Categories > Cartoons > X-Men: Evolution > That Stupid School Project
Author's Note: It was here that I started realizing that accents were annoying, so they will be slowly weeded out from the rest of the fic.
~ ~ ~
“What were you thinking, Rogue?” Irene asked.
Rogue sat in one of the comfy armchairs, looking awkward, not that Irene would know. “Ah sassed her, Ah know, but Ah was angry,” Rogue muttered.
Irene kept her face trained on Marie's. The girl felt a blush creep up her face under the make up. “Look, yah gotta understand, there's this girl at school, an' she was gettin' beat up, and Ah tried to help, but things kinda spiraled outta control, and th' next thing Ah knew we were fightin', an' well, yeah.”
Irene sighed. “Rogue, this is not how you want to start off is it? Every year is a fresh chance, and you know it.”
Silence blossomed. Irene rose stiffly, and walked over to the stereo, flipping dials until Mozart was flowing through the room on soft notes. Marie curled up in the arm chair, pulling her knees to her chest. Sometimes she wondered why Irene even bothered with her. Or why Rogue even bothered. She liked black clothes, dark make-up, and being tough. She was respected because people were afraid of her.
“You have a bright future ahead of you, Little Cub,” Irene commented, her voice weaving with the sonata. Rogue flinched at the childhood nickname. She'd wanted to be a fox-bear-panther growing up, and all they'd had in common was that their children were cubs. “You can mess it up, or not, but hurting the people around you isn't going to make that future any brighter. You're intelligent, and smart, and you could be doing great things with your life.”
But I'm not, Rogue thought, feeling small and scared. I'm a Junior and I haven't decided what college I want to go to, and I haven't taken my SATs, and I haven't taken my ACTs, and I don't know what I want to do with my life, and the third week of school I'm already screwing up. Do I even get a second chance? What if we have to move back to Missouri?
“No more fighting, Marie,” Irene's voice broke through the panic. “I mean it. No fighting. And you have to promise me something.”
“What?” Green eyes managed to tare themselves from the mesh encasing her knees.
“Raven is my best friend, Marie,” Irene said slowly, carefully. “I can't order her to be a better mother. I can't order you to give her a second chance. But I am going to order you to ignore how you feel about her. This has gone on for too long. You can't blame Raven for not giving you all the help that Kurt has received. She isn't going to make your life suddenly easier, and that fact is never going to change. You have to move on, and part of that means stop trying to cut your nose off to spite her. You're grounded for the next two weeks. Any friends can come over, but you will be doing school work in the kitchen. And Marie, you need to think about this, too: We can go back to Missouri. We will if you get into another fight. We will if you want it now. It's an option.”
“And if I want to stay here?” Marie asked quietly, not certain if she did.
“Then we stay here,” Irene replied. “I work on my novels, and NYU has offered me a place as guest lecturer in Disability Studies in the spring semester,” she smiled, shaking her head, as her cane tapped nervously against the floor. “I meant to tell you the good news when you got home. I just got caught up in the call from Raven.”
“Really?” Marie asked, looking amazed. She had known Irene had wanted to be a college professor at one point, but had to drop out of grad school for some reason before she could finish her PhD.
“Dream job on a platter, and my daughter nearly getting expelled all at once,” Irene laughed dryly. “It's been quite a day.”
She doesn't want to go back to Missouri, Rogue realized. Irene has always wanted to be here. It's an option. She knows I don't like it here. I don't like dealing with everything. But I like Dad. And the guys aren't so bad.
“All right, Irene,” Rogue said, straightening. “I hope the thing at NYU works out then. I promise I won't get caught fighting again, really.”
Irene turned her head intently, raising an eyebrow behind her black glasses. “Marie,” she began.
“I'll work on it,” Rogue promised, almost whining. “Promise. Really, I will. And you know, I'm working on this project, so I might have to bring someone home tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“You'll do your work at the kitchen table,” Irene said. “And only your work. And you have to be here by three fifteen. On the dot. Or earlier, if you can.”
“I will,” Rogue promised, standing to grab her backpack. “See? I'm already beginning my homework. Algebra is filled with homework-y love.”
“I'll get working on supper, then,” Irene replied, smiling. “Good little Muslims can't go hungry.”
“What?” Rogue asked, looking up in confusion.
“Didn't you know? What are they teaching you? Algebra was invented in the middle east at the same time as the Dark Ages were sweeping Europe,” Irene replied.
“So I get to blame my homework on Iran, then?” Marie asked hopefully.
“If you want to,” Irene replied. “I would personally find better things to do with my time. My homework for example.”
“Yes, Mom,” Rogue sighed.
~ ~ ~
“What were you thinking, Rogue?” Irene asked.
Rogue sat in one of the comfy armchairs, looking awkward, not that Irene would know. “Ah sassed her, Ah know, but Ah was angry,” Rogue muttered.
Irene kept her face trained on Marie's. The girl felt a blush creep up her face under the make up. “Look, yah gotta understand, there's this girl at school, an' she was gettin' beat up, and Ah tried to help, but things kinda spiraled outta control, and th' next thing Ah knew we were fightin', an' well, yeah.”
Irene sighed. “Rogue, this is not how you want to start off is it? Every year is a fresh chance, and you know it.”
Silence blossomed. Irene rose stiffly, and walked over to the stereo, flipping dials until Mozart was flowing through the room on soft notes. Marie curled up in the arm chair, pulling her knees to her chest. Sometimes she wondered why Irene even bothered with her. Or why Rogue even bothered. She liked black clothes, dark make-up, and being tough. She was respected because people were afraid of her.
“You have a bright future ahead of you, Little Cub,” Irene commented, her voice weaving with the sonata. Rogue flinched at the childhood nickname. She'd wanted to be a fox-bear-panther growing up, and all they'd had in common was that their children were cubs. “You can mess it up, or not, but hurting the people around you isn't going to make that future any brighter. You're intelligent, and smart, and you could be doing great things with your life.”
But I'm not, Rogue thought, feeling small and scared. I'm a Junior and I haven't decided what college I want to go to, and I haven't taken my SATs, and I haven't taken my ACTs, and I don't know what I want to do with my life, and the third week of school I'm already screwing up. Do I even get a second chance? What if we have to move back to Missouri?
“No more fighting, Marie,” Irene's voice broke through the panic. “I mean it. No fighting. And you have to promise me something.”
“What?” Green eyes managed to tare themselves from the mesh encasing her knees.
“Raven is my best friend, Marie,” Irene said slowly, carefully. “I can't order her to be a better mother. I can't order you to give her a second chance. But I am going to order you to ignore how you feel about her. This has gone on for too long. You can't blame Raven for not giving you all the help that Kurt has received. She isn't going to make your life suddenly easier, and that fact is never going to change. You have to move on, and part of that means stop trying to cut your nose off to spite her. You're grounded for the next two weeks. Any friends can come over, but you will be doing school work in the kitchen. And Marie, you need to think about this, too: We can go back to Missouri. We will if you get into another fight. We will if you want it now. It's an option.”
“And if I want to stay here?” Marie asked quietly, not certain if she did.
“Then we stay here,” Irene replied. “I work on my novels, and NYU has offered me a place as guest lecturer in Disability Studies in the spring semester,” she smiled, shaking her head, as her cane tapped nervously against the floor. “I meant to tell you the good news when you got home. I just got caught up in the call from Raven.”
“Really?” Marie asked, looking amazed. She had known Irene had wanted to be a college professor at one point, but had to drop out of grad school for some reason before she could finish her PhD.
“Dream job on a platter, and my daughter nearly getting expelled all at once,” Irene laughed dryly. “It's been quite a day.”
She doesn't want to go back to Missouri, Rogue realized. Irene has always wanted to be here. It's an option. She knows I don't like it here. I don't like dealing with everything. But I like Dad. And the guys aren't so bad.
“All right, Irene,” Rogue said, straightening. “I hope the thing at NYU works out then. I promise I won't get caught fighting again, really.”
Irene turned her head intently, raising an eyebrow behind her black glasses. “Marie,” she began.
“I'll work on it,” Rogue promised, almost whining. “Promise. Really, I will. And you know, I'm working on this project, so I might have to bring someone home tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“You'll do your work at the kitchen table,” Irene said. “And only your work. And you have to be here by three fifteen. On the dot. Or earlier, if you can.”
“I will,” Rogue promised, standing to grab her backpack. “See? I'm already beginning my homework. Algebra is filled with homework-y love.”
“I'll get working on supper, then,” Irene replied, smiling. “Good little Muslims can't go hungry.”
“What?” Rogue asked, looking up in confusion.
“Didn't you know? What are they teaching you? Algebra was invented in the middle east at the same time as the Dark Ages were sweeping Europe,” Irene replied.
“So I get to blame my homework on Iran, then?” Marie asked hopefully.
“If you want to,” Irene replied. “I would personally find better things to do with my time. My homework for example.”
“Yes, Mom,” Rogue sighed.
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