Storm, page 27
“Something’s coming,” I mutter, focusing on the sky. Taking a deep breath and tapping into that thrumming pulse, calling in the energy of the wind. I feel my eyes change to white orbs. In an instant, dark clouds roll in, a fog shielding the village.
“Rain,” I command, and the clouds gather closer. I’m letting lightning build in my hands when I hear a voice in my head that I haven’t heard in years.
Ororo, I’m just here to talk.
I gasp and lose hold of the building clouds. They evaporate as a glimmering silver ship pierces through the fog, hovering low in the sky.
“What is that?” Ainet says behind me as the villagers scatter into their huts, others grabbing weapons, prepared to fight.
The ship lands near the far field, cows crying in response to the disturbance. It’s twice the size of planes I’ve seen before. I hold my hands out, letting the lightning crackle in my palm and stand at the ready. This could be a trick.
The back hatch of the plane opens and a mechanical ramp lowers. A chrome wheelchair glides down the ramp as if skating on ice, and the sight of the sun hitting his head makes my mouth drop.
It’s really him….
His chair hums as it rolls in our direction over pebbles and patches of grass, parking right in front of me.
“It is very good to see you again, Ororo,” the man says. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
Too stunned to speak, I dig into my pocket and retrieve his wallet, fumbling to pull out his ID, just to make sure.
“Professor Xavier?”
* * *
Inside Ainet’s hut, we sip on water as the villagers crowd around. The hum of their excited chatter bleeds in through the walls.
Meanwhile, I can’t stop staring at him. He looks exactly as I remember. Pale skin, intense blue eyes, bald head, and a pleasant, knowing smile. Feels like I’m nine years old again, being in his presence.
“You use a chair now.” I can’t help but state the obvious. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” he says, straightening his red tie.
“How did you find us?” Ainet asks, her voice a little detached. Almost cool.
Professor Xavier gives her a warm smile.
“Years ago, I took a trip to Egypt, thinking I would do some exploring, when I ran into a young girl with white hair sticking out of a scarf, who was trying to procure my wallet.”
He waves the worn leather, and Ainet gives me a pointed look. I grimace.
“I’m…sorry about that,” I mumble.
He holds up a hand. “Water under the bridge. Anyway, as we spoke, I could sense a strange presence nearby. A dangerous presence. It’s why I sent you away so quickly. He clearly sensed something in you the same way I did.” He brings his hands together, steepling his fingertips. “He was hunting you. He had been hunting you from the moment you two met at your school gate.”
Memories come flooding in, jabbing my chest, stealing my breath.
“I remember that day. I wouldn’t look at him,” I gasp, clutching my stomach. “I felt violently ill.”
The professor nods. “Though your powers may not have manifested until now, your keen instincts were always there.”
Even my mother’s instincts sensed his poison. She was trying to protect me, even then.
The professor folds his hands. “That day, in the bar, I killed the Shadow King, banishing him to the Astral Plane. But somehow, he found his way back.”
“A girl named Zawadi opened up a portal in the rocks,” I explain. “That’s how he came back. She didn’t know what she was doing with her…powers.”
“Yes, Zawadi.” He says the name with reverence. “She is a mutant as well.”
“A mutant? What’s that?”
“A mutant is a person like you and me, born with a specific genetic makeup, an X gene, that gives us certain unexplainable capabilities.” He sighs. “I’m afraid you are not quite the rain goddess this village has made you out to be.”
Ainet shifts in her chair. It’s slight, but I notice.
Hope squeezes at my heart hard. “There are others…like me?”
He smiles widely. “No one is exactly like you. But there are many others who have the mutant gene. We are making efforts to keep track of us all around the world.”
“Why?”
He leans back. “After that day in the bar, I realized how dangerous mutant powers could be if they fall into the wrong hands. When we battled in the Astral Plane, I saw the Shadow King’s intentions. If he were able to manipulate you, he could possess you, kill thousands of people. I knew he needed to be stopped at once.” His brow furrows as he continues. “But there are also others, like the Shadow King, who want to use mutants for their abilities.”
I swallow, remembering how the Shadow King made Zawadi slap herself, the manic look in her eyes back in Caribou.
The professor continues. “Which actually brings me to the reason I’m here. That moment with the Shadow King inspired me to start a school, in the hopes that humans and mutants can learn to live in harmony.” He tips his head toward me. “The school is for individuals such as yourself. We help train and educate students on their unique capabilities.”
My mind whirls, trying to process it all. I’ve feared going back to school for years, unwilling to relive the torment. But a school for people like me, a school where I’m not the only one who is different…can there really be such a place?
“You know more than anyone how cruel school can be for people like us. That is why I need your help. To not only protect your fellow mutants, but to protect us all from any evil that tries to destroy humanity.” He nods to Ainet graciously. “I’m sure you’ve done a lot of training here with Ainet. But at our school, you’ll have the opportunity to learn even more. You’ll be able to talk to scientists and meteorologists who can help you better understand your powers and use them in different ways.”
I rub my thumb into my palm, turning the prospect over in my head. It all sounds so promising.
But I look at Ainet, whose face has not changed since Professor Xavier arrived. It’s not like her to have nothing to say.
“I’d like to talk to Ainet alone if you don’t mind,” I say, nodding at the door.
Ainet’s brows pinch, lips set in a tight line.
Professor Xavier smiles. “Of course. I’ll be at the ship. Take all the time you need.”
He rolls out of the hut, leaving us staring after him, overwhelmed by all he dropped into our laps.
I take an uneasy breath. “Well. What do you think?”
Ainet stares at his empty space for a long moment, her shoulders rigid. She turns to me with a tight expression.
“Never let anyone belittle your greatness,” she says sharply, index finger stabbing the air. “Who is this little white man to tell you whether you are a goddess or not!”
I snort. “Ainet…”
“And how dare he just fly in without warning like some church missionary, telling you who you are, what to believe in, and what you must do? As if you needed his help defeating the Shadow Man when he couldn’t do it properly the first time!”
“Ainet.” I laugh, shifting my stool closer to her.
“He is mistaken. You are not a mutant. You are from a long line of goddesses! Let no one tell you otherwise.”
I sigh with a giggle. “Yes. I know, Ainet.”
She straightens with a huff. “Oh. Well. Then what are you worried about?”
“I am not worried at all. I just wanted a moment alone with you to say thank you.”
She cocks her head back. “Eh, eh! Whatever for?”
“For helping me find my home.”
“What?”
I take her hand in mine. “I feel more at home in my own skin here than in any other place I’ve ever been. My family has always been with me, just like you said. But I’ve been so worried about finding them and not worried enough about finding me. Without you, I would have never realized just how powerful I am. So powerful that even some American man needs my assistance.”
Ainet’s face softens.
“Goddesses have always helped mortals, despite themselves,” I continue. “So maybe this is a part of my destiny, to help these mutants. Maybe this is the ‘something much bigger’ my family has been hinting at all this time. It’s about time I start listening and not being afraid of what is meant for me.”
She pauses, her eyes raking over me, before a big smile takes over her entire face. She brushes a strand of my hair back and cups my cheek.
“Yes. That is exactly it.”
* * *
I change back into my harem pants and T-shirt, packing the few items I own—a scarf, the blue dress, my beetle earrings, the comb, and a beaded necklace Ainet made me. I finger-comb my hair to fluff up my curls. My hair, which hangs down to my butt, is thick and voluminous. No more braids, no more scarves, no more hiding.
The villagers walk me to the ship, dancing and chanting behind me. I hug them all, promising to visit when I can. I save Ainet for last.
“Make sure someone takes my hut,” I say.
She waves her hand. “No, no. We will save it for you. For when you return.”
I glance back at my hut, the humble home that felt warmer, safer than any place I’ve been since my parents died.
“Thank you for saving me,” I whisper.
Ainet’s eyes fill with tears. “Remember everything I ever told you, girl.”
I laugh. “No pressure.”
She gives a reassuring smile and pushes me toward the ship. My knees falter as I get closer. A plane, the very thing that pivoted my life in this direction.
My stomach clenches. Last time I boarded a plane was with Mommy and Daddy. Now I’m setting out on a whole new adventure. I grip the railing, trembling.
“Breathe,” I tell myself, and take the steps up one at a time. At the top, I wave at Ainet as the door slowly closes.
Inside, the ship is sleek and state-of-the-art, full of more computers and fancy technology than I’ve ever seen. My eyes widen as I take it all in.
T’Challa would love this.
Behind me, someone clears his throat, and I turn around to a young boy with dark turquoise skin, jet-black hair, pointy ears, and yellow eyes. He motions to the empty seat next to him.
“Hi!” he squeaks.
Another mutant. Like me, but not.
Too nervous to speak, I nod and plop down beside him, fumbling with the seat belt. He leans over and snaps me in.
“It’s kind of tricky,” he says, his lizard tongue clicking.
I trace the X symbol in the middle of the belt with my pinkie. The engine purring beneath us hiccups; wheels retract. I grip both seat arms, swallowing hard.
The boy grins, his fangs showing. “Afraid of heights?”
I think on it, my nerves easing. I’m not afraid of heights. Whenever I fall, I can always catch myself.
I shake my head. “I haven’t been on a plane in a very long time.”
“Oh! Well, it’s not that bad once you get used to it,” he says. “Professor said you can fly. Is that true?”
I blink a few times. “Yes.”
His long tail flicks up. “Sweet! My name is Nightcrawler. What’s yours?”
Again, I note his hue and glossy jet-black hair. That is not his real name, the name his family gave him. It’s one he must have chosen for himself, a name that represents who he is. I look out the window at the villagers watching and waving as the ship rises higher. In the crowd, I spot Ainet’s red robe dancing in the wind. She is not waving, just smiling proudly.
No one can change a storm’s path. Only the storm can do that for itself. A storm, like you, can never be controlled. Because a storm has a destiny.
“Storm,” I mumble, pressing a hand to the window. “My name is Storm.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Let’s give a round of applause to my outstanding, patient editor, Tricia Lin. I literally could not have written this without you and have learned so much about fantasy. Thank you, Tricia, for being so understanding and trusting me with this story. You deserve all the praise. Thanks to MARVEL for giving me this amazing opportunity. I’m still speechless.
To all my tour guides in Cairo, Luxor, and Nairobi, I know I bothered you with my weird questions, but thanks for helping me make Ororo’s world come alive!
After experiencing a slew of health issues over the last two years, I want to thank my doctors for patching me together. I do NOT thank my pain-in-the-butt health insurance.
Much love to my family, friends, agents, and readers for holding me down and sending much-needed light.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tiffany D. Jackson is the New York Times bestselling, award-winning author of YA novels Monday’s Not Coming, Allegedly, Let Me Hear A Rhyme, Grown, White Smoke, Santa in The City, The Weight of Blood, and co-author of Blackout and Whiteout: A Novel. A Coretta Scott King - John Steptoe New Talent Award-winner and the NAACP Image Award-nominee, she received her bachelor of arts in film from Howard University and has over a decade in TV/Film experience. The Brooklyn native is currently splitting her time between the borough she loves and the south, most likely multitasking.
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Tiffany D. Jackson, Storm
