"Nice area," Bobby observed thoughtfully from the driver's seat of their rented vehicle.
"Very nice," Warren agreed from the seat beside Jeffrey's. His blue skin was covered up by his image inducer he wore whenever he went out in public. “I'll bet it's even prettier in the spring."
“Maybe we ought to come back then," said Bobby. He turned to Xavier. "You know, just to check it out."
The professor was pleased by his companion's suggestion. "I see no reason why we shouldn't."
The road wound its way through the autumn hills a while longer. Then it brought them to the institution's rounded brick gatehouse. As they approached it, a security guard in a blue uniform came out and asked them the reason for their visit.
Bobby rolled down his window and poked his head out. "We're bringing back one of your clients," he explained.
Making a face, the guard peered into the van through a window. "Which one is he?"
Warren smiled and patted Jeffrey on the shoulder. "My friend here," he said. "His name's Jeffrey Saunders."
The guard's eyes opened wide. "Saunders? Holy... that's the kid who got away from the police, isn't it?" He took another look at Jeffrey. “Hard to believe he could do that."
Bobby smiled at him. “I guess you never know about someone just from looking at them. For all I know, you could be one of those mutants everybody's talking about."
The guard grunted good naturedly. "Yeah, right. Anyway, you can keep going. Mrs. Stoyanovich told me to expect you."
"Thanks," said Bobby.
Then he rolled up his window and drove the van up to the main building, where they found a small parking lot and slipped into an empty space. The guard must have phoned ahead, because Mrs. Stoyanovich was coming down the institution's front steps as they started to disembark.
Unfortunately, Xavier couldn't just levitate himself out of the vehicle. He had to wait patiently until Bobby went around to the back of the van and got his wheelchair for him, then helped him slide into it.
At the same time, Warren opened Jeffrey's door. Jeffrey got out and looked around wonderingly.
"Jeffrey, Jeffrey, Jeffrey," Mrs. Stoyanovich said, obviously relieved to see her charge again. She took his hands in hers with undisguised affection. "Whatever possessed you to take off like that?" she asked plaintively. “Don't you like it here?"
Bobby and Warren looked at the professor. He nodded, silently assuring them that he would take care of a response.
“It seems," Xavier told the red-haired woman, "that Jeffrey likes this place very much, if his expression a moment ago was any indication. I believe he just needs some time to adjust."
Mrs. Stoyanovich smiled understanding^ at Jeffrey. “Most of our clients need that time,” she said, "but they take it on the premises." She turned to the professor. "It just amazes me that he was able to travel twenty-some-odd miles to find your school. Obviously, he remembered the route from the last time he was there."
To the professor's knowledge, Jeffrey had never been to Salem Center before in his life. However, he didn’t feel it was either prudent or necessary to tender the woman an explanation.
"Obviously," he replied.
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Mrs. Stoyanovich shook Xavier's hand. "I can’t thank you enough for all your help, Professor. However, it would probably be best if you and your friends didn’t linger too long. We would like to try and get Jeffrey acclimated as quickly as
possible."
"I understand completely," Xavier said. "However, I would like to give Jeffrey something to make him feel more at home here. I promise it won't take more than a few minutes."
The woman considered the request for a moment, then nodded. “I think we can spare that," she replied.
The professor glanced at Warren. "If you don’t mind ... ?"
“Not in the least," said the winged man.
He went back to the van and pulled out a box about a foot square. It was covered with red, white and blue wrapping paper with the name Salem Sporting Goods emblazoned on it.
Mrs. Stoyanovich was obviously curious about the box. However, she didn't press Xavier about its contents.
“You mentioned that you had a basketball court on the grounds," the professor recalled. "Could you show it to me?"
Of course, he already knew where it was. But Xavier couldn't have said that without revealing more than he wanted to.
“Of course," Mrs. Stoyanovich told him.
Then she escorted them all around the side of the main building. Beyond it, there was an asphalt basketball court. It was in excellent condition—even better than the professor remembered.
Jeffrey's eyes lit up when he caught sight of the court. He left the company of his friends and Mrs. Stoyanovich and jogged over to it with unbridled eagerness. Eyeing the nearer
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of the two baskets, he went through a pantomime of dribbling and shooting.
Warren glanced at Xavier. When the professor nodded, he walked over to Jeffrey and gave him the box he was carrying.
Jeffrey looked at it, then at Warren, then at Xavier. It was clear that he didn't know what he was supposed to do with it.
The professor shot him a mental image of his hands removing the wrapping paper and opening the box. Jeffrey frowned a little and took the gift. Then he began doing as the image suggested. When he got a glimpse of what was in the box, his frown turned into a grin.
Ripping the cardboard open the rest of the way, he took out a brand new basketball-one that would last for years, according to the clerk at the sporting goods store. As the wind pushed the wrapping paper and the empty box off the court, Jeffrey bounced the ball on the asphalt surface-one, twice, three times.
Then, without warning, he whirled and dribbled toward the nearer basket. When he got within a few feet of it, he launched himself off the ground, his feet appearing to climb an invisible stair.
Finally, when he reached the apex of his ascent, he tomahawked the ball into the basket. Man and ball reached the ground at about the same time. Grabbing the basketball, Jeffrey turned to Xavier.
The young man was grinning-and not just with happiness. Fie was grinning with gratitude as well.
No, the professor told him telepathically. It is we who are grateful to you, Jeffrey. And I am the most grateful of all.
Jeffrey seemed to absorb Xavier's thought for a moment. Then he turned around and dribbled in the direction of the basket again. His second dunk, which involved a half-spin in mid-air, was even more spectacular than the first.
"Wow," breathed Bobby, genuine awe in his voice. "They can use a guy like that on the Knicks."
"And you'd be his agent, I suppose?" Warren responded.
"I could do worse," Bobby told his teammate.
Mrs. Stoyanovich chuckled. "I see now why it was so important that we have a basketball court, Professor."
"Yes,” said Xavier.
Jeffrey dunked the ball a few more times. Then, still grinning, he sat down on the court and tapped out a rhythm on it. It seemed to the professor that the young man would be all right here.
Goodbye, he told Jeffrey telepathieally. I will come back to visit with you from time to time.
Jeffrey stared at him for a moment. Then, getting to his feet, he tucked his ball under his arm and came over to Xavier.
Before the professor had an inkling of what Jeffrey intended, the younger man bent over and wrapped his free arm around Xavier. Then he hugged him as hard as he could.
The mutant wasn't often inclined to display his emo-tions-especially in public. However, he made an exception this time. Embracing Jeffrey's broad, muscular shoulders, he hugged Jeffrey back.
After a second or two, Jeffrey stood up again and Xavier let him go. Then the professor turned to Mrs. Stoyanovich. "We’ll be leaving now," he announced evenly. "Please keep me informed as to Jeffrey’s progress.”
"I will," the woman promised him.
Taking Jeffrey's arm, she guided him back toward
the main building. Xavier watched them go for a moment, Jef-
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frey still clutching his new basketball. Then he turned to Bobby.
"If you please,” he said.
“Of course," his protege responded, knowing exactly what he meant. Taking hold of the professor's wheelchair, Bobby pushed him back in the direction of their van.
Warren fell in beside them. “There goes a special individual," he observed, pumping a thumb over his shoulder.
Bobby glanced back at Jeffrey. "Very special," he agreed.
"I just hope he realizes how valuable he was,” said Warren. "I hope he has some idea of what a great job he did."
Bobby turned to their mentor. “What do you think, sir?"
Without swiveling in his chair, Xavier plumbed Jeffrey's mind for a second. Then he nodded in response. "Yes, Bobby, I believe he does."
When they reached the van, Bobby wheeled the professor over to the passenger's side door and opened it. Only then did Xavier allow himself a look back at Jeffrey.
He felt a pang as he saw Mrs. Stoyanovich gently guide Jeffrey up the steps of Westminster House. After all, the professor had enjoyed a special link with the fellow. As a result, the professor knew him better than anyone else in the world.
He wasn't able to interpret all of Jeffrey's thoughts, tangled and incomplete as they were. But it was clear to him that the young man felt better about himself now than at any other time in his life.
Xavier was pleased. If anyone had earned the right to feel proud of what he had accomplished over the last few days, it was Jeffrey Saunders.
But Jeffrey wasn't the only one who had come away from the experience with a new perspective. The professor
had been forcibly reminded of something he was sometimes inclined to forget...
“How little a handicap means when one’s spirit refuses to be vanquished," he said out loud.
His X-Men looked at him and smiled.
"Amen to that,” said Bobby.
Yes, thought Xavier. Amen indeed.
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