she was used to the mutants at the school by now. Well, except the towering guy being introduced to the class with the doofy smile.

If they were still in Atlantis, he would have absolutely been treated as a demigod. Heck, Atlan (may he rot in Hades) would have adopted the kid and made him a captain of the guard or something. She admittedly had a vague idea of how demigod culture worked, and it felt inappropriate to ask Amethyst for more details.

With the introduction out of the way, Praxi “sat” on the bench, which mostly meant half her body was pooled as a puddle with her waist and upper body emerging normally. Unexpectedly, the young man, after chatting with another group, approached her.

He approached very confidently, to the point where more of her body sank into the puddle to shrink away from his impending hand. And then she remembered that she had no reason to shrink away from people because she was awesome and they should shrink from her! (Regardless of her height.) Reforming from the puddle, and even letting her lower body reform to drape off the bench like legs, she begrudgingly offered a hand, trying to keep it solid enough to endure a handshake.

”Eupraxia,” she replied, disinterested. ”You’re the new kid who just plans on walking in and joining the X-Men?” It was said like she did not notice, but he was pretty explicit about his intent in his class greeting.