[center][img=http://i57.tinypic.com/2nau3b8.jpg]
A car's breaks screeched in protest as its gruff driver stuck his head through the window and muttered a strand of curses in Alison Blaire's direction. The teenage girl looked up from a leather notebook she held delicately in her hands and furrowed her brows at the man. 

"It's called a cross-walk for a reason, asshole!"

Ali placed a hand across her lips as the foul word escaped her mouth and shook her head while rushing to the other side of the street. She began to think about what her father would say if he had witnessed the event. [i]Alison Blaire, is that the image you want to portray for yourself in society?[/i] or [i]No daughter of mine would stoop to using such hoodlum slang.[/i] Mr. Blaire was a stern parent with a very particular set of values and expectations for his only daughter. Her frequent trips to the Institute were definitely not something Carter would smile upon. Then again, Ali hadn't been completely honest with her father since the first night she had truly experienced herself. 

[i]Ali smiled at her high school friends from a crudely decorated stage. Bright lights glimmered around the small gymnasium and couples held each other awkwardly while swaying side to side. A small band accompanied the girl and played out a steady jazz rhythm. Ali held a copper microphone stand in both hands and hummed a soothing melody that echoed throughout the room. 

Her grandmother had fashioned her a nice red cocktail dress for the occasion with the best material she could find in town. Ali's smile shone brighter than the red fibers of her dress as she belted the final note in unison with the saxophonist. All eyes turned to the stage and cheered jubilantly as Ali bowed slightly. Her entire body surged with excitement and warmth as her outstretched hands opened to the crowd. In that moment of pure bliss, Ali's hands erupted with blinding light. 

The cheerful atmosphere soon turned to chaos as screams of agony pulsated through the air. Ali stood still, the shock of the situation apparent on her young face, and dropped the microphone stand to the ground. Everyone in the gymnasium was fumbling around in panic, completely blinded by the aura emitted from Ali's hands. Alison held her ears to block out the moaning and raced towards the fire doors. Cold air and the sound of the fire alarms rushed into the air as the terrified girl fled the scene without another note.[/i] 

Alison shoved her hands and the leather notebook into the pockets of her navy coat and continued along the busted sidewalk towards Xavier's mansion. The sounds and smells of New York City were drowned out by Ali's buzzing thoughts. Charles had spoken with her about the "others", but Alison was unsure of what to expect from these mutants. She clenched her fists tightly in her pockets and blinked hard as uncomfortable images began seeping into her subconscious.

Before Ali knew it, she was staring up at the Institute's high, faded walls. She took a deep breath and tucked a stray strawberry blonde curl behind her ear before cautiously pushing open the door and stepping inside silently.[/center]