The Boy With The Red Sunglasses

Evelyn James is just an average teenage girl - clever, relatively popular, friendly. But after the unbelievable events of her prom night, she manages to fall into more and more trouble, and there is only one person who understands - the boy with the red sunglasses.

*Basically, an X-Men fanfic set in present day, explaining Scott's first experiences with his mutation and the X-Men. I've been told it makes total sense even if you don't know anything about X-Men! So, please check it out. :)*


39. Not Sticking Around

"Evelyn, wait-" Scott's voice pleads behind me as I leave the room. "It's not what you think!" Isn't that what they all say?
I ignore him and keep walking. Keep walking on and on. I don't know where I'm going but I feel my heart does.
"Evelyn, don't you dare leave this house!" I hear Scott's warning voice behind me. How the hell could he think he can tell me what to do? Especially now?
I keep walking. And soon I find myself in the dressing room. I tap the control panel a little too hard and enter the display room. My eyes sting with tears when I think the last time I was here was before our date the other night. I look down at the pendant that lies so delicately against my skin. My anger and hurt peaks and I rip the jewellery from my body, breaking the chain, and throw it to the floor. Now in the display room, I quickly remove my uniform from the case I stuff it into the bag with the rest of my clothes in that somehow still hangs in my fingers. I take the mask from the glass shelf delicately, is this really who I'm supposed to be? All I seem to do is mess this up. I almost got Warren killed. Bobby is scared of me. And now I'm just getting between Scott and Jean's perfect little romance.
"Argh!" I scream and punch the wall beside me.
"Please, don't. Don't hurt yourself." My head flicks up to see Scott stood in the doorway.
"I already did, by trusting you." My voice does not sound weak like it has done so many times this weekend, but instead, I sound confident and strong. I storm past him and out of the display room. He follows.
"Please! I can explain. Jean means nothing to me! She's no more than a friend, a teammate! Jean and I-"
"Are the perfect little romance." I finish, my voice sarcastic and harsh. "I know, Scott. I know."
"No, Evelyn. No, it's not like that! Please don't go!" He begs as I exit the dressing room and head for the front door. He doesn't follow me. Good. I notice that the car is still parked outside and suddenly, I know where I'm going.  I exit the mansion and stride down to the car, before slipping into the driver's seat. I throw my bag down next to me and my mask spills out onto the passenger seat cushion.
I check the glove compartment. Scott has left his wallet. I open it and flick through the money, there's about $60 in there! Perfect. I turn the key that remains in the ignition and speed away just as Scott runs out of the mansion's huge front door behind me. He shouts something but I can't hear him over the distance and the engine.
The gates open slowly and I rev the engine as I wait willing them to go faster, willing them to let me escape. Finally, they do.
I drive into town, feeling better about the distance between me and my problem.
I don't understand. I thought he loved me. I thought he wanted to be with me. None of this makes sense. He can't want her. Surely?
I don't feel like crying. After this weekend, I think I've realized when it's appropriate to cry. Now is not one of those times. Now, I just feel anger, hated and frustration, mostly towards myself for being so blind. I pull the car into the public parking lot and park across two spaces. I don't care.
I notice now that I'm still wearing Scott's shirt. I rip through my bag until I find something I want to wear. I settle for a small black tank. As I remove it from the bag, I notice my favourite shoes placed neatly in the bottom. I pick up one of the black heels when I notice there is a small note tacked to the note that reads:

I love you more than you love these shoes.  Scott  ;) xxx

Argh! I throw the shoes down into the footwell of the car. I change my shirt quickly. Yes, this is a public parking lot. Yes, I am in a car with no roof. But again, I just don't care. I look down to the passenger seat. On one side of my bag lies Scott's wallet. On the other side lies my eye mask. I suddenly gain a few seconds of clarity. I'm angry, more so than I've ever been in my life. I need something to take my anger out on. Retail therapy is just not going to work right now. I pick up the mask and leave the car.

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