Scott looked at the sky. "It'll be dark in two or three hours. I would feel more comfortable waiting."

"There's a gas station down the road," Rogue said. "I don't know about you guys, but I could use a bathroom."

"I could use some clean underwear," Jean muttered.

"Turn it inside out," Logan suggested. "You can make it last twice as long that way."

"Gee, thanks," Jean said, giving him a dirty look.

The gas station was large and well maintained. Not much business, though. Another station, just down the road, was filled with cars.

When Kurt saw the clerk he understood why.

"Hey," said the young lady, when they entered. She leaned on the plastic counter, a magazine in her blinking hands.

"h.e.l.lo," said Kurt, trying to keep track of all her eyes. Her face was covered with them, as was the rest of her body. Blue, brown, greena"eyes of different colors and sizes, all of them staring in different directions.

"Can we use your bathroom?" Jean asked.

"Sure," said the girl. She glanced at Kurt and frowned. "Are you staring at me?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry. You have a fascinating face."

"Hmph," she said. "Do you want to buy something?"

"I'm afraid I don't have enough money."

"Then keep talking."

Kurt rested his elbows on the counter; the girl did not move. She stared at him. Really, really stared.

He said, "It must be easy to hurt yourself. Eyes are so sensitive, after all."

She studied his face. It was difficult to read her expression, partially because eyes covered it up.

"Sometimes it's trouble," she finally said. "That's why I try to keep this place clean. You a mutant or something?"

"No," Scott answered for him. "But a lot of our friends

77.

are.

"Oh," she said. "You must not be from here, then. There aren't a lot of us in town." "Trouble?" he asked.

"People here don't cause trouble. They ignore it, sweep it under the rug. No, there just aren't a lot of mutants. Not many born, not many who come. I guess they feel safer in the bigger cities." "And you?"

"Lived here all my life. Married my high-school sweetheart. This is our place."

"People don't treat you differently?" Scott asked. All her eyes narrowed. "Why would they?" Rogue and Jean came out of the bathroom. Scott said, "All I meanta""

"I know what you meant. And no, people don't treat me differently. If they do, they're not the kind I want to know, anyway."

"Are you causing trouble?" Jean asked her husband. She looked at the clerk. "I'm sorry. Sometimes my . . . wife ... gets a little too nosy."

"Sure, no problem." The girl looked down at her magazine. She did not talk to them again.

"Smooth," Logan said, when they left the gas station. "Your skills as an X-Man really shone through back in there."

"I didn't notice you saying anything," Scott said. "Exactly. Why would I? Any idiot could tell that girl's doing fine."

"She's a mutant."

"Not everyone feels persecuted," Kurt murmured, but he knew that would be difficult for his friend to take as truth. Scott's experiences told him otherwise. Of course, as difficult as it was to be the persecuted, even the hunted could be guilty of the same sin, in another form.

Scott shook his head. "Fine. Let's move."

They walked to a nearby park and sat on the gra.s.s where they opened up the bread, dipping it into the peanut b.u.t.ter jar. They did not speak, but dozed in the waning sunlight, waiting for night. Kurt watched children play. No kites, but Frisbees and baseb.a.l.l.s. He liked listening to their laughter, which was happy, unrestrained. They were not yet old enough to know about holding back, the disease of self-consciousness. Kurt had experienced it briefly in his teens, but the circus had no patience for shyness. At least not in public.

When it grew dark they went back to the grocery store and sat in the bushes on the edge of the parking lot, watching who went in and out. Ten minutes of doing this, and a beat up little Corolla pulled into a nearby s.p.a.ce. The driver, a young man who looked barely out of high school, wore the store uniform. He never noticed his watchers; he had headphones on, and strutted his way into work.

"Bingo," Logan said. "That one's not going to be out for hours."

It did not take him long. The boy had forgotten to lock his door and everyone clambered into the car.

Ten minutes later, they were on the freeway headed east.

13.

THE WAY LOGAN DRANK HIS BEER WAS NOT THE FIRST indication that something was wrong, but it was the most significant, and Jubilee could not help but consider it a minor sign of the apocalypse when she sat beside him and watched his little pinky lift off the can. It was very slight, barely noticeable, but it was that subtle delicacy that made her antenna go boom-boom. She watched him take a long swallow of beer with the same startled interest reserved for particularly nasty cases of foot fungus, dudes dressed as Klingons, or old white guys who thought it was okay to run around with their shirts off.

She said, "Hey, are you feeling all right?"

"Peachy," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing. You just seem a little ... different... since you got back from Seattle."

"Just your imagination."

"Right." She scooted a little closer. "So, remember that talk we had before you left?"

He never looked at her, just drank his beer. The sports channel was on, but he switched it to the news.

"Wolvie?"

"I heard you. Remind me."

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "You were going to take me to j.a.pan this year. When you visit Mariko."

Mariko, who was dead and gone. Jubilee still remembered a rainy night, years past, when Logan had huddled over her grave, sobbing his heart out like he could bring her back with tears or pain. Every year he visited her, every year on a special day. He always went alone. He always left without telling anyone. This time, Jubilee wanted to go, too. Not to intrude, but to be that friend she thought he needed.

And besides, traveling with Logana"no matter how sad the circ.u.mstancesa"was always an adventure. She needed one of those right now. Bad.

"Mariko," he finally said. "Sure thing, kid. It'll be nice to see her again."

Jubilee blinked. Logan picked up the remote control and changed the channel. Gunshots filled the air and he grinned.

She stood up and left the room. Logan did not say good-bye.

Jubilee found Remy in the garage, stretched out on the ground beneath his car. She grabbed his ankles and yanked hard. Something thumped, she heard him swear, and then he rolled the rest of the way out, holding his head.

"Make this good or else I'm cuttin' your new jacket."

'You're evil," she said, "but not as evil as Wolverine. Dude is not the same."

Remy sat up. "Tell me."

Jubilee resisted the urge to hug him. Things like this were why she liked Gambit second-best only to Wolvie. He took her seriously. He always listened. She scooted close, and in a low voice said, "First of all, he's holding his beer like a girl. Like, not a real girl, 'cause he's not all dainty and stuff, but there was some pinky action going on, like, a real honest-to-G.o.d pinky lift, and then he needed me to remind him of this conversation we had, which never happens because Wolvie always remembers everythinga"no exaggerationa"and this was big, Remy, real big, because I asked him to take me to j.a.pan with him this year, you know, when he visits Mariko's grave, and when I said thata"when I said that, do you know what he told me? He said, 'It'll be nice to see her again.' And I was like, holy c.r.a.p. Nice to see her again?"

Remy frowned. "Maybe he meant to say it a different way. Maybe it just came out wrong."

"It came out wrong like a fifty-pound baby, Remy. Wolvie doesn't do wrong like that. He says what he means."

"Okay, then." Remy briefly shut his eyes. "Okay. So something's different. He's not the same man. You don't mean that literally, do you, ma pet.i.te?"

"Don't ask me!" she said. "Jeez, who's the adult here?"

Remy gave her a dirty look. "We need to talk to 'Ro."

"No kidding. Have you noticed anything weird? Like, with Rogue?"

"I haven't seen her much," Remy confessed. "She's been staying in her room a lot."

"I find that highly suspicious."

"That's not sayin' much. Mood you're in, you'd persecute a kitten."

"Right on, dude. Down with 'em all." She stood up, gesturing for Remy to do the same. "Now move it! We're in the middle of Invasion of the Body s.n.a.t.c.hers, here. No time to relax."

Remy grumbled something unflattering. They went to find Ororo.

The phone rang as they entered the main hall. There were several public phones placed through the Mansion; easy access for anyone who needed to make a call or answer one. Jubilee was only three steps away from the receiver when Scott came bursting out of a side office. He blocked the phone with his body and picked up the receiver.

"Hey," Jubilee said, smacking him on the shoulder. He ignored her. She hated that.

She heard him say the name "Mindy" and then everything else was a garbled mess and he hung up the phone.

"Who's Mindy?"

"A wrong number," Scott said, turning around to face them.

"We don't usually get wrong numbers," Remy said. "You sure?"

"You think I wouldn't be?" There was a challenge in his voice that didn't sound like him at all, and made Jubilee uneasy. She grabbed Remy's hand and tugged him away.

"S'kay, Cyke," she said. "We believe you."

"That's better," he said, in a self-important tone that for a moment carried the subtle hint of an odd accent. Giving them one last hard look, he returned to his office and shut the door.

"You were sayin' something about Body s.n.a.t.c.hing?" Remy said.

"Uh-huh," she said, sick.

It went unsaid between them, but as they walked through the Mansion they took care to avoid the rest of the team, those who had gone to Seattle. Jubilee was not quite sure how to hide her suspicions from a psychic like Jeana"it was possible, even, that she was already aware that Jubilee was getting Freaked Out. If that was the case, then the game was up. Until she found out for certain, though, her strategy was simple: avoid, avoid, avoid.

And then, if she had to, kick some b.u.t.t. Yeah, baby.

They found Ororo in Xavier's study, sitting behind his desk like she belonged there. For a moment, Jubilee felt a pang of anxiety, and then Ororo looked up from the paperwork in front of her and smiled. A real smile, genuine and utterly familiar. Jubilee sighed.

"You feel like going out for dinner?" Remy asked, closing the door behind him. "I know a great little spot in town you haven't tried yet."

"I do not think so," Ororo said, looking curiously at him. "One of us has to stay here and watch the students."

"Ah," he said, and looked at Jubilee with a smile tainted by bitterness. 'You just told me all I need to know, 'Ro."

"Excuse me?"

"You don' trust them, either. Scott, and the others."