In the heart of every storm, there is a calm that anchors. For Scott Summers, that calm is Rory Nicks. She is his guiding light, the one who brings clarity to his often chaotic world. With every glance and every touch, she weaves a tapestry of hope...
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RORY
After a tense drive, we finally arrived in Boston at Bobby's house. The place was empty except for us, which allowed us to explore a bit. I wandered into the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat. As I rummaged through the pantry, a scratching noise caught my attention. I turned around quickly and saw a cat at the door, its nose twitching as it looked up at me.
"Well, hello there," I said, smiling as I picked up the cat. It purred and started licking my hand. I grabbed a snack with one hand while holding the cat with the other.
As I made my way into the living room, I heard keys jangling, and the door opened to reveal what I assumed to be Bobby's parents and his brother.
"Who the hell are you?" Bobby's dad demanded, eyeing us warily.
Bobby's mom came forward and gently took the cat from my arms. "Uh, Bobby?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at school? Who are these people?"
"This is Professor Logan and some of his students," Bobby explained, trying to keep his tone steady. "We need to talk."
We all settled into the living room as Bobby began explaining our situation. John fidgeted with his lighter, clearly uncomfortable.
"So, when did you first realize you were a—" Bobby's mom started to ask.
"A mutant?" John interjected, cutting her off.
"Yes, exactly," she said, clearly exasperated. "Now, could you please stop playing with that thing?"
John quickly pocketed his lighter.
"You have to understand, we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted," Bobby's dad said, trying to grasp the situation.
"Bobby is gifted, as are all of us," I added, trying to offer some reassurance.
"It's this mutant problem that's causing the issue," Bobby's mom began to explain.
"What mutant problem?" Logan asked, a note of impatience in his voice.
"What exactly are you a professor of, Mr. Logan?" Bobby's dad asked, a skeptical edge to his tone.
"Art," Logan replied, his answer delivered with a shrug that didn't quite mask his annoyance.
As the conversation continued, I noticed Bobby's brother, Ronnie, sitting off to the side, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed downward. His discomfort was palpable, and it was clear he was struggling to process everything happening around him.
After Bobby froze the tea in his mom's teacup, the room fell silent, save for the soft clink as she set the cup down, her eyes wide with shock. The cat, unaware of the tension, casually licked at the frozen tea, adding an odd note of normalcy to the situation. Ronnie, clearly unsettled, abruptly stood up and left the room without a word.
