First Team

by Robbie MacNiven

  “Sorry about all the fuss,” he said, placing the overloaded plate on the desk beside him. “For the record, it was your mother’s idea.”

  “I enjoyed it,” Vic said diplomatically, swinging his legs over so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m amazed you managed to get everyone together at such short notice.”

  “Well, you know how your mother is when she puts her mind to something,” Dan exclaimed. “The phone hasn’t been back on the hook for the last forty-eight hours. She was ringing half the town.”

  “Only half?” Vic teased.

  “I phoned the other half,” Dan admitted. “So, what’s it like being home? Is it all how you remember it?”

  “Freakishly so,” Vic said, looking around the room again. “Did you deliberately get all my old stuff out again? It looks like I haven’t been away at all.”

  “We might have brought a few things down from the loft,” Dan said. “Didn’t want you to come home and find out we’d turned your old bedroom into another old electronics garage.”

  Vic wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not, but it made him smile. Martha waged a perpetual war with her husband over the amount of overspill from his store in town. Besides the clutter, what seemed to distress Martha most was the fact Dan didn’t theme the placement of his products in the house – a trio of spare washing machines filling up the living room, big boxes of TV screens in the kitchen, plastic-wrapped spools of cabling scattered across the front hallway. Vic had noted the absence of electrical detritus when he’d entered the house, and he suspected Martha had used his return and the neighborhood BBQ as an excuse to mount a crusade on what she called “Dan’s wiry stuff.”

  “It certainly makes a change from the Institute,” Vic said, patting the side of his bed. “I’d almost gotten used to how uncomfortable the beds are there. This week away is going to ruin me.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Dan asked with a flash of concern. “I mean, I know you can’t talk about it too much. Don’t want Ms Frost turning up at my door accusing me of defamation. If your mother finds out she’d drive right up to Alberta today and break down the front door, then take the staff bed shopping.”

  They both laughed, Vic shaking his head.

  “I don’t mind any of it. I just… needed a break. Everything seemed to be piling up, you know?”

  “I think so,” Dan said carefully, looking closely at Vic. He had suspected his dad hadn’t come upstairs just to try and offload spare BBQ.

  “You know, we first sent you to the Institute for your own safety,” Dan went on, his tone measured now. Vic put on a faux surprised expression.

  “There was me thinking it was because I’m a talented young mutant with the capacity to do some good in the world,” he replied, only half joking. Dan smiled, though his expression had grown more uncertain.

  “Of course that’s true. But the Institute offered you a lot that we couldn’t, no matter how hard we tried. And that included protection. The world out there, it isn’t always understanding, and it’s very rarely fair.”

  “I know, Dad,” Vic interrupted. “I’ve heard it all before. Some people don’t like mutants. I get it. Anyone watching the news recently gets it too.”

  “This isn’t anything new,” Dan pointed out. “These zealots, the Purifiers, they’re just the latest ones who can’t accept that not everybody is like them. The last time something like this happened… well, that’s when your mother and I agreed that the Institute was the best place for you.”

  “And that makes me one of the lucky ones,” Vic replied. “I’ve discovered over the past few years that there’s a lot of people like me who’re less fortunate. Including a lot who don’t have the good luck to get into the New Charles Xavier School for Mutants. What would you have done if I hadn’t been accepted? How safe would I be if I still lived in Fairbury? I saw plenty of Purifier symbols on the way here.”

  “They haven’t come here yet,” Dan said. “And they won’t be welcome if they do.”

  “Really? There’s nobody in the town who doesn’t sympathize with them?”

  “No more than a couple.”

  “And I bet I know who they are. Seemed like more than a couple walking here from the bus stop though.”

  Dan gave him a sharp look.

  “Did someone give you trouble?” he demanded. “Tell me who and I’ll–”

  “There was no trouble, Dad,” Vic said, getting exasperated. “Just dirty looks. But that’s how it always starts. When the Purifiers do come, you’ll be surprised how many stand with them and not against them.”

  “Then they’ll have your mother and me to contend with,” Dan said firmly. “And a few more good people besides. This is your home, Vic, and that’ll always be the case.”

  “I know,” Vic said, quieter now. “Being away made me realize that.”

  “You came back because you were missing home?”

  “I came back because I realized how much home meant. How much you’d both given me over the years, despite the challenges you must have faced. All your hard work and sacrifice, and I disappear off to the Institute one day and only see you for parents’ evenings.”

  “That’s just part of growing up,” Dan said. “It’s what every parent goes through. We’ve been doing OK. We’re here for each other, and the neighborhood is always here for both of us. Martha’s a church elder now and I’ve been looking to expand the business again.”

  “I’m sure Mom will be delighted with the extra stock,” Vic said, deadpan.

  Dan chuckled and shook his head. “It won’t last more than a week, I’ve promised her! I promise!”

  “What, you think I’ll be taking it back to the Institute with me?”

  They both laughed, though as the humor died the tension lingered. Dan spoke again after a short silence.

  “If your time at the school is proving difficult, you can always talk to us. If it’s your studies, or the other kids, or the teachers–”

  “It’s not,” Vic said.

  “But things were piling up,” Dan pointed out.

  “I mean, I don’t know,” Vic replied, doing his best to articulate the difficulties of the past few months. “Some of the exams were tough. Two of my friends were planning on a road trip after they were finished, but I’m worried I might have to stay behind to retake them.”

  “Which friends?” Dan asked. “That roommate of yours? The big rocky one?”

  “Cipher and Graymalkin,” Vic replied. “You met them both briefly last time you and Mom visited.”

  “I remember,” Dan said. “The one who could turn invisible and the one whose powers come out in the dark?”

  “You could say that,” Vic said, the joke going straight over his dad’s head.

  “They seemed nice,” Dan went on. “And if you have to retake the test, well, perhaps you can appeal the first outcome? They do that if the grade is close to passing, right?”

  “Yeah,” Vic admitted, lying back in his bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, struggling with his thoughts. He was worried about his exams, that much was true, but it wasn’t the only thing. He’d been edging around it, not wanting to admit it. Afraid it would add another burden.

  “I’ve been worried about home,” he said eventually. “About you and Mom. What with everything that’s going on, I was afraid Fairbury would get caught up in it all. The more I thought about that, the worse it got.”

  “You came home to protect us?” Dan asked with a look of realization. “To check we’re OK in all this?”

  “I guess. I didn’t really think of it like that, I just wanted to make sure everything was fine. And it really looks like it is. But how can I be sure it’ll stay that way?”

  Dan frowned, his expression growing stern. Vic knew that look. He was about to get a lecturing.

  “Now listen to me, Victor,�
� Dan said, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “I appreciate your concern. I understand that you’re an adult now, and practically an X-Man as well. But your mother and I were looking after you in this very house from day one. We couldn’t have done that if we didn’t know how to protect ourselves as well.”

  Vic opened his mouth to interject, but Dan kept going.

  “You don’t need to worry about us. Your mother would be distraught if she thought your grades were suffering because you were concerned about how we were doing. I told you that these troubles aren’t anything new, and I mean it. When you were born there were mobs out on the street. Sentinels hunting people like animals. The government was a lot less affirming about mutants than they are today. But we didn’t let that change how we raised you. We did it openly. We weren’t going to force you to deny what you were. And thank God, we were able to do so in peace. Maybe that was just because of where we live. Maybe you were overlooked out here in the country. But we never hid, and we won’t now.”

  Vic was quiet, taking in his dad’s words. They stung, because they confirmed in part what he’d been afraid of. Even unintentionally, he’d brought trouble to his parents and his neighborhood. He wondered how many nights they’d lost worrying about what was happening around them, the strain of having to stay constantly vigilant against the threats and prejudices of others.

  “It must’ve been hard,” he said. “Giving me a childhood so many other kids like me never had.”

  “It was nothing but a pleasure, son,” Dan said, his smile returning. “We wouldn’t do a thing differently.”

  He was quiet for a moment more before lifting up the plate and its contents.

  “So, you’re sure you don’t want any of this?” he asked, performing that effortlessly awkward pivot only fathers seemed capable of. Vic laughed and shook his head.

  “Throw it to Angus. It’s probably better than the pizza slices Mr McTeal give him.”

  “Well, if you do need anything, you know where to find us,” Dan said, rising and pausing at the door. “It’s good to have you back, Vic.”

  “I know, Dad,” Vic replied. “And it’s good to be back.”

  Chapter Six

  That night, Vic slept soundly for the first time in months. He woke the next morning to the smell of pancakes and the sight of sunlight streaming in under the bedroom curtains.

  For a second it was summer break, and he was twelve again, ready to race downstairs, grab a pancake and head out into the yard to play with the neighborhood kids or McTeal’s puppy. He lay still and quiet, savoring the nostalgia. A sunny day with nowhere to go and nothing that needed to be done. It felt like a long time since he’d enjoyed one of those.

  He got up, showered, and dressed in loose jeans and an old Cry Havoc hoodie he’d picked out of his wardrobe. Then, after opening the curtains to gaze out over the backyard, he headed downstairs to the kitchen.

  Martha was preparing stacks of pancakes at the kitchen island, while Dan was sitting at the table with his newspaper, a mug of coffee and a few slices of toast his only concession to breakfast – the family had always taken polar opposite views on the first meal of the day, Vic’s father preferring to eat light while his mother swore by something hearty to start out with. Vic had always erred towards Martha’s preferences. Dan lowered his paper as Vic entered, feigning shock as he saw him.

  “Didn’t expect you to appear before I headed into town,” he exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you actually get out of bed before midday while you’re at the Institute?”

  “Only when someone makes it worth my while,” Vic teased, sidling up to the kitchen island. “Someone like you, Mom.”

  “I thought you were a much better flatterer than that, Victor,” she tsked, sliding a triple-stack over to him. She was a short woman, fair-haired and quick to laughter, with soft blue eyes that Vic counted as his luckiest inheritance. At college she had been the girl every guy on the football team had wanted to date, but she’d never had time for anyone other than the skinny, quiet kid she sat next to in her business lectures. They’d gotten married not long after graduating, taking on their dream to move further west together. Vic had come into their lives not long after.

  “Syrup’s in the cupboard,” she said, shooing Vic and his plate away with a spatula. “And remember to wipe your fingers after! I don’t want sticky paws all over my fresh tablecloth!”

  “Lizards don’t have paws,” Vic said as he fetched the syrup and sat down opposite his dad. It was a little family in-joke, a phrase they’d been repeating since he’d first uttered it as kid. He’d totally forgotten about it until now, but the response had come naturally. He caught Dan smirking behind his newspaper.

  “So, how was it sleeping in your old bed?” Martha asked as she bustled past with her own plate, doubling back to the sink to steep the frying pan.

  “A lot better than sleeping in the Institute, that’s for sure,” Vic admitted as he began to drizzle syrup over his stack. “Just having a window and sunshine in the morning makes a difference.”

  “Isn’t it strange not having a roommate?” Martha continued, taking her own seat at the table. Vic shrugged as he began to eat.

  “I haven’t shared my dorm since last semester. Rocky graduated, and they haven’t found a replacement yet.”

  “Maybe one of your friends can move in,” Martha said. “Like that nice, quiet boy we met at parents’ night. Graymalkin?”

  “He already has a room,” Vic said. “And besides, he has to sleep alone. He’s partly nocturnal, and when he does sleep he has nightmares.”

  “Oh, how terrible,” Martha said, looking aghast.

  Vic nodded. “He… had a tough upbringing. We all help him through it, though. He’s come a long way in the time he’s been at the Institute.”

  “Maybe your friends could come and visit us out here someday,” Martha said, daintily beginning to carve up her pancake stack with her knife and fork. “I’m sure Dan wouldn’t mind moving his office out of the spare room for a few days.”

  Dan shot her a look over the top of his newspaper, then cleared his throat in an effort to cover it up.

  “I’m sure we could find the space,” he said magnanimously. “Didn’t you say yesterday you were thinking of going on a road trip with your friends this summer?”

  “If I pass my exams,” Vic said, busily wolfing down his stack. “We were thinking about going down the Rockies.”

  “Your father and I used to go on road trips every summer after we graduated,” Martha said, smiling with reminiscent fondness. “Usually down to Colorado or through California. Those were some wonderful times.”

  “Why don’t you go on one again?” Vic asked in between mouthfuls. Martha looked at Dan, who studiously avoided eye contact.

  “Perhaps we will when work clears up,” he said, still reading his paper.

  “We’ve been saying that for, oh, half a decade?” Martha said with a knowing smile. “But maybe if you start doing it, Vic, we’ll finally find the time. Can’t stay in Fairbury forever.”

  Dan just grunted and took another sip of coffee, refusing to be drawn. Vic finished up his stack.

  “I’m going to go out back for a while,” he said, scraping back his chair and starting to rise.

  “Fingers,” Martha warned dangerously. Vic looked down at his hands and realized he had indeed got syrup on them. Huffing, he went over to the sink and washed them as Martha continued to speak.

  “Are you going to visit your old treehouse?”

  “That was the plan,” Vic said, wringing his hands out. “Assuming it’s still there!”

  “As of last month, it was,” Dan said. “And it better still be. Goodness knows how many hours I spent building that thing for you.”

  “I’ll report back later today,” Vic said, heading for the door without a backward glance. “Have a good day at work, Dad! See
you later, Mom!”

  Without waiting for his parents’ replies, he strode into the backyard, unlatched the rear gate, and stepped out into the forest beyond.

  It was like he had passed back to an arboreal existence, somewhere long before the coming of either man or mutant. Dense undergrowth and crooked, moss-dappled trees stretched away from him, denser and more knotted than he remembered. While the sun was climbing to its ascendancy, beneath the canopy the morning was still cool and fragrant, the last of the night’s lazy dreams lingering between the roots and branches. All was quiet and still, not a breath of air disturbing the leafy paradise.

  He took the track that had once led from the yard gate into the forest, now mostly overgrown. The forest floor was damp, the mulch soft beneath his feet. He went slowly and carefully, letting his senses attune to the new world he’d found himself in. It couldn’t have felt further from life at the Institute. It was different to the warm, welcoming contrast presented by his home though, more mysterious, more unknowable. It had changed since he’d been gone, grown wild and dense. It made him feel like an explorer travelling in a strange land, an astronaut crashed on an alien world. There was a childlike thrill to it, a moment of excitement when he glanced back and found no sign of his home. The forest had swallowed him up.

  This was where he’d spent most of his time growing up, playing with the rest of the neighborhood’s families. They’d constructed huts in between the trees, chasing and scrapping with each other and trying to catch the occasional vole or rabbit. He remembered driving off a gang of older boys who’d been attempting to wreck a bird’s nest up in an old sycamore. He’d “gone chameleon” and convinced them that the forest was haunted. Another time he and a few others had tried to dam up the creek that cut through the woodland further east. He’d gone home at the end of the day plastered in mud and endured the most furious telling-off Martha had ever given him, all while his dad pretended to be watching TV, struggling not to laugh.