Saint Joseph School

Father Robert Montoya stood in white robes before the Saint Joseph School's chapel altar. "Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."

The teens and tweens in the pews replied in unison, "And blessed be his kingdom, now and forever. Amen."

The school's old church was not full but remained far from vacant. Just an empty seat here or there could be found making the room much more crowded than Alex had grown used to. The school's size had grown much since the building's foundation had been laid, but the need for a second mass had ended decades before. Separated masses for boys and girls had ended in the late 1970s and the requirement to attend either had not survived the early 60s.

But autumn was coming and all the students that spent the summer back home had returned. Unlike the more famous half of the school, most of the student body just looked strange, or had powers that were useless in a fight but still made it hard to function in a normal school, or had no interest in becoming a hero. These students stayed in class longer during the day, without the fear of a bank robbery making them late for Advanced Algebra.

Alex looked at the spot she had been saving next to her, then glanced back at the entrance, and finally sighed. "Come on Jessiy," she muttered. "Where are you?"

Joni's sharp hearing easily bested Alex's hushed tones. "Um, maybe she overslept?" she offered helpfully in her soft southern drawl.

Alex frowned. "Not likely. It's the third week in a row."

Mieri leaned forward from her seat next to Joni and whispered, "Bella, you are too worried, yes? She most likely just slipped into a back seat after arriving late. Maybe you did not notice?"

Alex looked back at the door again but only saw Diego standing to its left as if he was on guard duty. A quick glance around the rest of the chapel found Jacob sitting over to the side of the chapel near a window, back from vacation. Alex made a mental note to sit with him next week and see if he and Joni could restore their friendship.

Her eyes drifted up front to Kristen, the small girl with glasses that literally drifted around in time, and Ekaterina, the former Olympic star, a row behind. Then they suddenly locked onto blue skin. A moment later she realized that the skin was two shades too light and belonged to a boy from the lower grades.

Alex grumbled again. "No, Mieri. She really isn't here."

She sighed. "I'm going to have to talk to her about this," she thought to herself.

Jessica slammed the door behind her, causing the girl in the room to jump and look up. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks a bright purple color from the blood rushing to her face, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked at the other girl in the room and started sobbing harder, jumping on her bed and burying her face in her pillow.

"Jesus, Blue...what happened? That asshole finally dump you?"

Jessica lifted her head off her pillow, the rage building finally coming to the surface. "Shut up! What the fuck do you care? Just leave me alone!"

Scarlett put her magazine down and sat up a bit more, her face unreadable. "Just wondering, Christ. No need to bite my fucking head off..."

Jessica put her head back in her pillow. Every inch of her skin tingled, her muscles ached. No...I don't...

"Y'know I can leave so you can cut yourself." Scarlett didn't even blink at the bluntness of her statement, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

Jessica let out a slow breath, closing her eyes.

"...No."

Scarlett sighed a little. "No? So you're gonna go to the bathroom then? What's up with that? You WANNA get caught?"

"No...it...it's not worth it."

If Scarlett was shocked, she didn't show it visibly, but her voice briefly lost its smug croon. "What do you mean not worth it? You're obviously upset...just do it. You'll feel better, right?"

Jessica turned to face Scarlett, biting her lip. Her whole body was starting to shake now, and it felt like pins and needles all up her arms and legs. "Why do you care?"

Scarlett regained her composure, rolling her eyes at Jessica. "I could care less what you do or don't do. Not gonna cut? Fine...but I suggest going to your girlfriend's room 'cause I don't wanna listen to you whine all night about how much you want it." She picked up her magazine again and opened it randomly, the picture of the celebrity on the outside smiling mockingly at Jessica.

She felt nauseated. She's right, Jessica thought. It would feel better. You won't feel so dirty...you won't feel so used. So...

"...Ugly."

Jessica looked up. Scarlett was squinting intently at a picture in the magazine, her face contorted in disgust. She looked up, catching Jessica staring. "What?"

Jessica turned away, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Scarlett huffed, annoyed, and turned back to her magazine.

"Don't you want to be free?"

Jessica ignored the question, assuming her roommate was talking to the picture again. A cigarette box smacked the wall next to Jessica, causing her to turn around.

"Well? Don't you?"

"Free? I'm not free...I...I can't keep doing this..."

Scarlett cackled shortly. "That's the Jesus-freak talking now. Look here, Blue. You're only not free because society has some fucked up idea of what's best for EVERYONE. Just admit to what you are. You. Are. A. Cutter. You're not LIKE them. Live with it; embrace it. Fuck what THEY think. Anyway, isn't there some shit in that book about, 'The truth will set you free'?"

Jessica furrowed her brow, biting her bottom lip. "Scarlett...please...not tonight..."

"Fine. Whatever. Be miserable. Have nightmares. Shake yourself awake every ten minutes and then cry yourself back to sleep. I'm just trying to help. I understand you. I know what you want to do, deep down. You know I'm right. No one understands you the way I do--I've been there. Our kind have to stick together or they use that loneliness against you. So tell the world to screw itself; they can't make you happy. You're the only one that can do that." She brought the magazine back in front of her. "Look at them all. Trying to please everyone, trying to meet standards, 'norms,' because all the miserable people want to live vicariously through them. Bullshit. That's why their lives are so screwed up. At the end of the day, you know none of them are truly happy."

Jessica was surprised. Scarlett had gone on rants about Jessica blowing off whatever other people thought, but she never seemed so intense, so--dare she think it...?

Does she really care what I do?

"But whatever. You're at least free enough to take your freedom or give it up. It's your choice. See if I care."

Jessica looked down, bringing her shaking hands out from under her pillow. They looked so inviting, longing, missing something. Slowly, she pulled her legs from under her and turned, her feet landing steadily on the floor. Her breathing was calmer, her tears dried. She stood up, purposefully moving to the desk and pulling a drawer open. She dug around for a bit before shoving her hand into her pocket and turning to the door. She opened it, hesitating for a moment.

"...You're right."

She walked out, closing the door behind her. Scarlett's face contorted into a smile before she once again buried her face into the magazine.

The view here’s beautiful. I remember the first time I HAD to come up here; it helps being able to fly away when you get in over your head. Yeah, Dad was there, and yeah, I was HIS back-up…but he had things handled. He told me to go high…so I did…I came back down after about five minutes, he asked where I went. I told him I went high, like he said.

He started laughing.

It’s not my fault “high” and “hide” sound alike.

Heh…there’s a smile.

I think about her. Dammit…I hate that word…it isn’t fair…and I know I’m not the only one that thinks that…

There’s a sharp pain, and I look down. My thumb nail is digging into the back of my hand, and I remove it, quickly, before more of the feeling can happen. Friendly words go through my mind; “Don’t hurt yourself…you don’t have to.” It’s strange…I don’t want to make Bridget sad. She’s so naïve, child-like…but already in the month I’ve known her, she’s become an incredible friend.

The wind is blowing hard up here, my hair flying around my head. I sigh, rolling my eyes. The wind stops, like it’s being blocked by a wall. My hair settles back down over my face. I sigh again; maybe I should just cut it short, shoulder length; maybe just trim it. The blue is starting to show through the white. I had bleached it to get away from all the blue; now I can’t wait till it comes back in to show Bridget my REAL hair. I push it back over my head, behind my ears. A piece of thin metal brushes against my finger. Heh…she even convinced me to finally pierce my ears. The butterfly earrings she let me borrow are beautiful…

I remember going to a zoo with Daddy…there was a butterfly house. They had the most incredible butterflies there. My favorite…

I can’t help but laugh at the irony. My favorite was one of the larger ones. The wings were pitch black, until it opened them to fly away. It was the brightest, most incredible blue I had ever seen. I remember it fluttering away from my outstretched hand; I think I was maybe 6 or 7, probably a good thing it flew away. But it turned around and flew back, landing on my elbow.

I love butterflies. Start out so vulnerable, small, ugly. Yeah, ugly. I don’t care what some people say, caterpillars are not cute. Maybe the really small green ones. I look down at the back of my hands again.

“You’re very beautiful, Jessiy.” “I love your blue skin, Jessiy.” “I wish I was as pretty as you.”

It’s not fair.

I slide forward off my perch, landing softly on the beam of cold steel suspended over the port. I walk over to the middle, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to try and warm up. It’s frigid up here, and I can only alter the temperature so much, probably warming up the air to 50 or so. It’s still colder than I like. My phone rings.

It’s her. She wants to know where I’m at, wants me to go hang out with her and some other friends. I can’t really deny it. It DOES beat being alone on top of this bridge. And…I certainly want to still be around her.

Sure, it’s completely unfair, and I hate her parents, and I wish she’d never have told me. But she’s still my best friend. I look out over the harbor. I’m being stupid; I know I am. None of it is right.

“Something up? You seem distracted.”

I smirk. “Just…thinking about butterflies.”

I launch myself off the bridge, a blast of wind throwing me forward. I let myself fall fast, my hair flying up behind me. The water looms, deep and dark blue below me. I focus, staring into the inky blackness of it, and I stop my freefall. Wind is blowing under me and behind me.

My wings.

Five words.

We.

Implying more than the one person who actually took the time to write the letter that was now in my hands. The edges were slightly crumpled, and each word my eyes passed over caused the creases to increase in number.

Regret.

Yes. Because they are absolutely sorry. Sorry they don’t want me. Sorry I’m not good enough. Sorry I’m not who they are looking for. Regret implies guilt; if there was even an inkling of guilt, I’d have a handwritten letter in flowing cursive that was barely legible. If there was any guilt, they’d have called, or visited me.

To inform.

To let me know what’s going on. To tell me I failed. Bull. You shouldn’t be sorry you have to tell me. You’re obligated to do this. Don’t be sorry. Grow some balls. You aren’t informing me of anything; you’re slapping me in the face with a brick, while simultaneously smashing your foot into my stomach and knocking me onto the ground into impaling spikes that go right through me like a warm knife through butter.

You.

Not the dude three doors down. Not the girl two states away. Not the brat stationed with his parents in Guam.

ME.

I crumple up the paper and toss it. It hits the rim of the trashcan and bounces off and down to the floor. A circle of blue with an eagle in the middle is visible, mocking me. A few words are visible…I know what they all read, of course, and I curse that I can still see them.
I punch my pillow. The interview with the congressmen’s representatives had been perfect. They had stopped staring after the first ten minutes; well, most of them. A lady with a tight bun and librarian like glasses just kept staring the whole time. She finally asked if my hair was naturally white. I remember the blood draining from her face when I said I had dyed it and that it was normally a bright blue. That made everyone stop and take a glance up from their papers. Well, everyone except the L-T that was sitting on the board. She smirked a bit and commented “oh, I think I know why your favorite color is red then…” We both laughed, and soon everyone else gave a small chuckle.

They asked about my physical scores. I showed them the fitness test Coach Waters proctored for me. They asked for test scores. I showed them my SAT and ACT scores. The congressman’s aide in the center commented on how good they were; 660 math score was “just what they want at the Academy,” he said. “You’re a very smart girl, and you certainly have the physical aptitude to make it through. So…” He took off his glasses, and looked at me. There was a slight pause; I could feel the heat rise in my face. “Why, Miss St. Peter, do you want to be in the Air Force?”

There were a lot of reasons. Being a hero in a city full of them is one thing; being a hero to a nation is another altogether. And I realize – I’m probably never going to be a war hero. I may never even be on the frontlines. But I want to know that for a while, I helped to protect the nation; that I helped make it so that someone else could enjoy a night in the living room with their family watching TV, or so that someone could sleep peacefully at night knowing they were safe from the people that want to see this country destroyed. And of course, I couldn’t leave out my dad. My first memories are happy ones because of what a lone officer did for me. The Air Force has been a huge part of my life, I said, and I felt – no, I KNEW – it was my turn to step up and do MY duty.

The academy grad lieutenant looked at me and smiled, nodding. The man at the center of the board leaned back, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. “That was as good a reason as any I’ve ever heard, young lady.” He gathered the papers in front of him together and then looked left and right. The other board members all nodded, and the young lieutenant gave him a thumb up. She looked over at me and winked, mouthing the words “very nice.” I smiled a little, then jumped up as the man stood, and the rest of the board followed suit. I pulled the front of my dress uniform down so that it wasn’t all wrinkled up. “Jessica, thank you very much. This has been an outstanding interview, and I can safely say that, given your performance in school, your activities within the Vanguard cadet corps AND your hobby as a superhero,” he laughed at that point, and I smiled, laughing a little with him, “we will definitely be giving a very good report to our boss. And…” he put his hand next to his mouth, as if he were telling me a secret from WELL outside whispering distance, “it’s a safe bet you’re going to get a congressional nomination.”

I smiled brightly, reaching out to shake his hand with a “thank you,” then went down the line, shaking everyone’s hand and thanking them all for their time. The librarian-looking lady hesitated, and then lightly shook my hand, barely mumbling a “goodnight” to me. I just looked her straight in the eye and smiled, squeezing what little of her hand I held tightly. Then I turned and strolled out, ready to get out of the cramped black shoes I was wearing and rid myself of the black jacket with purple trim that had increasingly felt more and more cramped as the interview went on.

It was a few weeks later I got a letter from the congressman’s office. They were writing to tell me that I had received his nomination to the academy; the only one he had to give. I was ecstatic. I called up daddy to tell him, and he said how proud he was and took me out to eat to celebrate.


What would he think now? I wasn’t good enough to make it in the Academy…

The librarian-lady’s stares came back to my mind. I could picture the look of disgust on her face when she looked at me; a mutant, an aberration of creation, imperfect, flawed.

It was because I was a mutant. It was because a little blue girl like me would raise all sort of hell from people. “I don’t want my son in the same military as a freak.” “She doesn’t belong here; send her back to Paragon to be a hero with the rest of her kind.”

They didn’t take me because I was a monster. That HAD to be it. They couldn’t defile their prestige, their honor, at that school, so they passed me by.

Don’t do it…you don’t have to hurt yourself anymore…

Could it be they knew about THAT? What if I medically disqualified myself from EVER serving in ANY branch of the military, simply because I had something that was classified as a mental disorder?

I wipe a tear from my eye. I know I’m making up excuses; I’m trying to find some reason as to why I wasn’t good enough for the Academy to take me. But at the end of it all, I curse two people:

Thunderhead, my “father,” for making me what I am.

And dad, for leaving me alone.

"So, any news yet?"

Jessica looked up from her plate, glaring at the ceiling and chewing furiously. Once she had managed to swallow the piece of chicken and take a quick drink to wash it down, she looked back across the table. Her dad was smiling as if he had done something mischievous and new he had been caught.

"Of course you would wait till I had a bite in my mouth to ask me." The two laughed a little, and then Jessica recovered. "Well...recruiter says I'd have to take the ASVAB in July, and then once the results come in I could go to basic as soon as September, I think." She took another quick drink as her dad took another bite of his burger, listening. "Then, the Vanguard recruiter says I could transfer my enlistment over to them as soon as I graduate if I wanted to."

Her dad put the cheeseburger back on his plate and took a few fries. "So, you'd be Air Force, what, 'on loan' to Vanguard?"

Jessica squirmed a little, unsure how to answer the question. "I guess you could describe it that way. Vanguard IS United Nations; anyone in their operations is 'on loan' from their own countries, right? At least this way, I still get my Air Force benefits and pay, but I'd actually be doing a job I'd be suited for."

There was a small silence as Jason St. Peter chewed. Jessica waited for a moment, then picked up the drumstick she had and took another bite out of it.

"Any plans for college yet?"

Jessica made a frustrated noise. Her dad just laughed. Not bothering to swallow first, Jessica replied angrily, "Ah you heriou'?" She put the chicken back down, chewing quickly. "Yes. Eventually I guess. I don't know, daddy..." Another quick sip of tea. "I think the only schools that are willing to accept me are HERE, in Paragon."

Jason smiled a little. "Why so desperate to leave? You've got your friends here still, not to mention your dear old father."

She sighed, shaking her head and taking a bite of coleslaw. "I know that. I just...I dunno." She sat back in the booth they occupied, looking around at the other restaurant patrons. "Maybe that's why I want to just enlist and join up with Vanguard. Chances of being assigned to a unit in the zone would be pretty good since I'm a mutant. That'd keep me here."

"And if the Air Force doesn't transfer your enlistment?"

"I dunno. I wind up doing a few years of service and then get out or keep trying to join up." She turned back to look at her dad and found he was staring intently at her. A wave of self-consciousness broke over her and she cowered a little from his gaze. "What?"

He cocked his head to the side a little, a trait she was sure he had picked up from their dog years ago. "Why not just go to college? I mean..." He stopped, looking like he had realized something before continuing. "Realize...I support you no matter what. But...you are incredibly smart, you have an opportunity to still get hundreds of scholarships. Don't you even have some college credit from classes you've taken at Saint Joe's?"

Jessica took another drink, more to stall than anything else. "Well, sure but...I dunno, Daddy, I'm getting tired of school. I want to, I don't know, do something?"

Jason laughed at that, picking up his burger again and taking another bite of it. "I realie...you feel tha' way..." he swallowed, "but realize too that, it's going to be much harder to go back when you've been away for a while."

Jessica looked away again. "Yeah...the recruiter said that too."

"You weren't interested in listening to it again?"

"I figured he was looking for a way to get me to NOT sign up."

Her dad paused, then looked up at her. "Jessica. You know that's not what it is."

She turned back to him. "Daddy, even here -- in a city full of the unusual -- I still get stares. Now imagine some farm-boy from...I don't know, Nebraska." She took another (smaller) bite of her chicken before continuing. "It's not about me just being a different color, I'm practically an alien form outer space. People are afraid of me."

"Then why are you so desperate to enlist if you're so sure people are going to be scared of you?"

"Because I could come back here. I still want to join the military."

"So enlist with Vanguard. Oh," He stopped himself and held up a hand before Jessica could respond. "Right, we've discussed that. Vanguard doesn't exactly take good care of their troops."

"Well...not like the military does here, yes." She nodded. "Daddy...at least this way I could get some experience worked up. Later on, the Air Force would even pay to send me to school."

"They'd pay to send you to school now."

"And then I'd be stuck going to one of the schools in the area. Daddy, I don't even know what I would study."

Jason shrugged. "So don't pick anything. Go for a semester or two, figure out where your interests lie. Get involved; join a sorority, join a church organization, join a band."

Jessica tilted her head to the side this time. This was a new addition to the conversation they had had a few times before, and it seemed odd. "A sorority? Me? Seriously, Dad?" She laughed a little.

He smiled and joined in the laugh. "True, I guess I'd rather you didn't do that. But...Jessica, honey..." He locked his eyes on hers, and she could see just a twinge of regret behind the strength she always saw there. His voice quickly changed to match. "I guess I just want..."

She reached over and took his hand quickly, stopping him. "...me to live a normal life? Daddy. I love doing what I do." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "This is a normal life for me."

Jason smirked and chuckled a little. "Well, I'm glad." He took another few fries and munched on them as he continued. "I just don't want you getting left behind. You've said it yourself; you're different." He shrugged, letting her know there wasn't a "nicer" way of putting it. She smiled and nodded, knowing what he meant. "I don't want you to grow up without experiencing what a lot of your peers are going to get in college. It's an experience you're only going to get once. To be honest..." he paused, laughing a little, "I'm so very thankful you didn't get accepted to the Academy."

Jessica's jaw dropped. "What? You didn't want me to go? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Honey, it's what a dad does. You wanted to go. I was proud of you for trying. I was going to proud if you got accepted. I was going to be proud if you went. I'm just glad you're not. Sure, that's a whole other experience, but there's a reason it's called the 'zoo.' It's insane there. I want you to live in the real world before you join the military." He sat back a little in the seat and rubbed his stomach, full. "I've had to deal with many people from many walks of life in the almost twenty years I've been in. And one thing I've noticed is that the people who have gone to a normal college, or the people who have had that real world experience in one way or another make better troops -- officer OR enlisted."

Jessica sighed. "Daddy...look, I'm still thinking about it, ok?"

"I know. Stop thinking about it. Pray about it, ok?"