A/N: Hi readers, if there are any. I've had the first part of this chapter for a while, but it didn't feel complete without the second part.
Chapter 2: Publications and Pen Pals
The Smallville High cafeteria was awash with crimson and gold leftovers from Spirit Week festivities. The quarterback sat at his, usual table with his team, but lacking his former-cheerleader girlfriend. Yes, they were still an item, but she'd quit the squad, and was spending more time with Clark Kent and his friends. They were being called the "Torch Four" now: Clark Kent, Pete Ross, Chloe Sullivan, and Lana Lang.
It's not that he blamed Lana for her distance. His team had used a football tradition to assault the guy who walked her home in the dark. She'd lost faith in the people she used to call friends, and maybe even Whitney himself.
"Another Reprint?!" Dustin tossed the copy of the Torch onto the floor.
"What's with you, Crenshaw?" Whitney asked the other player.
"You should ask Lana what's with the 'Flaming Crows Feet' strip. There hasn't been a new one since Homecoming." He ground his foot into the rumpled pages. "That was the best part of that rag."
"For your information the artist and writer had to leave school. There was an article in this week's edition." They looked up to see the blond editor without her usual sardonic smile.
"Well that sucks. He was the only writer with real talent. Good luck replacing him." Dustin sat back in his chair.
"I can't believe you!" Chloe slammed her hand onto their table. "Justin Gains was nearly killed, and that best you have is 'that sucks'?"
"Chloe," Lana draped her arm around the smaller girl. "Don't let him get to you."
"Almost sounds like you're on her side, Lana." Dustin accused.
"Hey, Crenshaw, shut up." Whitney warned.
"There are no sides here, Dustin." Lana sighed and started to guide Chloe away.
The other player turned bak to his team captain, "I know she's your girl, but I'd watch out Fordman. You know what everyone says about Crazy Sullivan."
"No, I don't, and I don't want you to tell me either." Whitney grabbed his backpack and tray, he dumped the half-eaten lunch, and left the cafeteria.
He walked down the mostly empty hall in search of his girlfriend. He spotted the school paper's door ajar, and poked his head inside. Sullivan sat in front of her computer, but Lana was nowhere in sight. Whitney withdrew to shut the door, but was met with surprised green eyes.
"Looking for something Whitney?" the blonde pivoted in her chair.
"Yeah, I was looking for Lana."
"Well, she left to go find you, so I guess we're both out of luck." The editor sighed and went back to her screen.
Whitney stepped inside, and looked down at the back of her head. He saw that she was working on an email. "Hey, I'm sorry what they said about your boyfriend."
"My what?" Chloe turned bak to him. "You mean Justin? He's just a friend. No, I don't usually like guys that way."
"Usually?" Whitney raised his eyebrows.
Her cheeks and nose tinged pink, "I have a soft spot for tall brunettes with big smiles."
"You mean Clark Kent," Whitney supplied. "What about the rest of the time?"
Chloe bit her lip, "I still have a thing for brunettes."
Whitney blinked, and watched her expression shift from worry to terror in a matter of seconds.
"You have nothing to worry about, Whitney. Lana is straight, and..."
He held up his hand, "No, I don't think you'd do that. Believe me jealousy has gotten me in a lot of trouble lately. I threaten Greg Arkin and end up with a wrecked truck and kidnaped girlfriend for my trouble. I'm just surprised you're telling me is all."
"I wanted you to find out from me, not one of your closed minded teammates."
Chloe sighed, "I wanted to tell you myself that I'm not trying to steal her from you. I know she's out of my league."
"Well, thanks, I guess." He shook his head, "Just give me a heads up before you go crazy and decide to abduct her, alright?"
She smiled for the first time since he'd walked in, "that's a deal."
A beep alerted her that she had a new message. Both their eyes flicked to the screen automatically, and he saw that it was from Justin Gains.
"So, you're still in contact with him. How's he doing?"
Chloe looked back up at him, "You and Justin shared a hospital room." She shuffled through her desk and retrieved a pen and green apple shaped notepad. she quickly scribbled and tore it off. "Why don't you ask him yourself? I'm sure he'd enjoy hearing from more than just me."
"You mean you're the only person who's checking in on him?" Whitney took the paper and tucked it into his lettermen jacket.
"That's what the nurse who transcribes his emails says." Her green eyes wavered from sudden moisture.
"What's up?" He put his hand on her shoulder.
"Justin lost the ability to move his hands. His parents took him to a specialist in Metropolis, but it's not clear if he'll ever have full function back."
"Poor guy," He involuntarily flexed his fingers imagining how that loss would change a person. He reached into his pocket again, "I'll send him an email. Thanks, Chloe."
"No problem, and thank you, for being so understanding about the whole Lana thing."
"Hey, you were honest with me. That's a lot more than Kent's done." The bell rang for the end of lunch, and the hall outside filled with voices and lockers.
"See you later Chloe."
Later that night Whitney threw his jacket at his desk chair and missed. The quarterback sighed, and walked the dozen steps to hang it on the chair. A crumpled bit of green ghosted to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, and examined the crimson letters; the_flaming_crow hotmail . com. Sullivan probably used her editing pen.
His stapler was employed as a paperweight, and he turned from the desk again. Whitney walked over to the unmade bed and grabbed his Metropolis University pajama pants and clean boxers from a drawer. He left the room with thoughts of what he should write running through his head.
Hi Gains, Sullivan gave me your email.
Hi, it's Whitney Fordman, the Crows quarterback. We shared a hospital room the night after your accident.
Hey artist-man we miss your work at The Torch.
He got back to his room fifteen minutes later. He was only sure that he didn't know what to say, but he felt he had to say something. He knew he'd want to hear from more than one person if he were in Gains' position. I'd go crazy stuck in a hospital that long with nothing to do.
He clicked Compose Mail and typed in the address.
From: sharks . Fan 83 yahoo . com
To: the_flaming_crow hotmail . com
Subject: Hi From Smallville
Hi Justin,
This is Whitney Fordman. We shared a hospital room after your accident last week. Well your editor gave me your email, and told me she was your only connection to the outside world. She's great, but I know I'd want more than Torch exclusives for entertainment.
If there's anything I can do from here to make your stay easier, or anything you want me to keep you informed about, just let me know.
Your former cell-mate,
Whitney F.
Whitney stared at the screen for a couple of minutes before he clicked Send and put the computer into sleep mode for the night.
A/N: I'm not sure about Chloe's confession to Whitney this early. It just kind of happened, and I couldn't figure a way to fit the conversation in later.
If you read this please let me know what you think. The lack of feedback is discouraging, but I fully intend to keep going.
