Saffron

There are times when life just about sucks. You know those times when the knife on the counter is looking more than friendly? Yup, well now's one of those times and I'm no where near a kitchen, in fact I'm in the school dance studio. Correction! I'm in my choreographer's office. The day was going smoothly too! I had just gotten called about a promotion at work and still high from when this really hot college guy talked to me in line at the theatre.  Gosh, he was dreamy… but back to my crappy day.

            "I'm sorry, but those are the rules, there's nothing we can do." I nodded, the tears silently slipping down my cheeks, yet hidden by my bangs. "Please understand, Saffron, we fought a loosing battle."

            "No, no it's not your fault," I said trying to keep my voice calm while my world was careening out of space, "it's not your fault…"  my voice trailed off. Wringing my thing fingers I stood and escaped before anymore tears could fall.

                       ***

            As soon as I got in the door, I rushed into the bathroom. Mascara running, hair disheveled. Not my best appearance, especially as Dance Team Captain. I pulled at my long bronze hair trying to tame it.

            "Forget this!" I screamed reaching for the scissors. I didn't even give it a second thought when I took a handful of my luscious long hair and cut it off. It felt good. Snip by snip my mane fell in clumps to the hard marble tiling. When the last stands had fallen to the floor, I felt around my head. Bristly boy short with the exception of 2 long bangs on either side of my face. I let the scissors fall to the floor with a clatter.

            "Oh, my, gosh! What did you do?" the door opened to reveal my sister staring in horror at my no longer existent hair. I had never even heard her come home. "Forget Mom, Jake is going to kill you!"

            Jake is my (our) choreographer, and he's REALLY big about appearance.

            "Doesn't matter, Mary, I'm no longer competing."

            "WHAT?" she screamed. "But why?"

            "I got kicked off,"

            "How? Why?"

            "What does it matter? I'm off, more room for you and your stupid little friends."

            Mary considered this, then smiled, hesitated not sure as to take it as a compliment or not. I grabbed my stuff heading to my room. "EEEWWWEEE! Aren't you going to clean all this up?" she shrieked. (She does that a lot)

            "No." and I slammed my door.

                       ***

            "Saffron, please come out!" my step-mother pleaded. "It's been 2 weeks. Won't you please unlock your door?"

            Silence.

            "Saffron! Please!" I could hear the tears in her words. I felt horrible, but I just couldn't do it. No words would come.

            Then came a voice I couldn't identify. "Saffron, if you refuse to open your door I will have to do so for you."

            Excuse me? Our house is the most expensive one in the valley and has top security, there's no way anyone could-

            Click.

            The door swung open to reveal my very shocked and disturbed step-mother and a bald headed man in a wheel chair.

            Who the hell are you and what did you do to my door?

            "My name is Charles Xavier and I would like to talk to you about your special talent."

            Excuse me?

            "Oh, hunny!" My step-mother rushed toward me. Squeezing me to her stomach she stroked my re-growing hair. "Are you ok? I haven't heard a sound from this room in over a week! I was afraid you were dead! It's not good to do that! Have you had anything to eat? Drink?" She took my face in her freshly manicured hands trying to read my distant emerald eyes.

            I really didn't see the point in that question. I have a bathroom attached to my room and a mini fridge, so water was readily available. Food on the other hand… I still don't feel like it. The thought of competition was still firmly on my mind and any thought of food made me puke.  Thus the smell of my room made my step-mother want to do the same.

            "Saffron," badly tried to get in before she started talking again. "I've heard about this little predicament and-"

            Little? If it was really that little do you think I'd have locked myself in my room for 2 weeks?

            "True. I don't quite know about it all yet-"

            Wait. I never spoke.

            I'm telepathic.

            Now, I always knew there was a little insanity in me but this was too much.

            "Saffron, I know this may be hard fro you to understand but," he moved to the window seat I was huddled in. "It's for the best."

            Riight. Cuz you so know me.

            "Please listen, Saffron, you have a power unlike most youngsters your age."

            What is he rambling about? First he breaks open my door, then comes and talks to me like he's my best friend, next tells me I'm a mutant. Swell.

            "If that's the word you want to use, fine, you're a mutant."

            My step-mother let go of me. "Please, Saffron, I didn't believe it all at first either but then…"

            What? Did he brain wash you with his 'telepathy'?

            Look outside.

            Excuse me?

            If you look out that window you'll see the effect of your depression on your powers.

Slowly and skeptically I raised my head from my knees to gaze out the window that opened it's self. Vines, trees, flowers, ferns, everywhere. Our once gorgeous garden has been completely overgrown by every form of plant life native to our parts. Swimming pool, trampoline, tennis court, fence, fountain, path ways, patio, gone. It was as dense as a forest and growing. Crawling towards my window. Vines creeping in, reaching to me like outstretched hands. I slammed the window shut, breaking them.

That is impossible! There's no way that can happen!

Precisely, and that is what makes you a mutant.

            I stared at my step-mother in horror. "It's true dear. It all started that day 2 weeks ago. It's even managed to take over the basement and half the main floor."

            "I can help you learn to control this, Saffron, if you let me."

            I looked at this crazy bald guy named Charles Xavier. The guy who heard my thoughts and spoke to me just the same even though I hadn't spoken in 2 weeks. Not a sound. Could this guy, in a wheel chair, actually help me? If there was anything even wrong with me.

 

Reviews

[Jenny-Jen-Jen]

This is interesting. I'm not really a fan of X-Men, because I've never seen it, but your writing is excellent. It has me hooked and I'm interested to see how this plays out. I'll def. be reading the next chapter soon.