"Yeah," the girl whispered and nodded her head, brushing the pale lavender hair out of her eyes.

    "There anyone home?" he questioned. The girl seemed so unsure of herself he felt it was his job to check.

    "I don't know yet. But the letter said someone would be waiting. I think it's safe for you to leave, now," she answered with a sad smile. She pushed the glasses up her nose and brushed more, pale lavender hair behind her ear.

    "Okay...but I'll drive real slow," the cabi assured her and drove back down the driveway. She watched him and then walked up the steps, dragging a heavy black bag, and knocked lightly on the door.

    "Hello," the door opened to reveal a young girl with short cut black hair. She wore a yellow raincoat over a black tank top and a pair of ragged jeans.

    The girl bit her lip and fought back tears. Maybe she wasn't in the right place, after all. "I...I...," she stuttered and then whimpered. Tears cascaded down her white cheeks and danced in the sunlight.

    A large man with strawberry hair stepped up behind the black haired girl. "Hullo, Butterfly. I didn't expect ya here today. How's yuir mother?" The black haired girl disappeared into the shadows.

    Butterfly's bravado collapsed and she burst into sobs. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cassidy, but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

    The slight girl shook with fear. She ran a hand through her lavender hair and wrapped her arms tight around herself. A breeze blew the folds of her large, light blue, long sleeved blouse and ruffed the pleats in her ankle length, light blue skirt edged in lace. Pale blue beads hung in her lavender hair and clanked against each other in the breeze.

    Mr. Cassidy reached out and enveloped the shaking girl in a hug. She let him hold her for a few minutes then she broke away with a tiny cry. "Momma died a few weeks ago and she made sure I got sent here."

    "Yuir mum was a wise lady, lass. We can help ya here. Help ya learn to control yuir powers, help ya learn to adjust," Cassidy tried to comfort her.

    "I don't want that, Mr. Cassidy! It's kind for you to offer it but I don't want it! I want my momma!" Butterfly cried and ran her hand across her eyes, wiping away gossamer tears.

    Cassidy studied the girl with the lavender hair. He had received the letter from her mum a few months ago. Butterfly's mother knew of her mutant powers and knew the girl was better off at Xaviers. She also knew it would be hard for Butterfly to adjust. The girl was only twelve and barley that, her birthday having been a little over a month ago. Her mother suspected Butterfly's friend, Conner, was the one who jump-started her powers early, but had no proof. She had included a picture of Butterfly so Cassidy would know her if she suddenly showed up at his door.

    "I know you want yuir mother, sweetheart, but isn't this where she wanted you to go?" he tried to make his voice comforting and calm.

    "Yes. But...but I want to be with her."

    "I promise you, Butterfly, one day you will," and he escorted the young girl into the house taking the large, black bag from her. She was smaller than Jubilee. Thinner and shorter with delicate bones, pale skin like alabaster, and tiny eyes hidden from the sun by dark glasses. Butterfly removed the glasses. Cassidy turned and found a pair of deep violet eyes starring at him. Beautiful, deep, liquid eyes full of pain and power.

    "This place is huge," she muttered under her breath and glanced up at the ceiling. It seemed to loom over her, dark and lifeless, filling her with fear. Enclosed inside a tomb where the walls were growing closer, she shook her head no. The beads clanked together. "No!" she screamed.

    The scream filled the empty expanse of the room and echoed back to her full of desperation and longing. A tomb! Butterfly dropped to the ground, wrapped her arms around her and rocked slowly back and forth. Her violet eyes grew wide and shot around the room looking for an exit. The walls closed in again and the child started into a fit of screaming.

    Cassidy dropped the bag startled and stood where he was by the closed door trying to figure out what was wrong with the small girl he had ushered into the house. He didn't know what to do. Never had he heard a child scream like that. Butterfly's screaming was full of panic almost as if she had seen death and was trying to drive him away.

    Then her screams stopped and she closed her mouth and glanced up at the lean, supple, blond woman coming down the spiral staircase. Butterfly tipped her head to the side, studying the woman. She had appeared like an angel and angels seemed to like more risqué clothes than Butterfly had ever imagined. The woman wore a tight, white leather bodysuit and boots that reached her thighs with a gentle white silk cloak billowing out behind her.

    Butterfly rose unsteadily from the ground and took a step forward toward the advancing figure of the woman. The woman regarded her coldly as Butterfly had imagined an angel would because, after all, she was only a useless little girl. "Are you an angel?" Butterfly whispered.

    The white woman laughed and said, "Of course not." Then she turned to Mr. Cassidy, brushing Butterfly off like a spot of dust on her cloak. "Where did you find this one, Sean?" she asked and there was deep contempt in her voice.

    Butterfly tilted her head to the side again. So, the white woman was not an angel, not even a nice person. She gazed around the room, careful not to notice the ceiling.

    "That's Butterfly, Emma," Cassidy informed the white woman and even though he whispered Butterfly heard him.

    "Butterfly? Is that a code name or her real name or..."

    "Both, Emma, both."

    "What an odd name. She's so pale, Sean, as if she's never seen the sun," Emma noted.

    Cassidy nodded and replied, "Aye, but she's no albino. Her hair's lavender and her eyes...Emma I've never seen anythin' akin to `em." His Irish accent cut his words into beautiful polished steel in Butterflys ears and she made a pleased sound in her throat.

    "Butterfly," the white woman said and Butterfly turned around. The white woman, Mr. Cassidy had called Emma, stared into the girls violet eyes. "Remarkable!" she commented turning back to Cassidy. "She's so young."

    "Aye, only a wee bit past a month since her twelfth birthday but she showed her powers before then."

    "That's odd."

    "Aye, `tis very odd, Emma. Her mother had theories but let's not talk about that now. She's hearin' every word," Cassidy said with a warm smile and Butterfly smiled back. He understood. Her smile, no matter how hard she tried, was always sorrowfully sad and Mr. Cassidy and Emma regarded the sad smile with concerned faces.

    "Look, a new student."

    "Golly. The color o' her hair."

    <It could always be dyed. Lots of that in England, sunshine.>

    "She's even younger than me!"

    "Another chica. Always the new student is a chica."

"Don't be crass, mon ami. She looks interesting."

    "Think she can hear us?"

    "Ah...I hope not."

    Butterfly gazed up at the collection of people trying to hide from view at the banister at the top of the spiral staircase. She smiled her sad smile again. Closing her eyes and lifting her head up, Butterfly felt the gossamer wings stretch out from her back. Felt them slide out of the wounds that had never healed and moved them a little to make sure they fine. She took a deep breath and flapped them gently, letting the momentum pull her, now weightless body, up into the air. Butterfly flew over to where the others were hiding and said quietly, "Hi."

    "You fly?" the black haired girl asked. Behind her sat six others, most of who looked quite shocked.

    "How do you fly?" one of them asked. He was large with brown eyes, skin and hair. Butterfly had seen people like him before. He was from the islands.

    "She probably flies just like M does," remarked a young black boy with a bald head.

    "How do you know, Everett?" a young black girl with long black hair shot at him.

    "I have wings," Butterfly whispered. All the eyes turned to stare at her again.

    "Ah...I can't see them. Where are they?" the blond with the doe blue eyes asked. She tried too hard to conceal her accent and it ended up leaking out anyway.

    The boy with the mental voice and the bandages wrapped around him studied Butterfly's floating form for a minute and then said, <I see `em.> He pointed a finger to the barley visible violet sparkle that shone around the edges of her wings.

    "I'll let you touch them if you want," Butterfly ventured. The blond held her hand out and then pulled it back. "Don't worry. You can't hurt them. They look very delicate but they're really strong." A slight, beautiful African accent tinged Butterfly's speech.

    "Where are you from, chica?" the ball of gray skin asked as the girls brushed their hands along her transparent wings. The boys seemed to be above it though the islander appeared to be interested.

    "I came here from Africa but I was born in Hungary," Butterfly told them as she floated away and rested her weightless form on the banister.

    <Whot's yuir name,> the mouthless boy asked. Butterfly glanced at his bright green eyes and reddish brown hair. She sensed a spirit that had been scarred too early but was not beyond repair. Much like Conner's, she thought.

    "Butterfly."

"That's a beautiful name," the blond said somewhat dreamily.

    "Fits you perfectly," the black boy, she thought they had called him Everett, commented.

    "Yeah. Perfectly," the black haired girl added somewhat scornfully.

    "Thanks," Butterfly said, blushing slightly. "What are your names?"

    "Oh. How positively rude of us," the black girl exclaimed. "I'm Monet St. Croix, codenamed M, powers..."

    "Bein' perfect," the black haired Asian girl cut in. "Hi. I'm Jubilation Lee, everyone calls me Jubilee, codename Jubilee, and I can make fireworks from my hands."

    "Paige Guthrie," the blond said with a smile. "Husk. Ah'm...I'm an metamorph."

    "A what?" Butterfly asked, creasing her brow.

    "Ah...I can husk off my outer skin to find a different form underneath. With time and practice Ah'll...I'll be able ta control what Ah...I become," Paige informed her.

"Oh," Butterfly murmured.

    "Everett Thomas, codenamed Synch, powers..uh well, I have an aura that gets "in synch" with any person's mutagenic signature and I can use their power for a limited amount of time," he said.

    Butterfly gave him a confused look.

    "Ev, the chica's twelve and she came here from Africa which probably means her parents or whatever were missionaries," the gray kid looked at her and Butterfly nodded. " So I doubt she knows big words like `mutagenic signature' and stuff like that. Simply, Ev. Put it simply."

    "Ok," Everett acknowledged as Butterfly mouthed "thank you" to the gray kid. "Simply, huh. Well I can recreate any mutant ability I can synchronize with. Like I can synch with Jub and use her fireworks or Paige and husk my skin."

    "It's so simple when you put it like that. I was always told that if I just knew what the words meant I could understand anything but the missionary schools weren't that good...I bet you all think I'm some dumb, little kid," Butterfly admitted lowering her eyes to the floor.

    Paige got up from her seat on the floor and walked over to the banister. She lifted Butterfly's chin up and looked her straight in the eyes. "Don't even think that. You've probably seen things Ah couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams. We'll just have to teach you, is all. Then you'll understand."

    "Thanks, Paige," Butterfly stated and hugged the blond girl.

    "My turn," the gray boy said standing as Paige eased herself up onto the banister besides Butterfly. Butterfly made sure to keep a hand on Paige's arm so the girl would be as weightless as she was. "I'm Angelo Espinosa, codenamed Skin, powers I have six extra feet of skin that I can manipulate."

    "What a wonderful power. You can reach out and just touch something and no one can stop you. You know like when you're staring up at the leaves when the sun comes through and paints a picture of dabbled sunlight and you're thinking, "I wish I could touch that beauty. Just reach up and touch the leaves and feel the sun shinning off of them." You can do that. You can do that," Butterfly marveled, her mouth open.

    Skin looked at her for a long moment and she smiled her sorrowful smile the whole time. He had never thought about his power that way before. He had always seen it as useless and stupid. He had never stopped to notice whether or not there was anything beautiful that could come of it. "Nah, chica, you're jus' being nice. It's a stupid power."

    Butterfly glanced at him and something burned in her eyes for a moment and then vanished. She shook her head and whispered, "No, it's not. You're just like Conner, that's all. That's all."

    The islander stood up as Skin sat down. "I am Mondo codenamed Mondo. I can absorb living mass and mimic it."

    "No last name?"

    "No last name, little Butterfly. Mondo is just Mondo."

"That's fine Mondo, after all I'm just Butterfly. You're from the islands, right?"

    The big, brown mass named Mondo turned to face her with pleasant surprise on his face. "Yes. Mondo is a Samoan. Has the little Butterfly visited my island?"

    "Not yours, Mondo but a lot of them."

    Mondo sat down and the boy with the deeply scarred soul and bandaged body stood up. He unwrapped the bandages and let the bluish flames burn in front of her eyes. Butterfly's deep, liquid, violet eyes widened as she studied the beauty in front of her. <Jonothon Starsmore,> his mental voice poured through her head. <Mates call me Jono, codenamed Chamber, powers well, gel, I don't know if you'd understand what this blue flame is...>

    Butterfly's eyes flicked up to meet his eyes and smiled. Gossamer tears had formed in the corners of her eyes. "There's no need to explain, Jono, I can call you Jono, right?-"

    <Of course.>

    "-because the flames already told me. It's a bio-blast thing, pure energy. It's potential is really unlimited."

    <You can talk to the flames,> he asked somewhat skeptically.

    "Not so much talk to them as understand them. They operate at some kind of low frequency telepathic hum. They don't affect high level telepaths because they just sound like static but to a lower class psi, who knows how to clear the static up, it's pretty clear," she remarked.

    "You're a low class psi, too," Everett asked. "What all can you do?"

    "Well," Butterfly started, running the hand that wasn't resting lightly on Paige's shoulder through her lavender hair. "I don't really know. I mean there's my wings, my low psi ability--I can't read your thoughts or anything I just hear things and know feelings--and Conner said something about fading in and out."

    "Who's this Conner you keep mentioning?" Jubilee inquired and went over to lean against the banister.

    "Conner's a friend I met in Africa whose parents are also missionaries. He's a mutant just like me. He's about sixteen. Conner can amplify any mutants power permanently, use it through a telepathic link he can establish, and teleport to the location of any mutant he's ever been linked to. He's the one who jump-started my powers and has helped me gain control."

    "So what else does he think you can do?" Monet asked. "You mentioned fading in and out. Could you explain?"

    "I can try," Butterfly confessed. "Conner says I can become insubstantial or intangible and at the same time be either visible or invisible."

    "The chica's full of surprises, huh?" Skin commented as he looked around at the faces of his friends. Everett, Paige, and Jubilee were visible shocked, Jono seemed surprised, Monet just tucked a lock of hair behind her ear at the thought that this child had more power at her disposal than she did and Mondo regarded the situation coolly.

    "She's also weightless when her wings are out and can make others that way also with a physical link," Cassidy said as he climbed the stairs.

    "Mr. Cassidy wha' else can she do?" Paige asked and sifted her weight slightly, still not realizing that at the moment she had none.

    "Tha's all."

    <Seems like a pretty long list, there gov'ner,> Jono commented.

    "It's all Conners fault. He did it. He said the majority of my powers would remain dormant, so he amplified them. Conner can be a jerk sometimes," Butterfly mumbled.

    "Hey M, looks like you're not perfect anymore. This girl has powers that could develop quite a bit more `cause she's still so young and the powers she does have at the moment are pretty impressive," Jubilee bragged in Monet's picture perfect face. "Plus she's really pretty, Monet. That long, fine lavender hair, the alabaster skin, and those deep violet eyes. You've met your match, girlfriend."

    Monet pushed some hair behind her ear and examined Butterfly. The girl was thin and small, definitely pretty, with a great range of powers, an innocence that made her even prettier and a great deal of time to develop further. Monet glared at the girl and thought to herself, "I wish she'd go away. Jubilee's right. Butterfly's perfect and I'm the reject."

    Butterfly looked up having caught the feeling of hate directed at her and glanced at Monet. "I'm sorry, Monet," she said.

    "There's nothing to be sorry about, Butterfly," Emma said as she came up the stairs carrying the black bag easily. "Monet will just have to learn to swallow her ego. Come along and I'll show you your room. You'd better get off the banister first, Paige."

    Paige eased herself off as Butterfly removed her hand. With her first step onto the ground Paige felt like she weighed a million pounds.

    Emma smiled as Paige groaned slightly and rubbed her legs. "Welcome to the feeling of weightlessness. Now you, Butterfly. I won't allow you to use your wings for everything."

    Butterfly looked down at the floor and whimpered. Her feet didn't even come close to touching the ground and Emma wanted her not to fly anymore. She whimpered again and Mondo came over offering her his hand. Butterfly took it and let the Samoanian help her to the ground. Then she folded her wings into her back.

    "Come along then," Emma said and Butterfly followed waving slightly to the rest of her class. It was obvious that every step hurt the girl and Cassidy shook his head.

    "Sir, why does Ms. Frost make her walk when it hurts her legs so?" Paige asked him in a whisper.

    He opened his mouth to answer when Emma said telepathically, <Because it's good for her.>

    Butterfly sat on the bed in the dorm room Emma had said was her's but it wasn't. Not really. She smoothed the light purple bedspread with a pale hand and kicked at the black bag sitting on the floor by her feet. Pain shot through her leg like hot pins and Butterfly winced. Walking was so difficult for her because of how weak her legs actually were.

    It's a nice room, she thought to herself. A little boring but all in all a nice room.

    Someone knocked lightly on her door. "Come in," Butterfly called and pulled her legs up onto the bed.

    "Hello. We really didn't get much of a chance to talk before and there are a few questions I need you to answer," the girl named Monet said as she walked into the room, closing the door behind her.

    "Hello, Monet, I didn't expect to see you," Butterfly said.

    "Whyever not?" the tall, thin, black girl laughed. Butterfly gazed up at her.

    Monet's hair was long, it was the shiny black of the darkest night in Africa. Her dark brown eyes glowed with an inner vigor that permeated into the rest of her being. Monet's being, like her eyes, glowed with that fire. What was odd was that she glowed with two fire-auras and gave off two distinct telepathic hums. Butterfly merely shrugged it off.

    "Well, you just seemed so...distant," she confused lowering her eyes.

    "Oh. I was thinking about something else. An assignment is due and I haven't started on it yet. That's all," Monet murmured looking away from the small form of the huddled girl on the bed. That's right, Monet, lie your little head off, something inside her taunted.

    Monet shook the little voice away and glanced around the room. It was boring, so far. A plain little room, with white walls, built in bookcases, furniture painted lavender and purple and a simple ceiling. To Monet's surprise, however, when she looked up there wasn't a perfect little, white ceiling. In place of the ceiling was a closed skylight.

    Why does she have that? Monet wondered to herself.

    Butterfly, huddled on her bed, looked up at the brush of confusion across her telepathic walls and saw Monet gazing at the skylight. "Mrs. Frost had the idea that my claustrophobia wouldn't be as bad if my room didn't have a ceiling. I think it helps. Really, it does," she said.

    Monet looked at her and smiled weakly. "I'm sure it does. I'm sure."

    "Monet?"

    "What, Butterfly?"

    "Why are you here?"

    "Because I didn't get the chance to properly introduce myself. I have the powers of flight, super strength, a vast intelligence and psionic abilities," Monet stated with a slight smiled.

    Butterfly frowned, "That's all?"

    The older girl turned to the door then looked back at Butterfly. She smiled a dazzling smile. "That and the fact that I'm the perfect student in this school. You take one wrong step, you make one too many friends, you get too much praise and I'll squash you like a bug. Bye, Butterfly. Oh and I hope you enjoy your stay here." With that Monet smiled again and left the room, slamming the door behind her.