My head feels like it’s going to explode. It’s much too early to have a headache, but somehow he manages to give me one all the same. His voice grates on my nerves like a swarm of bees buzzing in a continuous circle around me. Men shouldn’t be able to get that high-pitched. He’s in his mid-twenties, for goodness sake, the same as me. Shouldn’t he be over puberty by now?

“Look, Bobby, I’m real sorry that I forgot about our plans when I agreed to tutor Andy, but you have to admit that he needs it. The kid’s about to fail history!” I want to roll my eyes, but instead I try to paste on my most sincere smile. It works sometimes.

This isn’t one of those times.

“Is it so much to ask that you remember you have a boyfriend sometimes, Rogue?” His blue eyes, usually my favorite feature, glare down at me.

His selfishness is so frustrating. We’re low on teachers right now, with Kurt, Erik, and Raven out on an assignment. Not that it’s a loss not to have Raven around. My foster mama can be such a drama queen sometimes. She won’t quit complaining that Bobby doesn’t treat me right. As if she’s done much for me over the years, no matter how much she’s trying to make up for it now.

Still, Kurt’s the other history teacher, which leaves me to pick up the slack. I’ve been teaching every period instead of having a couple off, and I’ve been tutoring all the kids who need help. Thankfully there aren’t too many, but Andy’s a handful and can’t seem to pay attention unless we’re doing one-on-one study time. Every little thing will distract that boy, maybe because his mutation is incredibly heightened sight and hearing. He’s just not used to them yet. Logan’s working with him on that, while the rest of us just try to give him extra time and help to get assignments complete.

Speaking of distracted, I pull my attention back to Bobby’s rant. He’s harping on how much I’ve been ignoring him lately. To be honest, whenever we’re around each other we just seem to fight, so yeah, I’ve been avoiding him. It looks like this is another time to cut private time short.

I look at the alarm clock next to my bed and allow myself to look shocked. “We only have a few minutes until classes start. Can we finish this later, honey?”

Bobby gives me a wounded pout, but I just smile at him gently. He takes so much attention to keep happy. It’s exhausting me, I swear.

“Fine, but we will talk about this later,” he mutters. He goes to stand outside my door while I slip on my gloves. I can control my powers for short stints, but it’s best not to test that around the children. No need for them to be scared of Miss Rogue. Trying to deal with emerging mutations is frightening enough.

Bobby glances down the hall as I approach him, and then suddenly he looks back at me and smiles like I’m his favorite thing in the world. I wonder who he’s putting on a show for now, and then I feel ashamed of myself. Why do I always assume that his attentions are less than genuine?

Of course, I peek out in the same direction as I step up to Bobby and take his extended hands in mine, prepared to play my part. It’s just Logan, though, so I smile at him, a true smile this time for one of my best friends. Bobby pulls my hand and brings my attention back to him. We walk down the hall, but just as we’re about to turn the corner I look over my shoulder at Logan once more.

Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll make sure to find him later and pester him until he tells me. He will, I know it. I just can’t think of anything that would cause him to look so confused. It’s not a familiar expression on his admittedly handsome face. Logan has many good qualities, but his humility is practically non-existent. He thinks he knows everything. Unfortunately, he’s usually right. It would be infuriating if I didn’t care for him so much.

The walk to my classroom is quiet between the two of us, although the students more than make up for it as they run through the halls, trying their best not to be late. It’s so nice to see them caring about that instead of worrying about how they’ll be treated. Some of them come here so broken, like I was, but right now we only have happy, mostly adjusted kids to deal with.

“Let’s at least try to meet for dinner, okay?” Bobby asks me as we stop by the door to the history classroom.

I bite back a sigh and instead paste another smile on. “Sure, sounds great!” I try to say as enthusiastically as possible. Maybe it’s a bit much because he gives me a strange look before wandering in the direction of the science lab where he teaches chemistry for the first few periods of the day.

There must be something in the air today, because my students are all antsy little things. I try to keep the older ones occupied by tying the history of the Golden Age of humanity with off the wall facts from the early twentieth century, like the fact that the first Christmas tree lights were invented more than two decades after electricity was first successfully harnessed, or that Hollywood was built just two decades later. They seem to appreciate my efforts and have some interesting debates on whether movie-making would have been as successful as it has been if the development of lighting hadn’t allowed for such unusual dramatic effects in the early decades of Hollywood. The younger students are more difficult, all seeming to find a dozen other things to ask questions about other than the early development of the Egyptians. I begin to remember why I usually leave the younger students to my foster brother. Kurt has much more patience than I do.

The lunch bell finally rings, signaling all the kids to erupt in cheers. I don’t think the lesson was that bad, but I admit to being relieved that it’s over, too. I dismiss my students and gather up their tablets, storing them away in the special cabinet where we keep the textbooks. I enjoy the few minutes of quiet, barring the sounds of rushing feet and shouts outside the classroom door, before I head out myself to the communal dining room. It’s my turn to be a lunch monitor, and my usual partner is waiting by the door looking a little lost.

“Tell me why they have the two of us doing this again?” Logan grumbles.

“Because we managed to get out of lunch monitor duty the last two weeks with assignments, sugar. C’mon, or the kids won’t leave us any food.” I nudge him with my shoulder, as always, and he gives me another of those looks that makes me wonder what’s going on with him. It’s not his normal sarcastic raised eyebrow or long-suffering frown. I can’t interpret it.

Logan is quiet as we make up plates from the buffet. He keeps looking around the room like he thinks it’s going to disappear. There’s a sort of desperate hope in his eyes that I don’t understand. I haven’t seen that look in ages, not since…well, not since he thought maybe Jean might be willing to leave Scott for him. I hope that’s not the direction he’s going again. That mess took years and way too much alcohol to clean up, I swear. In fact, trying to help him nurse his broken heart was what cemented our friendship outside of the mentor to student roles in the first place.

I lead the way to our table, the one off to the side where we can keep an eye on most of the room without reminding the kids too much that they’re being watched over. All the teachers agree that it’s best to keep the lunch hour casual, since ours isn’t exactly a normal school anyway. To my surprise, Logan takes the seat I normally do, facings more toward the wall than the room, leaving me to sit across from him. I guess it’s my turn to keep an eye on the kids. He must have a lot on his mind or something.

We eat the first few bites of our barbecue chicken and rice in silence. He doesn’t meet my eyes, instead keeping his gaze almost exclusively on his food. I decide to try and figure out what’s been going on with him today, here where we’re at least partially private.

“Okay, sugar, spill. What’s up?” I goad him, trying out a winning smile.

Logan looks up, and I can tell he’s truly startled. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes. “You’ve had this weird look in your eye all day. Did something happen last night after I went to bed? I mean, I know the game wasn’t all that great, but you didn’t seem too upset by it.” The teasing doesn’t work. Instead, he looks confused.

“Uh, no, nothing happened last night. It’s just…don’t worry about it, okay?” He tries to brush me off. He must have forgotten how persistent I can be.

“Oh, no. I’m not letting you turn into Mr. Brooding today. You have classes this afternoon, and there’s no way I’m doing that to your students,” I tell him, putting down my fork and leaning forward. “What is going on with you today, Logan? It’s almost like you’re in a different place entirely.”

He snorts a laugh, to my surprise, and then shakes his head. “Nothin’ like that. I just have some things to think about. Can we drop it?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “For now, because I’m really hungry, we will drop it. But don’t think that you’re getting off this easily, mister. You know I have ways of making you talk.” I lift my fork and wave it at him, earning another reluctant laugh.

“Yeah, I guess.” He pauses to take a bite. “Everything okay with you and Bobby? You seemed a little—tense this morning.”

It’s my turn to get grilled, I guess. “It’s just one of those mornings. He’s not happy that I’m having to spend so much extra time teaching with Kurt off taking care of things in St Louis.”

“Well, history’s a pretty important topic. We can’t exactly let the kids skip out on it because one of the teachers is gone.”

I wave my fork. “That’s what I’ve tried to tell him. It’s like he expects me to be at his beck and call unless he’s busy—which is a stupid and outdated idea, but getting him to change is like a human beating her head against a brick wall. It doesn’t have any effect, and it’s hurting me,” I murmur.

Logan reaches over and takes my hand. He’s not the touchy-feely type, but apparently he senses my distress. “Why stay with him if he makes you so unhappy?”

I shake my head and blink back tears. “You’ve asked me that before, and the answer’s still the same. I’m not going to give up the one guy who doesn’t seem to care about my skin. You know that.”

“But your control—“

“Isn’t perfect. It isn’t even constant. How can I ask anyone to risk that who isn’t interested enough to try in the first place? It’s easier to stay with what I know.”

Logan looks at me, really looks me in the eye, for the first time since lunch started. “Maybe easy isn’t everything you’re making it out to be.”

I take a shaky breath. “Probably not. But it’s my choice right now.” I bow my head over my food and concentrate on filling my stomach. We don’t talk anymore until the warning bell for the end of lunch sounds. He silently takes my plate and walks away. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed in me or distracted by his own issues again, and frankly I don’t have time to wonder about it too much. There are three more periods left of the day before I have to tutor for another two hours. I need to keep my head in the game and do my job, not worry about my friend or my boyfriend.