The four girls from Xavier's stood just inside the main gate of the football field. If Imogene Boothe hadn't seen them arrive, she might have mistaken them for Salem High students -- nothing in their appearance betrayed the fact that they were mutants. Imogene watched them from the shadows beneath the bleachers. Behind her, a deep voice rumbled from the darkness. "Which one is she, Poser?"

Without turning, Imogene answered her partner, Jared Bradley. "Dunno. Which one looks like she might be Jon Erik's sister?"

Jared leaned into the light to get a better look at the girls, and Imogene tried not to pull back from him. It wasn't his fault that Jared was . . . well, ugly, to put it bluntly. With his pasty skin, limpid hair, and 300 pounds of spreading fat, a lot of people took an instant dislike to him. Some even thought he must be a mutant to be so hideous, but Imogene knew better. He was just an unpopular and unfortunate sixteen year old boy who had found that the only people who didn't tease him were a street gang of mutants led by a guy called Nightmare. Because of his lack of mutant powers, Jared was dubbed "Wannabe," a name he didn't seem to mind. But Imogene wished she could've been teamed up with anyone else besides Jared. She hated the way he looked, the way he looked at her, the way his clammy touch made her skin crawl, the way he insisted on calling her -- "Genie, how bout the blonde?"

"Don't call me Genie," Imogene growled. Pushing him back into the shadows behind her, she looked at the girls again. Jon Erik had blonde hair -- the color of wet sand -- but he didn't look like the blonde from Xavier's. "Too many freckles," Imogene said.

Suddenly the girls started over towards them. Imogene stepped back into the shadows, bumping against Jared, but the girls ignored them as they climbed up onto the bleachers. As they passed, Imogene caught a gentle whiff of Liz Claiborne perfume, heard quiet laughter and whispered giggles. "Monet!" the girl with the punk hair squealed, playfully punching another girl in the shoulder. The other girl, a tall dark beauty, smiled wickedly. The blonde with the freckles and a younger Asian girl walked slightly behind the other two. The blonde looked down at Imogene and smiled wanly, and then they were lost in the crowd. "She doesn't look like Jon Erik," Jared said.

"It's not her," Imogene said. She thought the punk girl looked familiar, but she didn't recognize the green hair -- that was something she would have remembered. And the other two definitely weren't related to Jon Erik, unless by adoption.

Jared broke into her thoughts. "He said she went to Xavier's. Maybe she stayed home tonight?"

Imogene sighed. "It's a small school, Wannabe. Only seven students -- the four girls and those guys." She nodded at a trio of boys standing where the girls had been. They looked around as if scanning the crowd for their classmates. One wore a mask or a scarf of some sort; the other was a clean-cut black kid, and the third -- she gasped. "Hey, isn't that that Espinosa boy who was killed last year?"

"Who?" Jared asked. He leaned out into the light again, and Imogene pointed. Jared squinted. "Yep. Drive-by shooting. But that's him alright. Wonder if Tores knows?"

"He'll know which one she is," Imogene said confidently.

"What're you gonna do?" Jared asked. "Go up and ask him? 'Scuse me, but aren't you supposed to be dead? And by the way, could you point out Ricochet for me? I'm here to kidnap her."

"Shut up," Imogene growled. All she needed to do was touch the kid. Then her mutant power would kick in and she would be able to briefly look into his mind. Once she did that, the rest would be simple -- make Ricochet think she was him long enough to get her into the back of their van, and Jon Erik would have his sister back. Imogene could almost hear his thanks, almost see his smile. She couldn't wait to get Ricochet and get back to L.A.

*Yer didn't see which way the gels went?* Jono asked, looking around. Emma Frost told them to stick together, but Angelo had wanted a soda and when they came back, the girls were gone. *Guess they didn't want to be seen with a bunch of blokes like us.*

Everett grinned. "We must've been cramping their style. I can hear Jubilee now -- let's split before they get back."

"They wouldn't dis us like that," Angelo said. "Why don't you synch with one of them, see where they're at?"

"Tried that already," Everett admitted. "You won't believe how many other mutants are in this crowd!"

Jono looked surprised. *You mean we're not the only ones?*

Shaking his head, Everett said, "Some of them probably don't even know they're mutants. If your powers hadn't manifested so violently, you might never realize all the energy you have swirling around inside of you. And who'd want to admit they're a mutant anyway? Some of these kids probably just want to get out of high school alive, and so they never tell anyone at all."

Angelo smiled. "Yeah, Jono. Not all of us mutants want to save the world."

Pointing out at the players on the field, Everett said, "Number 17 there has super strength and agility -- makes him a great quarterback. The cheerleader with the red hair has an advanced healing factor." Turning towards the bleachers, Everett let his aura spread out over the crowd. "There's a telepath, an omnimorph, a girl who can influence luck, a boy who can control the growth of plants --"

"There's a power to have," Angelo joked. "I'm jealous."

Everett laughed. "I guess we aren't all cut out to be superheroes. Now there's an interesting power." He nodded towards the bleachers, where a skinny girl with dyed black hair and auburn roots stood in the shadows. She wore heavy black eyeliner and a Marilyn Manson shirt, and reminded Angelo of the gothic junkies back home.

"Let me guess," he said. "She turns into a vampire when the moon is full."

*Yer thinkin' of werewolves,* Jono corrected. *She's a spooker.*

"She can project an image into your mind," Everett explained. The girl looked over at them and he quickly looked away. "So you think she's someone else, but she never actually changes her appearance. You just think she does."

"She needs to change it into something more normal," Angelo said. "She looks loco."

*She keeps looking over here,* Jono said.

Suddenly Everett cut him off. "Found them." He pointed up past the girl into the bleachers. Angelo squinted against the stadium lights and saw Skylar leaning back, her arms on the seat behind her. Monet sat beside her, and Paige leaned past her to talk to some guys sitting to her other side. "Looks like they dumped us in favor of the local jocks," Everett said.

In the bleachers, Skylar leaned her head back and laughed. Angelo couldn't hear what was said, but he saw her smile and turn to the guy next to her. Grabbing Everett's arm, he said, "C'mon, amigos -- let's go see what's so funny."

*Yer wouldn't be jealous, would you?* Jono asked, but the look Angelo threw his way kept him from saying anything else.

As Angelo dragged Everett towards the bleachers with Jono in tow, Imogene got ready. Stepping out of the shadows, she walked slowly in their direction. When they were close enough, Imogene pushed a girl in front of her into Everett, throwing him off balance, and then tripped herself. In the resulting confusion, she reached out and grabbed Angelo's wrist. Suddenly a blur of his memories flooded her mind --

"They called her Ricochet."

"Remember that night at the Den?"

"I guess this is goodnight."

"Don't play games with me."

-- and one image hovered in the front of his thoughts, a soft kiss that Imogene could almost taste. But then the crowd moved on, pushing her away from him. She let go of his wrist and looked up into the bleachers to where the girls from Xavier's sat. She thought that punk chick had looked familiar -- she used to hang around Calliope, back when her green hair had been dyed a dark burgundy.

Imogene smiled. This was going to be too easy.

"You're joking," Skylar said, looking at the boy sitting next to her. With his pressed khakis and collarless shirt, he was a bit too all-American for her tastes, but he had introduced himself to them when they sat down and seemed nice enough. But when Skylar heard his name, she couldn't help but laugh. "No one is really named Brock. It's like against all moral standards. What were your parents thinking?"

Smiling, he shrugged. "What did your parents call you?" he asked.

Skylar smirked. "Trouble."

Brock's friend Fletcher leaned past them to look at Monet, sitting beside Skylar. "You girls don't go to Salem, do you?" he asked.

"What was your first clue?" Monet replied.

"Let me guess," Fletcher said. "You go to Revere, right?"

Skylar shrugged. The other team playing tonight was from Paul Revere High -- it wouldn't hurt any if these boys thought they had come from the visiting school. But the night was young and Skylar was in a good mood -- and these boys seemed so gullible. "We're mutants from Xavier's," Skylar said off-handedly. She heard Paige gasp and Jubilee groan, somewhere to the other side of Monet.

But Brock just laughed. "You're cute," he said. Skylar scrunched up her face. "If you're all mutants, what kind of powers do you have?"

Skylar stood up and stretched. "Watch me disappear." As she kicked past Brock and Fletcher, Monet followed her. "Bye, boys," she called, starting down the bleachers.

Sliding over into their seats, Brock smiled at Paige, still shocked from what Skylar had said. "Your friend's a cutie," he said. "Mutants, eh? What a laugh."

"We're from Revere," Jubilee stuttered.

Reaching the bottom of the bleachers, Skylar and Monet ran into the guys. Angelo blocked the steps. "Hola, chicas," he said, hands on his hips, looking up at Skylar.

Smiling, Skylar replied, "Hola, chivato." She tried to pass Angelo.

He blocked her way. "Chivato?" he asked, incredulous. The look on his face made her start to giggle. "Do you know what chivato means, novio de mina?"

Laughing, Skylar shook her head. "The only Spanish I know is from westerns. Now let us by."

"Not before you say you're sorry." Angelo stood his ground.

Skylar put her hands on his arms and playfully tried to push him aside. "Move," she said, scrunching up her face, but he just shook his head. Sighing, Skylar tried to stare him down, but she couldn't look at him without laughing. "What's chivato mean?" she asked.

"Let me by," Monet said, behind her. They both looked at her, and Monet sighed as if she was bored with this little display. "I don't want to have to fly over you two and perhaps endanger the status of the school."

Obliging, Angelo stepped to one side. As Monet passed, she grabbed Skylar's wrist and pulled her along. But Angelo cried out as Skylar tried to sneak past him. "Hey!" He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close, trying to keep her from leaving. Giggling, Skylar bent over and tried to squirm out from his grip. "Where you think you going, chica?"

"We're going to get something to drink," Skylar said, trying to twist out of his arms. But he held onto her tightly. She could see Jono and Everett standing behind Angelo, and she saw Monet talking with them. All three ignored their horseplay. Quickly Skylar stopped struggling, and Angelo leaned closer to her. "Please let me go," she whispered.

"What's wrong, Sky?" Angelo whispered back. "Don't want your new friends up there to see you with me?"

"What?" she asked, confused. Then, figuring he meant Brock and Fletcher, she laughed. "You've got to be kidding me, Angelo. They're football players, for crying out loud."

"You looked pretty happy up there to me," he said, pouting. He straightened up and let go of her waist.

Skylar leaned against the railing that edged the bleachers. "I was laughing at their names," she explained. "You think I'd seriously consider dating a guy named Brock?" When Angelo smiled sheepishly, she said, "You're too damn insecure, Angelo."

He leaned close to her, holding onto the railing with an arm on either side of her, trapping her. Their faces were inches apart, and she could feel his body pressing slightly against hers. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked quietly.

"It means --" Skylar looked into his dark eyes and smiled. "It means we have to talk."

"We're talking now."

Skylar looked over at the others, who were studiously ignoring them. Placing a hand against Angelo's chest, she said, "We have to talk alone." She plucked at the buttons on his flannel shirt. "Meet me over by the concession stand in ten minutes." Leaning closer, she could smell the musky scent of his cologne and she whispered one word in his ear. "Alone."

Before he could say another word, she ducked beneath his arm and left him standing there, leaning against the railing. The football game in progress was the only thing before him now, and as another touchdown was scored, the crowd went wild behind him. When he turned around, Skylar and Monet were gone, and Everett and Jono stood to one side of the bleacher steps, watching him awkwardly. Finally Everett said, "Wanna join the others?" Jono started up the steps.

Angelo shook his head. The concession stand was on the other side of the field, surrounded by a small pool of bright light that didn't extend far. If Skylar wanted to meet him there, out where the light ended -- "I'll be back," he said. Who knows? he thought. Maybe Skylar was right -- maybe he was too insecure. Maybe she wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear. There was only one way to find out.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed for the concession stand.

"Aren't you getting something?" Monet asked, handing Skylar her drink so she could unwrap a Blow-Pop. They stood at the concession stand, a large brick building that smelled of hot dogs and funnel cakes.

Skylar took a sip of the icy cola and shook her head. "I'm fine," she said. As Monet started to walk away from the busy concession stand, Skylar stopped her. "Um, Monet? I'm going to stay here. I have to talk to Angelo for a minute."

Monet studied Skylar's face in the brilliant overhead lights. "You want me to wait?" she asked.

"I don't think so," Skylar said, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "I'll catch up with you later."

"What're you two going to talk about?" When Skylar didn't answer right away, Monet pointed her Blow-Pop at her. "Listen. Don't say anything you're going to regret. We're all teammates now -- you're going to have to see him every day in class and the two of you are going to be working together for quite a while. Remember that."

Skylar nodded. "I will."

"So don't make it awkward for yourself," Monet continued. "If you like the boy, let him know. Don't keep him hanging on, or he might not wait around for you to make up your mind."

Skylar was surprised. "I thought you didn't like me hanging around with him," she admitted.

Shrugging her shoulders, Monet said, "I don't mind it as long as you don't have him sleeping over. The first morning I wake up and find you both in bed, I'm trading rooms with Jubilee."

"I'd never --" Skylar started, and then, "God, Monet! Jubilee? How could you be so cruel?"

Laughing, Monet faded back into the crowd, and Skylar smiled. At least things were going well between them. She and Monet had become fast friends. She wished things between her and Angelo could be as easy. But when the heart was involved, things were never easy. It seemed Skylar always had to learn that the hard way.

The lights didn't reach around to the side of the concession stand -- the building's shadow drenched the tall grass and the high chain fence in darkness. From the field, Skylar could hear shouts and cheers amid the opening beats of the high school band's half-time performance, and the sudden crowd heading for the concession stand made her decide to wait for Angelo in the shadows. She walked around the side of the building and away from the crowd, lost in thought. Just what did she want to say to Angelo?

Suddenly, a small light flickered in the darkness, and she heard the whirl and click of a cigarette lighter behind her. Turning around, she saw Angelo leaning nonchalantly against the wall of the concession stand, hidden in shadow. Only the warm flame from the lighter playing around his features betrayed his identity. He raised his gaze to meet hers over the cigarette, and then the lighter flickered out. "Hey, babes," he said, his voice low and grainy.

Skylar squinted in the darkness. Suddenly, something felt very wrong. "How did you get here so fast?" she asked.

He shrugged. "C'mere," he said, and tentatively, Skylar walked over to him, her hands still in her back pockets.

"What's wrong with your voice?" she asked. She wasn't sure now that she had anything to say to him, but she stepped closer anyway. When he didn't answer her right away, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and hugged herself tightly. "Angelo," she began, looking away, "I don't think --"

Suddenly, he reached out and threaded an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She turned her face from the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and he took it out and held the glowing stick in his other hand. The arm around her waist felt heavy and awkward -- Skylar just wanted to leave, but he bent down and nuzzled her neck. His hair tickled her face. "Angelo," she said, pulling back.

His grip around her waist tightened. Turning towards him, she smelled cigarette smoke and an oily, sweaty stench that choked her. What happened to his cologne? she thought. As he kissed her neck, she thought it odd that the musky scent of his cologne, just minutes ago so sensuous and enveloping, would suddenly be gone.

Roughly, she pushed him away. He let go of her and leaned against the wall, looking at her with a hooded expression. He took another drag on the cigarette, and when the smoke wafted away, it wasn't Angelo standing in front of her anymore.

It was Calliope.

Skylar would recognize those long, thick curls anywhere. Her piercing eyes, the icy color of the winter sky, stared at Skylar with a meanness Calliope had never directed at her before. "Wassamatter?" Calliope drawled, flicking the cigarette into the grass. "Don'cha like boys?"

Without thinking, Skylar tackled the girl, throwing her to the ground. Straddling her chest so that she couldn't move, Skylar hissed, "How do you know Calliope?"

The girl's face shimmered like tar on a hot day, trying to shift to another image. Skylar felt a tugging in her mind, and suddenly she knew that the people -- Angelo, Calliope -- were just images projected into her mind that had somehow managed to get past her mutant power to reflect psionic energy. Concentrating on the brief spot of pain erupting in her mind, she envisioned a wall constructed of her mutantcy to block out the psionic shapeshifting images. When she looked down at the girl, she saw her true appearance -- long, dark hair badly dyed black, pierced eyebrows and nose, cruel smile. "Well, Ricochet," the girl said, "looks like I managed to hit you where it hurts."

"How do you know Calliope?" she asked again.

The girl tried to shrug, but Skylar held her shoulders down against the grass and the girl couldn't move. "I know a lot of things about you," the girl said. "Things you don't even know."

"Bullshit," Skylar said. "Who are you?"

"Call me Poser," the girl said. "And get the hell off me." With that, she bucked under Skylar, throwing her off. Skylar tumbled and rolled away from the girl, but the night was dark and when she stood up, the girl was gone.

"Where'd she go?" Skylar asked herself as she brushed the grass from her jeans.

From behind her, someone asked, "Where'd who go, chica?"

Turning around, Skylar saw Angelo coming over. She backed away. "Who are you?" she asked. Was this that girl again, posing as Angelo?

"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching an arm out to her. Skylar took another step back. "It's me -- Angelo."

Distrustfully, Skylar pouted. "Prove it."

Angelo sighed. "How?" Thinking, he said, "Well, you used to be in this gang called the Wyld Grrls and you hung around with --"

"Don't say her name," Skylar interrupted. Coming closer to him, she commanded, "Stand still. Put your hands where I can see them."

He complied, holding his arms out as she came within his reach. "What's going on here, Sky?" he asked, but she didn't reply. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and, leaning against his neck, sniffed. "What're you doing?"

The musky scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, igniting her senses and warming her blood. Sighing with relief, Skylar leaned against him and bit her lower lip. "Oh, Angelo," she whispered as he tentatively took her in his arms. "I thought -- I mean --" She didn't know how to explain Poser to him.

Suddenly there was a crash behind them, and as Skylar turned around she saw the fence edging the football field break away as the largest kid she ever saw barreled towards them. Skylar screamed, and Angelo hugged her tighter. "ˇAye caramba!"

The kid rammed into them, knocking them both down. Skylar felt the energy spiral through her and down her arms, but she landed on Angelo and with the combined force of the attack and the energy escaping her hands, she knocked the wind out of him. Scrambling off of him, she turned around to face their attacker, but he was gone, and Poser stood in his place, a large switchblade in her hand. "C'mon, Ricochet," she said. "Don't make us have to hurt you."

Skylar scooted back from Poser, trying to keep herself between the girl and Angelo, who was doubled over on the ground, trying to catch his breath. Reaching down, Poser grabbed Skylar by the ankle and pulled her towards her. With her other leg, Skylar kicked out at the girl. "What do you want?" she cried.

"You," Poser said. Suddenly Angelo wrapped his arm around Skylar, stretching his skin as she was pulled away from him. Poser lashed out with the switchblade, cutting a wide swathe down Angelo's forearm. He cried out but held onto Skylar.

And then M was there, kicking Poser away as she landed on her. The switchblade landed in the grass and Skylar quickly pocketed the wicked weapon. As the large boy came back and grabbed for Skylar, Husk jumped in front of her, knocking him back with a fist carved of steel. Angelo pulled Skylar towards him, carefully retracting his skin, but every movement widened his wound and Skylar's shirt was sticky with his blood. As the members of Generation X attacked the duo, Skylar inspected the wound. Beside her, Angelo gasped shallowly. "Does it hurt much?" she asked.

Shaking his head, he replied, "Not yet."

A shadow fell over them. Skylar looked up and saw Chamber, looking at them. *You okay?* he asked.

Skylar nodded. "Look out!" she cried as Poser lunged for him.

Ripping apart the bandages that covered his lower face, Chamber whirled around in a blaze of biokinetic energy. Poser fell back. Looking past him, she growled at Skylar, "One day, Ricochet. I'll catch you off guard and your friends won't be around to help you then. C'mon, Wannabe." She hurried back through the broken fence, pulling her ally with her. Turning, she leveled her gaze at Skylar. "Remember that -- you're mine."

And then they were gone. The teammates stood there in the aftermath of the battle, suddenly all too aware that they had exposed their mutant powers in the middle of a high school football game. Skylar helped Angelo to his feet and smiled wanly. "I'm sorry, guys," she said. "I didn't mean --"

Jubilee spoke up. "It's not your fault that Freak Chick and Fatso were after ya," she said. "But Ms. Frost will be livid."

Skylar sighed and led Angelo towards the restrooms, holding his arm out so as to not aggravate the wound further. As they walked through the crowds, no one paid them much attention -- the fight behind the concession stand had been in the shadows and had gone mostly unnoticed. When they were a safe distance from the others, Angelo asked, "Did she touch you?" Skylar looked at him, a questioning look on her face. "When she pretended to be me," he explained, "did she touch you?"

Skylar thought of the way she had felt around Poser -- how things had seemed odd, even before she realized that it wasn't really Angelo. "I kinda thought it wasn't you," she admitted. "Even though she looked like you -- there was something about the whole thing that made me really uncomfortable. I've never feel that way around you."

"She didn't like, kiss you or anything, did she?" he persisted.

Skylar grimaced and stuck out her tongue. "Ew," she said. "I would've gotten that black lipstick all over me if she had." She turned her neck to him. "You don't see any, do you?"

Angelo grinned. "No."

"Good. Otherwise I'd have to get a cootie shot."

Despite the pain beginning to spread up his arm, Angelo laughed. "A cootie shot?" he asked. He looked up and stopped in front of the door to the girls' bathroom. "I'll need one too if you take me in there."

"Come on," she said, tugging at his other arm. "We've got to get you cleaned up and I can't just waltz into the guy's room." She peeked around the door and said, "There's no one in here."

"What if someone comes in?" Angelo protested.

"We'll just have to be quick," Skylar countered. She turned on the cold water tap on the nearest sink. "Now come over here." After they washed the dirt and grass from the wound and wiped away the blood around it, the cut didn't look so bad. Angelo's skin had been stretched tight when Poser lashed out at him, and because of that, the wound was long, winding down the length of his arm, but it wasn't deep enough for stitches. After she had covered it with band-aids she found in a medical kit against the wall of the bathroom, Skylar turned his arm up and kissed the bandages. "There," she said, stepping back. He sat on the edge of the sink, and she stood between his legs. "All better."

Her child-like smile when she looked up at him made Angelo sigh. "You make it very hard to be just friends," he said. He crossed his ankles behind her, trapping her near him. Cradling her face in both of his hands, he asked softly, "Did you still want to have that talk?"

Closing her eyes, she allowed him to pull her closer. "We don't have to talk right now," she whispered as his lips touched hers.

Someone cleared their throat, and Skylar turned to see Emma Frost standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Instantly she pulled back from Angelo, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and looking down at the ground. Angelo slipped off the edge of the sink and ran a hand nervously through his hair. "We're ready to go," Emma said.

She held the door open as Angelo and Skylar walked out. Skylar was sure Ms. Frost would stop her, and she felt the headmistress's gaze on her shoulders as she passed, but Emma didn't say anything as they left.

It was after eleven when they got back to the school. As they clambered out of the mini-van, Emma said, "Angelo, get over to Med-Lab so we can have a look at that cut. Paige, go with him. I want to document your latest husk. Skylar --"

Skylar interrupted her. "Let me guess. Detention hall, right?"

Emma frowned. "No. I want a paper describing your opponents tonight in as much detail as you can remember. Names, physical descriptions, mutant powers -- make it good."

Sighing, Skylar asked, "Can't I just have detention instead?"

"The paper," Emma said, a warning in her voice. "The rest of you, get to bed. It's late and it's only Wednesday -- you've got Calculus in the morning."

As Angelo walked up the steps into the main building of the school, he turned back and looked at Skylar. "Tonight, Angelo," Emma said, following him into the building. Skylar felt a hand on her shoulder and turned away.

Jono stood behind her. *C'mon, gel,* he said, his arm draped over her shoulder. *It's been quite an evening.*

She nodded, and together they walked to the girls' dorm. Jubilee was ahead of them, and Monet had flown back on her own. Quietly, Jono asked, *Did the two of you get to talk?*

Skylar shook her head. "It's just as well," she admitted. "I don't know what I want to say."

*'E likes you.*

"Hmm." Skylar shivered in the cool air. "It's just that whenever I've gotten close to anyone, something happens that tears it all apart. I lost my family that way -- I'm afraid to lose anyone else."

Trying to change the subject, Jono asked, *Who were those blokes tonight?*

Skylar shrugged. "I have no idea. The girl called herself Poser, but I've never even heard of her before. She did know Calliope, though."

Calliope?*

"An old friend," Skylar explained, and left it at that. As they neared the girls' dorm, she added, "She said she knew things about me that I didn't even know. That scares me a little. I mean, what could she possibly be talking about?"

Jono shrugged. *Maybe she was just trying to shake you up a little,* he suggested. But as Skylar went up to her room to write that damn report Ms. Frost wanted, she somehow didn't think things were that simple. Why would Poser even bother to attack her, of all people? Had Calliope sent her?

Skylar shook her head to clear those thoughts from her mind. Calliope would never do anything to hurt her, despite the fact that she had left without even saying goodbye. Calliope just wasn't like that. Not to her.

Paige peeked into the examination room. "You almost ready to go?" she asked Angelo. He sat on the table as Sean Cassidy finished wrapping his arm in medical gauze. Skylar had been right -- the wound didn't need stitches -- but Sean had insisted on disinfecting and rebandaging it before he was satisfied that Angelo would be alright.

"Almost done," Sean said to Paige. "And then he's all yours."

She waited out in the hall for Angelo. When he came out of the room, he smiled. "Good as new," he said, holding up his arm so she could see the bandage.

Paige smiled. "Here we are training to fight against mutants using our powers, and when they do attack us, it's with knives. Can't really fight that."

Angelo shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said as they walked out of the Med-Lab. "Don't forget -- this hombre has fought on the streets of L.A. That's no mean feat."

Together they headed for the dormitories. As they neared the girls' dorm, Paige slowed down a bit. "Angelo," she asked quietly, "do you think Skylar knew those kids tonight?"

He shook his head. "I never saw them around the hood, and I would've remembered someone like that Poser chica."

"But she seemed to know Skylar," Paige persisted. "She even called her Ricochet -- she must know she's a mutant."

Angelo shrugged. "The chicas she hung around with were all mutants, but we didn't think of them like that. We just thought they were a bunch of tough girls, you know? They lived in the streets -- life couldn't get much harder on them."

"Skylar lived in the streets?" Paige asked, surprised.

"An old warehouse," Angelo corrected. "Not exactly the Holiday Inn, if you know what I mean."

Paige was silent as they walked up to the door of the girls' dorm. In the glow from the overhead light, she turned to Angelo and asked, "How long have you known her?"

"A little more than a year," he said. "We were friends even though we weren't supposed to be."

"What do you mean?"

Angelo smiled. "There's this chica called Calliope back home, real bad news. Can manipulate your thoughts just by talking to you -- make you think what she wants you to think. She didn't like boys hanging around the girls in her gang -- didn't like boys at all, actually -- and she hated anyone who even looked at Skylar. If I hadn't gotten out when I did, I'm sure she would've killed me eventually."

"You and Skylar dated?" she asked tentatively.

Shrugging, Angelo said, "I don't know if you'd call it dating really -- we just hung out, messed around a bit. Mi madre liked her."

Before she could stop herself, Paige asked, "You still like her, don't you?" Angelo nodded. Paige continued, "Do you think you might have another chance with her?"

"I hope so," he admitted. "Things are looking good so far."

"What do you mean?"

Leaning close, Angelo whispered loudly, "She wouldn't be watching us out her window if she wasn't interested."

Paige glanced up quickly, and sure enough, there sat Skylar, two stories above them. Light edged the closed curtains, framing the dark window, and she sat in the corner, head in her hands, watching them. When Paige smiled, Skylar didn't smile back. "If you see her when you go up there," Angelo said, "ask her to come down."

Nodding, Paige entered the girls' dorm, her thoughts in a whirl. If Skylar liked Angelo as much as he thought she did, then why was she always hanging around Jono? Maybe Paige was worried about nothing after all.

She passed Skylar coming down the stairs. She stopped to say something to her, but Skylar hurried down the steps without looking at her. Paige continued to her room, a slight smile on her face.

"You were waiting for me," Angelo said as Skylar came outside. She wore a light pink tank-top and shorts set, obviously pajamas, and she hugged herself close as she came over to him. He stood slightly outside of the arc of the light, and he could see her shivering in the cold night air. When she didn't say anything, he said, "You should've put on a coat."

"Don't plan on being out here long," Skylar said. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Smiling, Angelo said, "I'm fine. How about you?" She shrugged. "How's that paper coming?"

"Monet is amazing," Skylar admitted. "She started typing on that computer of hers over an hour ago and now we've got detailed images of the attackers as well as bios, stats -- you name it, she's got it. Her mind's like a camera or something. All I remembered was their names."

"Any ideas on why they attacked you?" he asked, watching her. His arms ached to pull her close -- she looked so cold -- but she stood just out of his reach, in the light.

Skylar shrugged. "Monet said they might be relatives or something, but as far as I know, I'm the only freak in the family tree." Looking around, she asked, "So, um, your arm's okay?" He nodded and held out his arm. The bandage glowed faintly in the light. "What were you and Paige talking about?"

"You," he admitted.

"Figured that," she said. "She wasn't too subtle when you told her I was at the window."

"You could hear us?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, but why else would she turn around if you didn't say don't look now, but --" She smiled. "Now who sounds insecure?"

The smile faded from Angelo's face, and he took a step closer to her. His arm eased around her waist, and in the cold air he could feel the warmth of her skin underneath the flimsy fabric of her pajamas. "Skylar," he began, pulling her to him. She felt so fragile in his arms, so vulnerable. "I don't --"

She laid a hand on his chest and looked past him. "Shh," she said quietly, pulling back. "Here they come."

Turning around, he saw Emma Frost and Sean Cassidy walking back towards the dorms, finally ready to call it a night. Even though they had their own homes on the campus grounds, the headmasters of Xavier's always checked the locks on the outside of the dormitories when the students were all in bed. They were still a few yards off, and Angelo turned back to Skylar, intent on saying what he had hoped to say to her that evening at the football game.

But the quiet latch of the girls' dorm door was the only sound in the still air, and he saw her inside through the windows on the door, hurrying back up the stairs. "ˇCaray!" he muttered. Another chance, gone. Slowly he turned and headed for the boy's dorm.

It seemed in the last few days, he had developed another mutant power -- bad timing. Why was it that whenever he wanted to talk to her, something always interrupted them?