[b]Spencer[/b]

[i]Today will be simple[/i], she wrote, biting the bottom of her lip. [i]Just don’t fuck up and everything will be okay. No one will get hurt, I won’t get stared at, and I’ll get to see some pretty cool artifacts[/i]. Spencer knew this wasn’t at all accurate, as people would look no matter if she exposed her abilities. They always glanced over her way, regardless of what was happening. She etched out the staring portion and in the midst of doing so, found herself scrawling all over the page, leaving no words to be visible. Spencer ripped the page out of her journal resentfully and wadded it into a ball, throwing it lightly to her side where it grazed the trashcan but didn’t make it in. 

This day especially, was going to be awful. Today meant confrontation and small talk, two things that she was awful at. She was going to be closed in by four walls with hundreds of other people looking at historical objects that she didn’t give a shit about. She wondered if it was too late to opt out of this. 

It was. 

Spencer and the others piled into a bus, along with several faculty members that would be supervising them all throughout the tour. She scoffed, her face pressed against the cool window. [i]I’m not a fucking child[/i], she thought bitterly, [i]I can handle myself[/i]. If only that were so. She knew that they weren’t really there to watch them closely so that they wouldn’t touch anything, but more so if anything happened regarding their abilities, they would be there to help. After all, they’d had years of practice with the oh-so infamous Charles Xavier who'd started this whole organization in the first place. Some of them, anyway. 

The car ride wasn’t at all long, but Spencer was asleep by the time they arrived. Someone – she wasn’t sure who, exactly – nudged her shoulder, causing her to jerk awake to the sight of a large, white building that must have been the museum. To her dismay, it was packed, just as she’d predicted. She’d hoped that maybe they would be the only ones there, but even then, that was likely to draw more attention than if there were wandering people all around. 

Curling her fingers into tight fists, Spencer wearily tuned in on the information being given by the headmistress, Mrs. Pryde. Spencer's eyes flickered slightly at the mentioning of her name in a group with two other people and Professor Vaughn as their guide. She rather liked Professor Vaughn. Not only for her looks, but also for the subjects she taught. Spencer had always adored English with a passion other students in her school clearly didn’t have. She understood it better than most did, and with that, there had always been a pressing thought that if her past hadn’t occurred the way it did – would there have been a chance she’d been able to pursue the career of being a teacher? 

Spencer thought it was unlikely. She wasn’t much of a speaker. She also didn’t have much experience with teens other than herself, and if she was correct, most teenagers didn’t act the same way she did. Nor had they had a past like she did. 

Shaking those thoughts away, Spencer shuffled behind her group, her head swaying in every direction. She couldn’t get enough of this museum. There was so much to see in such little time. Every step she took, she knew she’d missed something, but couldn’t bring herself to stop and actually [i]look[/i]. Her group was moving too fast for that. Spencer couldn't keep up. 

Taking in a sharp breath, Spencer muttered that she was going to the bathroom (if anyone had even heard her) and bolted to where they’d entered. Where the hell were the signs for the restrooms? [i]Goddammit, why is this so fucking hard?[/i] She thought, displeased by the lack of signs that indicated where everything was. 

Deciding to randomly select a direction, Spencer practically sprinted to the end of the hall. Veering a sharp left, she finally located the restrooms, and aimed for the women’s restroom. Had she known any better, she would have thought to use the men’s restroom. At least then, she wouldn’t have gotten judged so harshly. Spencer had just grabbed ahold of the handle when she knew something wasn’t right. 

It started off as a rumble. It was low enough for her to assume that it was construction on a new project, but in seconds, it spread upward and then all at once, the sides came crashing in. “Get down!” she shrilled. Spencer found a straggling person and laced her arms around their frame, wrenching them to the ground with all of her force. Debris hit her back and she thought she felt a shard scrape her cheek, but she held still, using her arms to shield the other girl’s face. 

Finally, after what had felt like years, everything settled. There was silence and then someone was asking if they were all okay. It was a girl from school – Mila, she thought her name was. Swallowing thickly, Spencer reluctantly released the girl, landing backward on a painting that had fallen. “Ouch,” Spencer grumbled. She craned her head to see Mila, now standing and totally unharmed. Spencer scrambled to her feet as well and brushed herself off, taking in account for everyone that was here. All of them appeared to be alive. 

Crouching to the girl still on the floor, Spencer frowned. “Are you alright?”