Chapter 4
Dear Logan,
I’m just fine, thanks for asking. Which you didn’t, because you never write back. I don’t even know if you actually get these, but I think the Prof would tell me if he couldn’t pass them along, or at least return to sender or something.
Anyway, so much for school being safer than the X-Men. I guess when you win the genetic lottery, the big prize is that everything tries to kill you, like, all the time! Like, you go to pick some guy up at the airport, and suddenly there’s a monster in a gas mask who’s trying to suck out your marrow, and a girl made of spikes shows up at your door.
The plus of the school is that nobody thinks it’s our job to deal with it, except maybe for Paige and Monet. If you ever tell anybody I said this, I’ll replace all your gross booze with Mountain Dew while you’re asleep, but sometimes it’s really nice living with actual adults who don’t, like, expect us to be, even if one of those adults also carries around a riding crop (three guesses which). I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was cool being part of the team, but it sucks feeling like you have to save the world when you can’t even get a driver’s license.
(Speaking of the good old days, you’re never gonna guess who showed up for a visit. Freaking GATEWAY. So what’s your excuse?)
It doesn’t hurt that we’re not exactly overflowing with superhero material here. I mean, M’s basically Superman-plus, and Ev can replicate anyone’s powers, but otherwise? If you thought my fireworks were sad, wait ‘til you see Angelo’s super-stretchy skin, which is also this totally sickly grey. Jono basically blew himself up when his powers manifested, so half his body and face are just, like, gone. How bogus is that? Now he wears scarves all the time and tries to be all mysterious and brooding like some kind of wannabe Morrissey.
I know I’m making it sound like dweeb central command, and it kind of is, but honestly? I kind of like ‘em.
Jubes