"Journal" by Karen

       Baltimore, MD, present day

        Felicia ran along the south side boardwalk that lined that harbour.  Her black leather sneakers
       pounded on the pavement.   The fluidity of her forward movement with the wind at her back,
       made her blond hair stream out behind her.   The afternoon sunlight was partially blocked by a knot
      of clouds streaking across the sky.

        For a second Felicia paused, placing her hands on her knees, just catching her breath.
       She glanced towards where a wind surfer had just completed an 180 degree turn,
    For a moment she wished she owned a boat, which she could take out any time she wanted to leave
    dry land. A few seconds later, the wind surfer lost his balance and fell into the water.  She laughed
    when he came up spluttering, clinging  to his board, and cursing his luck.    The piercing whine of
    a foghorn distracted her, signalling the first Wednesday of the month.

    Once she had her backpack in a more comfortable position, she waited for the walk signal to
    come on.  Felicia absently wondered how her math final would turn out:
    I think my math teacher is just hard on me because I'm the basketball team.
    I just hope passed that test so I can stay on the squad

     As she crossed the street, Felicia almost collided with someone entering a roped off area
    where an outdoor rummage sale was open for business.

     When she had regained her balance,  the other person, instead of being upset at the
    jostling, simply looked up, "Watch where you're going," the woman said mildly
    and walked away.

    A split second was all it took for her to decide to do a little browsing:
    "Who knows, maybe I'll find some rare treasure hidden among all this stuff."

    "Oh, I'm sure you'll find something to your liking," one of the vendors offered.

    She slowed down to a walk and strolled along the aisles created by the placement of the booths.
    Most had lined their booths with colorful blankets and had hand lettered signs
    advertising their merchandise.  She moved along, stopping briefly to admire a trinket or two.
    She found it a little odd that there were a few booths that offered speciality items: like leather
    ,glass, jewellery,  food and drink; advertising their wares with a picture of the item, instead
    of their names.  But she didn't think too much on it.   She stopped briefly to admire some of
     the jewellery and a few knick-knacks, not really intending to buy and moved on.

            Not really sure why her 'butterfly attention span', as mother called it, lingered
            on the a booth specializing in bolts of cloth, hand-woven carpets, and sweaters, and a few
         pewter figurines, and a stack of old books.  Although most of the kids she knew at school
         would prefer to read an e-book rather than tackle the assigned reading, Felicia often thought
         that  there was nothing quite like holding a 'real' book in your hands, and being able to read
        at your own pace.

            The woman standing behind the table draped with a shimmery aquamarine fabric had black
            hair wore in thick braid held in place by ivory combs.  Her clothes were obviously a product
           of her own shop since they were as brilliantly shaded as the carpets and sweaters for sale.

            "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked in an accent that Felicia couldn't
             placed, but it sounded European.

            "Ah no, just browsing," Felicia replied, flipping through the box of books that held an
            equal assortment of hard covers and paperbacks.

                "There's more where those came from," the woman offered, indicating the boxes that
                had been stacked in a corner.  "Please feel free to look through them.  If you're looking
                for a present  for someone else, we offer gift wrapping at no charge."

            "Uh, thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
            She knelt down in the corner, then slid the boxes nearer to her.  Felicia pulled out the titles
            one by one, idly glancing at the titles on the spines.  When one caught her interest she
            flipped through the first few pages, scanning the style.  It didn't really matter if the
            previous owner had written some sort of dedication or notes in the margin; or if the books
            weren't in that good of a condition.  She began rummaging through the other boxes.
            After a  few moments of frustration, Felicia was about to give up when her fingers
            made contact with a small volume with a lock and a silver lettering on the spine and on
            the cover.   She flipped open the catch, which was broken, and glanced at the pages.
            "Just checking if it's been written in or something," she muttered to herself. It had,
            but very, very seldom, from the looks of the thing.

               "Hey, is this for sale?  I think it's someone's diary?"

                "Yes. Did you find anything else you like?" she smiled, apparently
                not hearing the question on whether the volume in question was a diary or not.

                "How about this?" Felicia held up the diary, which the woman took and glanced
                at the yellow price sticker on the cover..

                "Of course.  Good choice.  Every young woman should have a place to record
               their thoughts and feelings," the woman replied, "$4.25. and I'll wrap it up for you."

                    Felicia  stuck her hand into her sweat pants pocket and fished out a rather
                    crinkled looking five dollar bill, then waited as the woman wrapped up the book
                    in white tissue paper and placed into a plain brown bag, which she handed back.
                    Opening up the cash box, she gave her change and wished her a pleasant evening.
                    She stuffed her new purchase into her duffel bag, thanked the woman.

                    Herding to the boardwalk, Felicia glanced at her watch, she was going to have to
                     get home.  Her mother was expecting  her for dinner, and if she didn't hurry she
                    would be late.
 

        She made it in, just under the wire, and during dinner her mother hadn't even asked what had
        taken so long, or what she'd had been doing.
        Felicia kicked off her shoes  and headed up to her room. She let her backpack slide to
        the floor and unzipped  it to take out the diary out of its brown paper bag..

        She ran her fingers along the silver spine wondering what had prompted her to buy it.
        After all, its not like she didn't already have one.  Despite what the woman  at the rummage
        sale might have to say on the matter. "Like it's supposed to be some kind of teenage girl thing
        to keep a diary."

            She flung herself on her beanbag chair forcing the eviction of its current residents; including her
          stuffed bear, and stuffed panda.  Comfortably settled, she began reading the diary.
            Like most diaries, it always started out with 'Dear Diary' but there weren't any specific dates
            which made it difficult to tell if this was the first entry, or if there had been more; they were
            gone now.

                'Life has a funny way of turning people's lives around.  Back in my trailer park home I
                always thought I was the one who drove my Dad to the bottle.  And then I ran away.
                Maybe that broke him?  I just couldn't take it anymore: the drunken scenes, the
                shouting, his withdrawal from me.'

                "OH my God," Felicia cried. "What are the odds,  if my Mom had left her own trailer park
                home... this could have been me."  She turned the page and kept reading.
                The handwriting was blurry; probably because the the little silver volume had seen a
                a lot of wear and tear before it wound up at that rummage sale.

                'I had to split. I lived as best I could on the streets.  Would it have broken my poor
                dead mother's heart if she knew had to live like a whore?  I know it broke mine.
                And then I guess fate smiled on me, I caught a lucky break.

                 Felicia rubbed her fingers along the tasselled bookmark that the previous owner
                  had left inside the diary. It had a black background, there were identical
                 vertical red stripes at the opposite edges, and in the center a black circle
                  with a red X. "Kinda of like those no-smoking signs. "So what does it mean?"

                Well, I guess it depends on your point of view, being a mutant and all.
                J/k, diary.  I was 'found' by the Cable and the New Mutants, or was it the
                other way around?'

                "Mutants, why would anyone make stuff like this up?"  She turned another page.

                'Not that long ago, I tried going back to Jones town and talking to 'him'.  I don't
                talk about what drove me away from this place, not even with my closest friends and
                team-mates.  And I can't really say what made me come back.  But we talked, and he actually
                talked without making me feel like I was just what they used to call 'white trash.'
                or some kind of freak.

                         "Man, this is creepy, how come this sounds like some person is ghost-writing
                 the story of my life? Ok, I'm going to pinch myself and this will all be a bad dream.
                Would some one please tell me this is just a coincidence.  This person is from
                Jonestown trailer park, just like me.  Just like Mom;  she had drunken slob of
                a husband/ father, who made her feel like less than nothing trailer trash. This mutant
                thing is not something I can deal with right now, so we'll
                just conveniently let that slide."

                And you'll never have guessed this in a million years, diary.  He didn't hate me for being
                a mutant, or for running away. Okay, so maybe I was hoping for a little closure.
               I got the closure that I wanted. At least it was a start, but then  my Old Man
               goes and drops a bombshell on me, that's pretty funny since with my powers,
               I can blow up just about anything.  Get it?  I don't know if it was the alcohol talking,
               or if he was actually sober.  All these years I thought my mother was dead,
                and here she tells me she's alive and living who knows where? Not that I care,
               one way or the other, its just that he hid it from me.  Of course, right after that
               the trailer goes 'boom,. and well, that's just a day in the life for a member of
                X-Force.  But that incident did show me that cutting loose,  copping a new attitude,
                and got the oomph to back it up. That's why I call myself Meltdown now.'
 

                 'Okay, diary,  I know everyone thinks of me as the bubble headed blonde, but that's
                fine by me, it's just easier to do that, especially when things got 'serious'. around here
                which is pretty much all the time.  My life has never been easy.  I'll admit that.
                And for a while it was just easier to blame someone or something else.  I used to think
                of it as one long waking nightmare.  Bad parents.  Bad school.  Bad times.
                I blamed it on a lot of things.  Well, once I decided to 'cut loose',  So,  I guess
                that means I'm not blaming anyone, seriously.  Not  anymore.

                    'Speaking of 'serious':   On a happier note, I am so in love with  Mr Straight
                Arrow.   The real love, Diary, like, you know,  sappy romances kind of love.
                His is/was X-Force's deputy leader, Sam.
                I  guess I am totally blocking out that whole being on separate teams, thing....
                This gig with X-Force has been incredible ride, despite the bad times, and being on the
                fringe of things.   I gotta go now, Diary. More later......'

                Felicia quickly flipped through  the remaining pages, unfortunately they were
                disappointingly blank.  Snapping it shut, she tossed the diary into a pile of stuffed
                animals behind her, where it was conveniently camouflaged.
                "Okay, that was a bit more than I bargained for when I did my impulse shopping."

                "Felicia," her mother called from the kitchen, :   "I've got desert ready, why don't
                you come down."

                "Sure, be right there."

       "I guess, 'how was school today'  wouldn't be a good place to start," Maggie Smith
        remarked, removing a tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven, she glanced
        towards her daughter, and the saw the tense set of her shoulders and the tight
        lip intense look in her blue eyes. "I've just finished a batch of cookies. Do you
        want hot cocoa or tea?"  She set down the rack and turned off  the stove,
        where a tea kettle began whistling.

       A mix of emotions stirred inside Felicia, as much as the hot water giving off bubbles.
        She didn't know how should feel. "Maybe I just feel  numb."

             "Hmm," Maggie Smith replied, "What did you say? I wasn't paying attention."
            She waited for Felicia to reply, and watched her page through a silver diary
            she had brought down with her. After a moment she asked.
              "I've told you about where I used to live, right?, as she held the tea cup between
                her hands, taking small sips so she wouldn't burn her tongue.

           "Yeah, you don't have to talk about it," Felicia replied, shrugging, sitting down
           at the kitchen table and helping herself to one of the freshly baked cookies.
            "You said something about hot-choclate?"

           "I think we need to talk.  I've never tried to hold anything back from you, dear.
            I've always tried to be honest.  As painful as staying with your father and his drunken ways, i
            it was just as painful to just pick up and leave," Maggie said.

                 "I know you left there because Dad beat you something fierce,"  Felicia whispered.
            "It's not like there's anything else I need to know.  I mean, it's horrible to think that someone,
          who was my father, could even think about hurting the woman who was his wife, and
            the mother of his kid."

    "You would think so," Maggie replied. "And the fact is battering is the establishment
    of control and fear in a relationship through other forms of abuse, including intimidation,
    threats, to coerce and control the other person.  The violence doesn't happen often,
    but it remains a hidden and terrorizing factor."

            "When push came to shove...." Felica winced, "Sorry, Mom, poor choice of words,"
              "Even though he only did it when he was drunk, that doesn't excuse it," Felicia said,
    biting back tears.  "What made you decide to leave?"

           "Out of curiosity,  you've never been this agitated before about why we moved out
            to Baltimore. Why now?"

        :"It's about this."  Felicia thrust the silver diary towards her mother.

         "Actually, " her mother smiled, but it wasn't reflected in her eyes," To answer your
          question. You did."

        "I did?" Felicia choked and set down her mug of hot-chocolate. "I wasn't even born yet."

        "Exactly," Maggie nodded.  "About three months after I discovered I was pregnant
          with you, it was either stay and endanger both of our lives, or pick up and leave.
         Given the choice between the lesser of two evils, I chose to leave."
         When I left I thought the beating would end, that maybe when he saw that his daughter
        was in danger, your father would give up the alcohol and get the help he needed."

        "Do you think it would have made any difference if you had stayed?" Felicia sobbed.
        "If you knew I had a sister, why didn't you tell me about her?"    She wasn't sure who
        she angrier at; herself for wanting to know more about this mysterious 'lost' sister,
        her mother for keeping Tabitha's existence a secret, or the fact that she had always
        believed herself to be an only child.

           "However, there is one small detail I may have neglected to mention," Maggie
         sighed.  she picked through the dusty diary. . It pages were dog-eared
       as if it seen frequent use, and she idly flipped through cream-colored pages, then
       allowed her gaze to drop to where the previous owner had left that red X,  tasselled bookmark
       A few uncomfortable seconds later, she dropped the diary to the
        kitchen table.  It happened to be the same that one that started with
         'I got the closure I wanted' and ended with 'My Old Man dropped a bombshell
        on me.  Which is pretty funny since I can blow up just about anything with my
        powers.  I don't know if it was the alcohol talking or if he was sober; he tell me
        mother's alive.  And all these years I thought she was dead.
        Not that I care one way or the other.
       It's just that he hid it from me...

        Maggie read the entry aloud.  As she did so, a tear trickled down her face.
        "I really should have told you the truth. But some truths are better left alone."

        So, you've  been holding out on me about having a sister...."Felicia trailed off,
        "What's so terrible about that?"

           Her mother came back with a manila folder where she kept her newspaper clippings.
        And sat at the table again.   "It's time I told you, and you're old enough now to hear this.
        You've always believed that you were an only child, well, the truth is, you have an
        older sister, her name is Tabitha."

       ***
         Her mother pulled out a clipping of a newspaper article, along with a faded photograph,
        it's edges crinkled as crepe paper and just as brittle.  Felicia glanced at the picture,
        In it, a thirteen year old blonde girl,  Tabitha, faced off against a street thug twice her
        size with snake tattoos that covered his forearms.  The picture was taken at an angle where
        the girl's face was towards the viewer.  Felicia concentrated on the girl's face, captured
        in the moment of her fear.  Peering a little closer,  Felicia saw the close resemblance
        to herself, it was uncanny:  the same peroxide blonde hair, tied up in a pink ribbon,
        the same pixie like button nose, the same slim build, and identical determined blue eyes.

        "The picture was taken after Tabitha ran away from home," Maggie Smith almost
        choked on the words.    Her mother took out more clippings from the leather envelope,
        this one was of Tabitha on the street, done in lipstick, high heel shoes, and mascara.
        The next was of Tabitha dressed in black and yellow spandex a sphere of energy in her hand.

        "I just couldn't.  It was too painful after she ran away. I believed she was dead, or
        worse, maybe living on the streets.  Later, I found out she was a mutant....
        Maggie removed more clippings from the envelope.

        "I've heard about mutants, but no one really knows what or who they are?
        "Are they really as terrible as everyone says?  Couldn't you accept her when you found
        out she alive?"  Felicia demanded.

        "Felicia, hon. I came to  Baltimore to get a fresh start. As far as you and Tabitha
        are concerned, you're both my children, regardless of how you turned out.  Love is
       unconditional," her mother said, absently smoothing the corners of another photo.
       This one was of Tabitha in a pink body suit and a boy with long brown hair dressed in
        green and white body suit.  She appeared to be complaining about something but
         she couldn't tell exactly what since the background had faded to a dull white.

        Felicia randomly picked another photo from the pile; this of  three girls:
        one with black hair, one with red, and a blonde, they were sitting in front of
      a television set, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

            The next was of Tabitha and a tall blond kid wearing aviator style goggles
            standing in abandoned warehouse, what looked like campaign flyers scattered
            underneath their feet like leftover cigarette ends.

            "When was this taken?"  Felicia asked.

            "AH,  I guess the pair of you are more alike then I would like to admit.
             And to answer your question, it was taken quite a while ago.  I really
            should keep better track of these things.  If the reporter gave the story
            fair treatment, this happened about three years ago.  Apparently your sister
            joined  a mutant team called X-Force. They  were on a mission to rescue some
            friends from an anti mutant vigilante group."
 

        "Vigilante group?  What kind of stuff did Tabitha get herself mixed up with?

        "Let me finish.  The vigilante group is called the 'Friends of Humanity.,
        They're just a bunch of zealots who think they know best, and are bound and
        determined to prove it.  You ask me, they're nothing but trouble, and
        very prejudiced against mutants."

          "Does Dad know about her?" Felicia asked in spite of herself.

            "Unfortunately, yes, he does. In fact, not that long ago, she came to visit him.
            And you can imagine how well that turned out," Maggie muttered mostly to herself.

            "Bet it blew up in his face," Felicia muttered.

            "In more ways than one," her mother whispered. "When it comes to you both,
            you're rather alike, I guess.  And neither I nor your father hate Tabitha for being
           a mutant. And he doesn't hate you because I took you away from him.  For a drunk,
           he did finally tell her the truth."

            "Which is?"

            "That I didn't die, or disappear off the face of the earth.  I left because of him.."
            Maggie smiled, "Your cocoa is getting cold and if you don't the eat the chocolate
            chips cookie, soon, they may not be around much longer."

        "Like you're finally telling me the truth about having  a sister.  Does she know about
           me?" Felicia whispered, automatically reaching for a few more cookies.

            "You're not being fair, hon. But,  I suppose it's pretty normal reaction to have,
            given the circumstances.  And no, she doesn't know she has a sister.

        Dear Tabitha,

          This is going to be very hard for me to find a place to start this letter....And maybe you're
          going to find this hard to believe, but life has a funny way of turning your world
          around, but I guess you already know that , right?  Anyway, my name is Felicia
          Smith.  And a spur of the moment decision to poke around a rummage sale in
         Baltimore, MD led to the discovery of a diary.  I know what you're probably
        going to say.   I can just imagine seeing you open this letter, and wondering why
        in the world, would anyone care about some old diary, but this was different.
        Not just any old diary, but yours.  I can't imagine how it  wound up on that table,
        but it did.

             Well, what I'm trying to say, is I found out that we're related. We're sisters.
            Okay, I've said it..  We are sisters...
            You don't have to do anything, like find each other, have some kind of reunion
            like you see on daytime talk shows, and make up for lost time.
            Well, not unless you want to.  I guess Mom always knew about you, even after
            you ran away, she did keep track of you, just to be sure you were all right.
            She accepted that you were a mutant far sooner than our drunken  Old Man
            did. And that's saying a lot.   I guess that's going to take some getting used to.
            But if  our Mom, can show unconditional love, regardless of anything else, I can, too.

             I don't know where you are right now, and maybe I never will.
            Just know, that since we share the same blood, that I will always be
            there for you, if not in person, than at least in spirit.

            With love,

            Felicia.