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Author's Note: I've officially completed the story, which is awesome because I have two essays I've gotta get cracking on.
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A month and a half passed since the falling out in the teacher’s lounge. There were rumors going around the school, but they were nothing compared to how the teachers behaved around Ororo. They neither went out of their way to speak to her nor exclude her, they simply hoped she would be there but say nothing. And if she did say something, they hoped she would volunteer information about what happened and put certain rumors to rest.

Ororo, Marie, and Jean’s mutual friends didn’t know what to do. They didn’t really speak to Ororo in hopes that Jean and Marie wouldn’t gang up on them and splash coffee in their faces, but they pitied Ororo. Their African American friend was a solitary figure now who looked like she just might disappear into either the background or her insurmountable sadness.

And Ororo was sad. She stopped smiling so much and her clothes were either gray or black or navy blue. Whenever she spoke to someone, she sounded wistful, as though she was hoping you would speak to her but would also leave her alone. It was like a rain cloud followed her everywhere.

She made the decision to avoid her easy by being so hard to be around.

Ali and the new gym teacher, Yukio, were the only ones to actively try and be around Ororo.

“What d’you say to going to an outdoor concert with me this Saturday?” asked Ali while she peeled her orange.

“Hm,” Ororo said noncommittally, poking at her pesto spaghetti. She’d sort of had an increase in appetite since Logan left. Ororo once read that people ate their feelings when going through a period of depression. Curious, because when T’Challa left her, she never wanted to eat anything. But she had to figure that those two relationships were different and so it only made sense her reactions would be different. It just sucked that she had to gain three pounds that refused to go away. “Maybe,” she decided.

“Maybe?” repeated Ali exasperated. “You need to get out of your house. You’re losing your color!”

“Yeah, you are starting to look a little white,” Yukio remarked. “Maybe you should take a vacation. Recuperate.” Yukio poked at her wakame salad. “I know a great spot. We should go together,” she said brightly.

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t swing that way,” joked Ali, nudging Yukio in the ribs.

“She should try. She’s obviously single,” Yukio said under her breath to Ali.

Ali shot Yukio a withering look. “Anyways! You, me, the park. We should do this.”

“Maybe, Ali. If I’m free.”

“You’re always free. And you’re coming.” Ali poked her fork at Ororo. “That’s final.”

Ororo smiled weakly at her friend’s efforts. “Fine.” She bit into her food, finding the taste slightly off. “Who’s playing?”

“A progressive... You alright?”

Ororo nodded, forcing a smile on her face and swallowing thickly. Her answer failed to appease Ali and Yukio was beginning to give her a suspicious look. “I just feel a little...tired.” That wasn’t a lie and it wasn’t the truth. Ororo had been feeling tired quite a lot for the past few days, but she’d been sleeping almo. “What?”

“I dunno...” Yukio tipped her head, regarding her friend. “You don’t look tired. I mean, you do, but... Right now? You look like you’re about to puke.” Yukio grimaced. “Oh, god, if you are gonna puke please--”

“I’m fine,” Ororo snapped, opening her bottle of green tea. She took several chugs of the overly sweetened stuff and prayed she looked convincing. For a moment, Ororo was convinced her stomach would stop rolling before it turned once more. She clapped a hand over her mouth and held her hand steady, not bothering to play it off. How could she?-- Ali and Yukio were already leaning away from Ororo.

Ororo heaved a sigh and capped her lid on her meal, then put them back in cloth lunch bag. “I’m going to my room to finish some work.” She rose to her full height, ignoring the look of relief on her friends’ faces. “Ali, I’ll call you later about Saturday. Yukio,” she said in lieu of a farewell.

On her trek back to her classroom, she happened to overhear someone call her name. She turned her head, looking for the source of the noise. She eventually noticed the school’s principal and namesake, Charles Xavier, waving her over. A sense of unease washed over her, knowing what was about to come. It was only a matter of time before the hush-hush rumors got back to Charles.

“Close the door, please,” he said kindly, not looking up from a paper he was signing. Ororo did as asked, then took a seat in one of his plush leather chairs. Her eyes flicked about the room, taking in the numerous plaques and books. When her gaze finally came back to Charles, he was smiling at her. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, Ororo.”

“Yes sir.”

Charles chuckled. “I’m not going to fire you, if that’s what’s gotten you so serious. ‘Sir,’” he breathed a laugh and shook his head, “you’ve never called me that before.”

Ororo’s shoulders relaxed, but only just. “Sorry... This has never happened to me before.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He pursed his lips, serious. “It had better not. I don’t know why Jean threw coffee on you and I don’t know why Marie called you all those names, nor do I want to know. I’ve already spoken to Jean and I’ve already spoken to Marie.” Ororo swallowed, putting a hand over her rolling stomach. “Should this happen again, I will not hesitate to fire all of you. Had we not been so severely understaffed, I would have already.”

Ororo nodded, unsure if it would be appropriate to defend herself. Probably not. “Of course. It won’t happen again. We’re adults; we’ll behave like adults from now on.”

Charles hummed. “You’d better. You’re dismissed.” Ororo stood and grabbed her lunch bag. “Oh, and while you’re here, I should let you know you’re looking a little green. You should see a doctor, Ororo.”





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