The morning of Sunday, February 3rd, dawns slightly later than expected, at least in the Graham household, 246 W 30th St. Sadie Graham, mother of two and adorned in a pink bathrobe and mismatched socks, arrives in the kitchen no earlier than half past ten, with a plan to make pancakes.
Midway through the first batch enter Scott, 10, and Kevin, 15, who sit at the table without speaking, presumably still somewhat asleep, until Sadie hands Kevin a plate, his arm promptly turns to ceramics, and he yells: “MOOOOOOOMMMMMM!”
For the past six months Kevin has been experiencing unexpected manifestations of a skin-changing mutation which his mother refers to as his “chameleon charm.” When the Baltimore Polytechnic High School freshman makes contact with certain materials – which, exactly, he is still determining – a portion of his skin from as little as a finger to his entire body takes on the properties of that object.
Kevin was ejected from a lacrosse game last summer when his arms and torso temporarily became aluminum and a collision with another player resulted in that player's breaking four ribs; however, the call was later retracted on the grounds that lacrosse is a dangerous sport to begin with and the injury was not out of the ordinary enough to to merit such an exception.
Kevin was ejected from a lacrosse game last summer when his arms and torso temporarily became aluminum and a collision with another player resulted in that player's breaking four ribs; however, the call was later retracted on the grounds that lacrosse is a dangerous sport to begin with and the injury was not out of the ordinary enough to to merit such an exception.
But this morning in the kitchen, the Graham family is coping with the more emotional frustrations of adjusting to a newly mutant-human mixed household.
“That's it. I'm not touching anything else, ever,” says Kevin, whose arm is rapidly re-humanizing in a fade from shoulder to fingertips. “I refuse to turn into a pancake.”
“Kevin, honey, don't be stupid. You can use a fork,” responds his mother. A heartfelt supporter of mayoral candidate Grace, Sadie Graham admits that though she believes in the mutants-are-people-too mantra, she is often at a loss for how to deal with her own mutant son.
“True, a fork won't solve the problem, but he needs to eat,” Graham explains. “Teenagers.”
Scott, meanwhile, has remained unperturbed, watching the exchange from behind his plate of syrup with pancakes and only pausing in his food-absorption for a moment during Kevin's arm metamorphosis.
“Pick up your fork and take a bite,” Sadie addresses Kevin in a tone turned suddenly hard. For a few seconds, the two elder Grahams glare at one another and Scott takes the chance to serve himself two more pancakes.
“You follow Grace like a sheep,” Kevin finally growls, “But I'm sick of you humans deciding what's best for everyone.”
“Kevin, you watch--”
“--You included. You don't have a clue.”
“Put the pancake in your mouth.”
“You can't force me.”
Sadie reaches for a fork, stabs a stack and leans toward Kevin, who suddenly panics and yells to her not to touch him. Sadie stops and puts the fork down. Kevin is tilted back in his chair, balancing it on two legs.
He falls back and hits his head after Sadie replies, “fine,” loads her spatula with pancakes, and flings them at his face. “Oh Kevin! Honey-- are you alright?”
This time, maybe, turning into a pancake may have been preferable for the mutant teen.
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