Principal Darkholme stood at her window and watched the students beyond mingling in the brief interim between classes. Becky Drape and Danny Smith were committing some serious PDA against the row of lockers next to the girl's bathroom on the other end of the courtyard. Something she was sure Becky's best friend and Danny's girlfriend, Grace, was unaware the two got up to around this time every day.
A couple of the football boys were working on homework together on one of the benches, and a kid dressed in a thick flannel jacket with a backpack studded with anime pins poked at their papers like a teacher would with the back of a mechanical pencil. She hoped Richie would take up her advice and consider a teaching career after high school, but the boy was determined to follow in his father's footsteps and become a plumber. The boy should ultimately follow his dreams, but she couldn't help but to feel the overbearing Mr. Javonaski may have had a little too much of a helping hand in suggesting that particular career path.
She really should get back to work. She wasn't sure what she expected running a school, but the reports never seemed to get done efficiently enough and she had at least one parent or another riding or about some damn flare-up that Chemistry teacher Morgan had.
Besides, sitting behind her desk had never been her thing. Before now, she wasn't even sure she ever even had a desk job. It would take her some time to read through a few journals to be sure, but she could at least hazard a guess she's never been as dedicated to one such as this. The field is where she belonged. Still, she would be lying if she said the little squirts out there hadn't charmed her at least a little.
A knock at the door pulled Darkholme out of her daze. She turned her head, her body still facing the open window. "Who is it?" She asked more in the form of a statement than a question.
There was a second knock, a pause, then two knocks close together.
She tilted her head to one side, waited for a crack, then the other. "Enter."
The door opened and Charles Xavier wheeled into her office with that whiny little electric wheelchair of his. She must have been off her game, normally she can hear that crappy thing a mile away.
He closed the door behind her and wheeled into the space between the two chairs facing her desk. "Miss Darkholme."
She didn't turn to acknowledge the man. "Charles."
She heard a flipping of papers behind her before something slid onto her desk. At this, she finally turned and eyed a thick manila folder now resting between her cup of pens and computer monitor. She pulled a key free from a chain around her wrist, unlocked a drawer on her desk, and produce a file of her own. Her hand hovering a good foot over her desk, she let the file fall and make an audible plop sound on the tabletop.
"This could be handled through email, you know."
Xavier gently pulled her file off the table and flipped it open to the first page. "No. Emails and online messages leave paper trails."
"And paper doesn't?"
Xavier looked up at her and gave her flashed her a cockeyed smile. "Not like it used to."
Darkholme pulled Xavier's file from the top of her desk and felt the papers bend in the middle from their weight. "You sharing the draft of your life story with me now?" She flipped open the file cover to the first stapled page. It all looked typical on the surface at least. Anna's grades were average, though she could have found that out herself, and she had apparently found a new interest in History. No doubt thanks to McCoy. The man could charm the fangs out of a snake.
She turned toward the window to get better light and continued flipping. "Why have you included information on Wagner in here?"
Charles had already started backing up and was fixing to head for the door. "Because Anna isn't the only one of yours under my care." He paused. "I thought you deserved to know."
Darkholme's head jerked in his direction as if she were slapped. "What?"
Xavier didn't meet her eyes. "Like Anna, he's exceptional. You should be proud." Xavier completed his three-point turn and rested his hand on the door nob. "Until next time, Miss Darkholme." He opened the door and shut it gently behind him.
Darkholme skimmed through the packet of information all the while shaking her head. Then the file dropped from her hands and smashed into so many loose papers on the floor at her feet. She looked back out the window and spotted the table where they sat. Walking down out of the East building with interlinked arms was Kurt and that Evan boy. His mound of curly blue hair bobbed as he walked and the sun caught his smile.
Darkholme put her hand on the window, and when the cool of the outside chilled the flesh of her palm, it took the rest of her body with it. She whispered "Kurt…"