"I saw one."
"Did not."
"Did too!"
". . . Where?"
"Over there. Above the tree line."
"Nu uh."
"Nu huh!"
"Liar."
"I am no--"
"I see one!"
Two voices, simultaneously. "Nu uh!"
"I did! Over there, over the house. It was small."
". . . Do I believe him?"
"I dunno. I guess I do."
Silence.
"Something bit me."
"Yeah, right."
"It did!"
"Sure."
"Why do you always think I'm lying?"
"Why do you always lie?"
"You're a dork."
"You're a fart-face."
"Guys. . . ."
The same two voices as before. "What?"
A heavy, put-upon sigh. A definite change of subject. "Do you see any more of them?"
"No. Maybe they were here last night."
"Yeah, right. And maybe Elvis will come down on one and visit."
"And maybe I'll shave your eyebrows in the middle of the night."
"Well, maybe I'll tell everyone you're gay."
"So maybe I'll paint your bedroom pink."
"Then maybe I'll beat you up."
"Maybe I'll--"
"MAYBE," the third voice interrupted, "I'll just re-absorb you both, and then I can watch for meteors myself."
Silence.
"Are you sure they were tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Did you check?"
"Jamie. . . . "
"Well, did you?"
". . . No, I didn't check. I checked a few weeks ago and put it on the calendar."
"Maybe it changed."
"Jamie, meteor showers don't just change."
"Well, Jamie, maybe you wrote it down wrong."
"I didn't write it down wrong, Jamie."
"Bet you did. I'm gonna go check."
Jamie groaned. "This is nuts. There are too many of me to watch a meteor shower with."
The other Jamie agreed. "You should just re-absorb him."
The silence that followed was somehow sarcastic.
"You were wrong, James!"
"Let me see that paper! This is last week's paper, spitwad."
"Booger breath."
"If you weren't so pretty, I'd pound you."
"Well if you weren't so handsome--"
"I saw one."
Silence.
Together, both voices: "Where?"
"Over the barn."
"Liar."
"No, he wasn't. There's another one!"
Silence.
"Know why meteors have tails?"
"I'll bite. Why?"
"No, it's not a joke. I'm serious. It's because the sun is lighting up their dust trail."
"Liar."
"Am NOT!"
"You always lie. You were always the lying one of us."
". . . How can I be the 'lying one of us' if we're all the same?"
Silence.
"I dunno."
"Sometimes I think that parts of us get different things of us. For instance, you obviously didn't get the brain part."
"Well you didn't get the good looks."
"If I look anything like you, I believe it!"
"Well if I--"
A loud, put-upon sigh. "Why do I even make more me's?"
"Because you're bored?"
"Because you like to talk to yourself?"
"Because you're vain and there aren't enough mirrors around?"
"Because you love yourself so much you want lots of you's?"
"Eeeew! What would Freud have to say about that?"
Another sigh, louder and more put-upon this time. "Would you guys shut up?"
"I saw one! I finally saw one!"
"That's an airplane, geek-boy."
"Oh. Right. I knew that. . . . I don't think there are any meteorites out here."
"You already said that."
"Well I'm sticking by it!"
A comfortable pause.
"Know why crickets chirp?"
"Why?"
"Because they want sex."
"Is that why you whistle?"
". . . Can I pound him, Jamie? Can I? Please?"
Irriation. "No."
"Damn."
"Besides, if you pounded me then I'd tell everyone you're gay."
"No, I'll tell everyone you're gay."
"No, I'll tell everyone you're gay first."
"No, I'll--"
"There's another one."
Both voices: "Where?!"
"How come we never see these?"
Laced with frustration: "Because you're too busy bickering."
"He has a point."
"Yup. So shut up already."
"You shut up."
"No, you shut up."
"You first."
"You first."
"Not until you do."
"Well, I'm not shutting up until you do."
"Well, I'm not shutting up because you'll keep talking."
"I'm not shutting up because you'll brag about getting the last word, so you'd better shut up first."
"I won't shut up first because you can't make me."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well--"
"There's another one."
Both voices: "WHERE?!"
A laugh, low and quiet in the star-filled night.
"I think he's making it up."
"I think so, too."
"No! Wait! There's one!"
"That's an airplane."
"No it's not, you doppleganger!"
"I'm not a doppleganger, you're the doppleganger!"
"Actually, you're both dopplegangers."
". . . Oh."
"Damn."
Silence.
"Hey. Jamie. You cold?"
"Yeah."
"Me too. Hey, Jamie, you see any meteors?"
"Nah."
"You sure?"
"Spitwad! How could I be unsure? I'm looking!"
"Well, maybe you thought you saw one but weren't sure! It was a valid question!"
"Dumb question."
"You're dumb."
"No, you're--"
"There are meteors. You guys just need to stay out here longer."
" . . . Really?"
"Sure. Look at the sky."
"Okay."
Footsteps, walking away into the night.
"Hey, Jamie."
"What?"
"Where'd Jamie go?"
". . . I dunno."
"Did he go back into the house?"
"And leave us out here?"
"Alone?"
"Why would he do that?"
" . . . I have no idea."
"Me neither."
"Hey, there's one."
"That's just a satellite."
"How can you tell?"
"Because, unlike you, I have a brain."
"That's it. I'm gonna pound you."
**********************************
Note: Growing Up A Superhero is a series of stand alone stories about the X-Men, past, present, and future. Clicking on the link will take you to where they're archived; hit the back button on your browser to return here.