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    Duck and Cover

Westchester, NY
May 11, 1998 10:30 AM

John, Bobby, Buffy, and Marie sipped iced mochas at a café table in front of a local coffeehouse. Marie and Buffy were surrounded by several very full shopping bags. John had one bag. Bobby had two.

“Remind me again why I agreed to ditch, Buffy,” Marie asked, as a sheriff’s patrol car passed by and Buffy pulled her black ball cap lower in front of her face.

“Your unquenchable thirst for adventure?” Buffy replied with a smirk.

Marie rolled her eyes.

Buffy laughed. “No? How about a compulsive drive for wardrobe expansion? I know that’s why I’m here.” Buffy sighed, “The sale signs… the window displays… the beautiful abrasive music of a credit card going through.” She smiled ruefully, “It’s an itch. And I must scratch it.”

Marie seemed to be seriously considering this theory. “Well, yes…”

Bobby nudged her. “But…”

“Oh yeah… my point is, don’t you think we should be getting back? Not to sound paranoid. But, that was a little too close.”

“Go back now? Why would we want to do that?” John asked, baiting Marie.

Bobby answered, taking up for his girl, “Do the words: Buffy, murder suspect, and serious slammer time mean anything to you?”

Buffy shrugged, “I’m not all that worried. I don’t know why Xavier is. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Bobby, visibly startled, asked, “You’ve been accused of murder before?”

Buffy laughed. “Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Arson. Felony, last time I checked.”

John smiled boyishly and kissed her cheek. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” Then, pulling back, he shrugged, “I just couldn’t remember what it was.”

Buffy punched him playfully.

John winced and rubbed his arm. “Oww! Easy there, big Slayer.”

“Subject change. Somebody. Please.”

Bobby rubbed his girlfriend’s shoulder, and with a teasing grin said, “Only this once.”

John picked up his cup, swirling the chocolate concoction before taking a sip. “Anybody see Professor Logan this weekend?”

“Logan? No, I heard he took Scott’s Buell and went into the city.” Turning to Buffy, he explained, “He does that sometimes… just takes off…” Pausing, Bobby contemplated the table for a minute, “ever since Dr. Gray…”

“Scott’s fiancée, you mean?” Buffy asked, plainly startled.

“Yeah,” said Marie sadly. “Logan knew they were engaged, but he just couldn’t help himself. Fell hopelessly in love with her.”

Buffy shrugged. Her face turned cold for a moment. “Love equals crazy.”

“Speaking of crazy,” Marie said, as she stood, took Buffy’s hand in her gloved one, and pulled Buffy to her feet. “We’d be crazy to hang out here any longer.”

Buffy smiled, “Ok, Ok.” Then lifting up her bags, she said, “Back up the trunk.”

A few hours later in Professor Xavier’s office, Buffy was beginning to suffer buyer’s remorse. Although, she mused, the little red dragon dress might just be worth the first forty-five minutes of the lecture she was presently ignoring, after getting caught sneaking back in to the school.

“Buffy, are you listening to me?” Scott hollered.

Buffy looked up at Scott, then behind him at Xavier, Ororo and Logan. Nodding, she said, “Mmm-hmm. Bad Buffy. Buffy bad.”

Scott just groaned and turned to look at the window.

“Buffy,” Xavier began, “You must understand that when you left school grounds with the other students, you were endangering them, as well as yourself.”

Buffy sighed. “I get it. I got it. We’re good.”

Xavier nodded. “Very well, you may go.”

Scott whirled around. “You can’t be serious! When I was a student, you’d never let me get away with that crap.”

“Scott, Buffy’s not a student. She’s a guest. I think she understands, and will be more careful when making decisions in the future.”

Scott glared.

Buffy groaned. “Scott, if you want me to leave, just say so. Otherwise, can we wrap this up? I have a wicked Mocha hangover. I’d like to go take a nap.”

“Fine.”

Buffy left the office and Logan trailed close behind. When she reached the stairs, she stopped on the second step and said, “What?”

Logan grabbed her arm and turned her around, “You’re acting like a selfish, spoiled brat, Buffy.”

“Am I?” she asked, lowering her eyes to his hand on her arm.

“You are. And what’s more, you know it.”

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Logan,” she snapped, “Stay out of it.”

Buffy resumed her slow stroll up the stairs. After a minute, she called out to him, “Logan.”

“What?”

Without turning around to face him, she continued, “If you ever touch me again without my permission, you’ll be very, very sorry.”


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