Fate
Chapter One:
It was always nerve-wracking, starting at a new place. And if any place was the epitome of intimidating, it was Metropolis High. Clark Kent walked down the busy hallway, managing to bump into every single person that passed him. He waved to a few of them, saying "Hi" in a voice that still had a hint of puberty's great affect in it, but stopped after they all just ignored him. It seemed that all the students here had gotten the memo that Clark Kent was a person to disregard.
Clark didn't in particularly miss Smallville. It was a town worthy of its name, tiny in size and variety. The population alone was only six hundred and thirty-three, less than twenty-five percent of them being high school age. And out of them, Clark had never been able to find someone to at least call an acquaintance. There were two groups at Smallville's high school: jocks who were conceited and wanted nothing to do with him, and those who were too scared to stand up to the jocks, so they ignored Clark, too. Whatever he had ever done to deserve such a fate, Clark would never know.
Moving to Metropolis had seemed like a second chance for him. Martha, his mother, had decided to move here after his father died from cardiac arrest to look for a job in the city. They moved in a tiny apartment hardly able to be called a room, but it was worth it, to live here. The buildings either came in tall or taller, so much different from the flat, rolling farms of his hometown. Finally, Clark could change his short-lived, pathetic life into something greater. He imagined himself walking in school and adored by those around him, everyone begging to be his friend. Of course, he was modest, and would refuse the compliments and gifts from those in awe of his magnificence.
All his daydreams had been dashed when he arrived his first day. You could change the setting, but you couldn't change the character. Clark was still the same bumbling, geeky guy that he'd been in Smallville. Did he really expect people to fall at his feet? He supposed he didn't, at least not the whole worshiping thing. That was a little dramatic.
"Sorry," he mumbled as he collided with a punk-looking girl, shrinking back as she sneered at him. One thing he could say that met his expectations: Metropolis was huge. There had to be at least eight hundred kids here, much more than the whole city of Smallville. It was an interesting experience studying all the different cliques that Clark had missed out on. Very interesting.
The bell rang at 7:30; it was 7:23 now. Clark hastened to find his locker, number one-twenty-one, and quickly twirled the combination on his lock. It gave a satisfying click, and he pulled the books and pencils he needed for his first class of Algebra II.
On right of him, a tall, thin girl rushed up and pulled her own locker open. He couldn't see past the lead, locker door, but even from the back of her head, Clark knew she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Her hair was black as ink, curling into wavy locks that floated gently to the middle of her back. Peering around the door, he saw her digging through her locker, searching for something.
The girl saw him out the corner of her eye. She turned her whole face to him—it was as lovely as he thought. Great, inquisitive brown eyes bore into him. He could see a million questions churning inside them.
"Are you staring at me?" she asked bluntly.
"Um, well, I was looking at you. I didn't mean to stare." Clark turned his eyes to the floor, no longer able to look at her.
"Well, whether you meant to or not, it was still staring. But I suppose I can forgive you," she paused, taking a long, speculative look at him. "What's your name?"
"Clark Kent," he stuttered, "I just moved here."
"Oh, I would've never guessed," she sighed, already moving on to another thought. The raven-haired girl slammed her locker and walked away, parting through the crowd like she was a goddess.
For some reason, Clark couldn't let her walk away, not without at least knowing her name. He went after her, knocking into nearly every student possible and giving at least a thousand apologies. The girl was already many feet away, completely oblivious that he was trying to catch up with her. With a shove, he pushed through the mass, and jogged after her into a smaller, less-crowded hall.
He raised his hand, as if that would get her attention. "Hey! Hey wait!"
Thankfully, the girl turned around, glancing around for the person who'd called her. Out of breath, he ran up to her, leaning on his knees for support. "Wait."
She looked at him in surprise. "Ah, hey, um—,"
"Clark," he heaved, "You—you never told me your name."
The girl blushed, like roses against ivory. "Oh! My name. I'm Lois, Lois Lane."
He lifted one of his hands from his knees and held it out to her. "It's nice to meet you, Lois."
Lois shook it, albeit hesitantly; her hand was smooth and tiny inside of his, almost fragile. When she quickly let go, Clark dropped his arms to his side, wondering what to say in the Awkward Silence.
Lois began to back away, clutching her books to her chest. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but, I've kind of got to go."
"What class do you have?" he asked hopefully.
"Mr. Reeve—World History," she said. Clark's heart sank.
"Oh, well, I have Algebra, so,"
"Yeah." Lois smiled, little dimples crinkling on the edges of both her cheeks. It made her look shy and innocent, a creature that didn't quite belong to this world. And like that, she walked away, not even a goodbye given. Clark stood there, dumbfounded, and stared at the ghost of her presence.
"I guess I'll see you around," he said to the empty air. Just then, the bell rang. Scrambling to find his class, Clark searched through the hall and walked into the room, not having a moment to spare.
The first twenty minutes of class were spent thinking about Lois. She was by far the most beguiling girl he'd ever met. Clark liked that word—beguiling. It seemed to infer both how fascinated and confused he was by her at the same time. She was like one of the puzzle boxes he used to try to solve as a kid: a thousand possibilities, but only one solution. And the greatest mystery of all that was she had actually talked with him, like he was an actual person instead of the measly speck kids usually viewed him as. Clark would've been content to try and decipher the conundrum all day, but when his math teacher asked him a question he had no idea how to answer, he admitted to himself he should probably try to focus on the class instead. He sat and listened dutifully to mostly everything that Mr. Simmers said.
The rest of the day was much of the same. Nothing extraordinary occurred (unless you wanted to count the cafeteria's cole slaw that could very well be radioactive; Clark felt sick just looking at it), no one gave a hoot of a care for him, and he never saw Lois again. Fate, like always, kept its cruel and unusual relationship with him and refused to let anything good happen to Clark. So much for a new start. Maybe it was too much to imagine that for once he could fit in at school. It wasn't like he was a superhero. Now that he thought about it, though, most superheroes weren't liked very much in their secret identities anyway, so that wouldn't have really helped.
It seemed a miracle when the release bell finally rang. A flood of students came through the halls, only making it more difficult for people like Clark to get by. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had been moving backwards instead of in the right direction. Suddenly, the lack of balance threw Clark off, and he tumbled into the person standing behind him.
"Sorry! Sorry!" he cried, turning to face whoever he had fallen on, "It was an accident, I—,"
To his utter shock, it was Lois Lane, in all her ethereal beauty. Her lips pushed into a smile as she helped him to his feet. "You swear, I know. That's what they all say."
Clark brushed off his t-shirt, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Gee, I really am sorry, Lois."
She laughed, a peal of bells. "Don't be. It's called sarcasm, Kent. Most of the world speaks it."
The hallways had thinned significantly now, only a few kids stranded here and there. Lois and Clark walked slowly through it, speaking in voices that echoed through the empty space.
"So," Lois continued, "How was your first day of school?" She bent her head down, peaking up with her eyes in a way that was unbearably cute.
He blushed again. "Oh, well, it was a first day, I suppose."
"Ha! Fair explanation, Kent. I'd like to say that all the other days are better than the first, but they're not."
"Oh, I'm sure it won't be so bad," Clark lied, "You don't seem to have much trouble."
Lois rolled her eyes in a cynical, sardonic way that was very natural for her. "Yeah, that's because I stay out of it. More of a third-person, objective kind of view."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"I work for the school newspaper," she said proudly, "I get to see all the trouble, while maintaining a completely clean record at the same time."
"Bravo," said Clark, "If only we all could be so fortunate."
It was quiet for a moment, both of them thinking of what to say. Lois stared pensively; biting her lip as she contemplated whatever thoughts it was that occupied her head.
"You know, Mr. White is looking for another reporter on staff. You could come by and talk to him about joining the paper, if you wanted," she said.
"Me? Write on the paper?" Clark said in an incredulous tone, "I don't think I could do it."
"Sure you can. It's just as easy as following a recipe. All you do is write what you see around you, as long as you do it in a way that people would want to read, of course."
"I don't know. Don't you have to be aggressive to be a good reporter?" he asked.
"Well, it certainly does help," Lois, said, then after consideration, "but it doesn't mean that you still can't be great. All you need to be a good reporter is to tell the world like it really is, and I think you can do that."
Clark's heart beat in irregular rhythms. "You really think so?"
"Of course!" she said quickly. "Look—here's the Office. That's what we call the classroom the staff works in." She led him in through a shuttered door that said in bold letters: Metropolis High School Newspaper.
"Not a catchy name, I know. We're in the works of creating a new one," Lois said.
Clark would've answered, but it was so noisy inside the Office, he doubted she would've heard him. There were about twenty to twenty-five students, all typing furiously on square computers, some even working on ancient typewriters that had dust covering the keys. Every click and word was loud and distinct in his ears; he was feeling claustrophobic already. Lois seemed at home, though, speaking to the writers and issuing commands like it was nothing.
"Smile!" a cheery voice said. Clark spun around, and was blinded by the flash of an old camera—the kind that could literally make it impossible to see for a period of time. He took off his glass and rubbed at his eyes, trying to make the lights go away.
"Ah, sorry about that," the voice said. Clark replaced his glasses and saw a curly-headed boy with a bowtie on his button-up shirt. He had one of those infectious smiles that somehow could make anyone want to smile, too. In his hand, there was a large camera strapped around his neck.
He noticed Clark looking at it. "Yeah, it's a little outdated. My uncle gave it to me when he was going through all the junk in his house. Actually, he had a lot of cool stuff," he caught himself from his train of thought and remembered Clark, "My name's Jimmy Olsen."
Clark shook his hand and smiled. "Clark Kent."
Jimmy gave his natural smile, and said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent! Did you come here to ask for that open position?"
"Yeah, actually, I came here with Lois—" he turned to where she was, but there was nothing but the empty water stand. "Lois?" Clark called.
"Ah, Lois," said Jimmy, pulling on the straps of his camera, "Here one moment, and gone the next."
You've got that right, Clark wanted to say. He searched for Lois's dark hair in the room, but didn't see anyone that matched her image. He wondered how she could've disappeared so fast. It only added to the list of mysterious things that she did.
"Here, why don't I take you to Mr. White's room. If she's anywhere, it'd be there," said Jimmy, walking towards a white door in the back of the room.
"Thanks, Jimmy," said Clark in sincerity.
"No problem, Mr. Kent!" he smiled, "Mr. White's right in there." He pointed through the door.
Nodding, Clark turned the rusted handle slowly, and peered through the tiniest crack he could manage. Lois was in there, all right, arguing with a balding man as he scribbled notes onto a pad.
"All that I'm saying is that it could be a really great story, Chief!" Lois cried, grasping her hands in the air, "The school deserves to know the truth about what kind of people are running our education!"
"Lane, I've told you once, and I've told you twice. If we want to get technical, I've probably told you fifty-seven times," the man said, "Kids don't like to read stories about education. And, it would be out a line as a teacher to permit you to write about one of our staff's personal life."
Lois began to cry, "But Chief!" just as Clark cleared his throat, opening the door wider so he could step in. For a moment, Lois looked infuriated at him, her face a bright red, but then she calmed down, and said in a tired voice, "Chief, this is Clark Kent. He's here to talk about the open position."
"Yes, yes," the man said, standing up from his desk, hands behind his back. The Chief came right up to Clark's face, staring at him with wrinkled eyes. "Ever done any writing, boy?"
"Well, sir," Clark stammered, shying away from the man, "E-everyone's done a bit of writing."
"Fair enough," he said, walking back to his desk, "If this were a real paper, I would ask to read something that you're written, but since this is just school, and we're limited on sane people, I'll spare you the embarrassment."
"And?" Lois said with impatience.
Mr. White plopped into his black, leather chair. "Clark, you're in. You start tomorrow after school."
A rush of relief filled Clark, even though he hadn't known he was nervous at all. Smiling, he said, "Thank you, Chief, uh, Mr. White."
"Chief will do," he said offhandedly. "Now, you two go and do something useful."
With one bitter glance, Lois left the room, slamming the door shut in front of Clark. He opened and tiptoed out of Mr. White's office, running to catch up with Lois' breakneck pace.
"I can't believe it!" she cried.
"I know," said Clark as he walked next to her into the main part of Office, "I can't believe Chief gave me the job, either."
Lois glanced up at him with a dazed glance, "Oh, I wasn't even thinking about that. Congratulations." There wasn't any real enthusiasm in her voice.
"What were you thinking about, Lois?" he asked.
Grabbing a plastic cup from the stack, she lifted the tab and filled it with water from the jug. "It's nothing. Chief just won't let me do this story because he thinks it would be to 'inappropriate.' What's wrong with giving people the truth?" she said to really no one at all.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with that."
His comment caught her off-guard, and Lois stared at him with her curious, brown eyes. She blushed roses again, and looked down into her cup. "Well, thanks Clark. And I really am glad you're on the paper. You'll do fantastic."
"I hope so. I'm really looking forward to it," he said, not referring to the writing part.
Lois tossed her cup into the trash bin next to the wall. "Well, I'd better get busy. Chief will kill me if I don't get started on some editorial about the cole slaw in the cafeteria," she rolled her eyes, "Says that thirty-five kids have gotten food poisoning after eating it."
"I believe it," Clark said quite seriously, "I was feeling queasy after lunch, and I didn't even eat it."
Laughing, Lois sat down at one of the computers, booting it up with the press of a button. "I'll see you tomorrow, Clark."
"Goodbye, Lois," he said, though she was already lost in her writing.
Clark left the Office, and ambled down the now-empty hallway, whistling to himself. Maybe Fate wasn't so cruel, after all.
Author's Note: This is what happens after you watch four of the Superman movies and start researching about the history of the 'man of steel.' Any comments and critiques are very welcome, as I'm sure I made plenty of mistakes. I really enjoyed writing this, though, so I hope whoever reads it enjoys, too.
Disclaimer: Superman belongs solely to DC Comics, no matter how much I wish he were mine.