Mutant? More Like Gifted

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They come back every day, but I decide to let someone else handle those two. I just work with my regulars. Then, one day, two more of them come. Captain America and Hulk. Luckily, it's near closing and we're the only ones there, other than the normal two.

"Can I help you?" I say with my fake smile and pathetic cheerful voice.

"Yes. You can help us by explaining what happened in the rain." Hulk, or Bruce, says.

"Fine. Mutant is the wrong term. That makes me sound like some freak of nature. I prefer the term gifted." I explain.

"Gifted, mutant, freak, they all are just labels." Tony says.

"At least I don't have some scale pattern like my sister." I snap.

"Scale pattern?" the Captain asks.

I feel like someone slapped me. Why did I say scale pattern! I just ruined it!

"Ugh, fine. I'm Coco's sister." I say.

The name Coco always gets caught in my throat. I always want to say Meg or Megan, but only I could call her that.

"Coco? That mutant girl that someone killed a little over a decade ago?" Bruce asks.

"Wow, I thought you were a genius. Also, the proper term would be murder, but I'll stick with kill. She saved my life when an agent tried to kill me in that hotel room." I explained.

"You were the child mutant?" Tony asks.

"Once again with the labels! I said not to say the m word! Say gifted or nothing at all." I snap.

"Calm down, kid." Steve says.

"I'm not a kid. I'm eighteen and I work almost every day trying to afford going to college." I tell them.

"Eighteen? I thought you were fourteen at most." Tony scoffs.

I slap the check down and turn the sign off. I turn off the interior lights and pull the outdoor furniture into the building. They've left by now, so I take the money and put the money in the register.

"Goodnight." I whisper as I lock the door.

I flop onto my bed in the apartment, and I text my mom and I tell her everything. She must have already gone to bed, because she hasn't responded.

I get a shower, and turn the water off when I'm done. I flick my wrist and the water evaporates. My tail becomes legs and I pull my pajamas on. Still no response from mom.

"Goodnight mom." I send as a voicemail.

I drift off to sleep, and no nightmares haunt me this time.

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