All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. Jake and his family are my own creation. I'm not trying to make any money off this, I just love writing. So, if you want to write a fanfic involving Jake or his family, you need my permission first.

It was a year or so later that my life finally got better. I'd been thrown out of my old school, but that was perfectly okay. Mom was teaching me herself, at least until we found me a new school.
"Okay, Jake. And when did the citizens of Paris storm the Bastille?"
"That's easy, Mom. July fourteenth, seventeen eighty-nine."
I'd been studying hard. Just to spite my old man. He told me that I wasn't good for anything. I hated that. I had reasons to, didn't I? He hated me. He blamed my being a mutant on my mother, and then he disowned me. I had reasons not to like him very much.
"That's good, Jake. You're doing great!"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm trying to."
I was twelve now, and in my first few months of junior high. Home school, that is. No junior high in all of Arizona wanted a mutant for a student. That meant this was the only option.
It was just the three of us. Me, Mom, and my older brother, Josh. Josh was eightteen now, and working. He owned a comic shop here in Phoenix, but was hoping for a new location.

Anyway, my powers were a lot easier to control now. I was older, and could channel it more easily. I'd learned that I could fly with this new power, and that was just the beginning.
When Mom found me in my room that afternoon, I was listening to misic on my CD player. The strannge part was, I was doing loops around the room, as the music played. It seemed like my whole body was surrounded by a orange-yellow aura. It was wonderful. And fun, too.
She was always happy to see me enjoying my abilities. She could remember, I knew, how I'd wanted to die the day Dad left. She remembered how I'd tried to cut my own throat with the steak knife. I regretted that now. I was happy for what I had now. I was happy.

"Hi Mom."
"Hi Jake. You busy?"
I flipped right-side-up, and then landed on my bed. "Not at all."
"Good." She looked at me nervously, as if she didn't know how to tell me this. "I was hoping.....to start dating again." She looked like she expected me to get upset. I did the exact opposite.
"Sure, Mom. Your life." She put her hands on her hips as if she was about to scold me, and then smiled.
"I expected you to go ballistic. Most kids do."
"I ain't most kids, and you ain't most moms." I smiled. "I love you, Mom. But I don't want to control your life. I'll let you know if the guy passes the test." She grinned, and then hugged me.
"You're a really good kid." I smiled right back at her. I was proud of myself. Few kids can honestly say they don't mind if their moms start dating again. In fact, I don't think any can. But I like to let people live their own lives, and have their own opinions. I guess that's the way I am.

It was that night that I met the first date. He was an interesting guy. Mom told me she knew him from school. I was sure they were just old friends, and that I shouldn't get my hopes up.
As we drove towards his apartment complex in Tempe, Mom and I decided to talk about it."
"Jake, John is a good friend of mine. I'm sure you'll like him. He's a doctor...."
"Mom, I know. If you're happy, that's all that matters. Why do I have to get involved?"
She hugged me. "It's your life now, too. You and me. And whatever decisions I make have to be an agreement."
"Sure." I smiled, as she turned her attention back to the freeway.

Dr. John Thompson was a really nice guy, I soon discovered. He and my mother looked like they had a lot of catching up to do, so I left them alone. I just sat in the middle seat of the minivan, while he helped Mom into the passenger seat.
Oops. I fogot to mention my mother is confined to a wheelchair. She lost her legs during a hurricane. It all happened during the Vietnam War.
That's a long story.

"This is my son, Jake," I heard her say, and I shook myself back into reality.
"Hello." I extended my hand, which was starting to glow. "Oh," I said as I pulled it behind my back. He watched, and then reached for it.
"It's okay," he said. "Don't worry."
"You know?"
"You're a mutant? Of course. You were on the news."
I expected him to get up and leave, but he didn't. He just held my glowing hand in his own until the light faded. I felt much better.
Right after that first date, I went to Mom and said to her, "He'll do."

That was the first date, of many. They went out together for almost a year and a half. During the summer of that year, I was sent off to a summer camp, but only for a week.
When I returned, Mom was in such a good mood, and John was sleeping on the sofa each night! That had me worried, I must admit.
But a while later, she called me to her. "Jake, I have something to tell you."
I interrputed, "Oh, no. You ain't sending me off to another summer camp are you? That's a fate worse than death."
She got a stern look, and I was afraid for a moment. "No, I am not. Can I finish?"
"Sure, Mom. You were saying?"
She smiled, running her fingers through my hair. "John and I have been dating for eightteen months. That's about long enough, I think. He and I....."
He came off the sofa, to reveal a ring on his finger. "...are getting married."
I gasped theatrically. "Oh?"
"We needed to know if it was all right with you. It's your life too."
Adults sure have been nicer since they found out I was a mutie, I thought. Imagine if I got on Sally! "Sure, Mom, John. That's okay with me."

A few days later, I discovered how he had proposed. He played piano, and was a good singer. It turned out Mom had gotten sick while I was away. He had come, and sang to her. He sang a song to her, a real lubby-dubby love song. She loved it. And then he did the whole one-knee thing. You know the drill.
The wedding would be at a chapel in Mesa, Arizona. A big church. Mutants were welcome, so I guess I was involved. But the wedding would be in a year. Almost. Long time to wait.
The only other big change was that John was moving in with us. I would have a real father now.
I was convinced. Could it get better?

It didn't. During the days I spent recovering from my dad, I had taken on a whole new identity, a new image. I grew my hair longer, and spent more time out of the house, taking long walks, and sometimes flights. These always relaxed me.
But on the day after Mom and I picked out my tux, some kids confronted me, on the street.
"Hey mutie. Remember us?"
I shook my head. "Excuse me, please."
A black kid stopped me. "No way, ya freak."
That ticked me off. My eyes lit up. I was ticked now.
One of the kids lunged at me, punching me in the stomach. "Get his wallet!" I heard him shout. I struggled, but there was no escape. I never carried money with me anyway.
But they weren't on me for money. They attacked me because they hated my kind. But I was just as human as they were, wasn't I?
"Get.....off!!" I shouted, as a sphere of energy epupted around me. the kids were stunned, so I started to fly away. But I wasn't free yet.
"Aaaah!" I shouted, falling to the ground. The kid had thrown a knife. It had sliced into my right side. I was hurt pretty bad.
I fell in a streak of yellow and orange, along with the dark red of the blood. I hit the ground hard. I was bleeding, but I'd be all right.

The wound healed, but the scar never left me. For the rest of my life, I'll have that scar as a reminder. A reminder of two things: How cruel my generation could be, and second: Never turn your back on anyone you don't trust.
Ever.

Another Portal - Back to the Void