A few weeks later...

"I think it looks fantastic. What do you think?"
"Pre-tty da-rn go-od!" Clark spoke in a silly long drawn out accent.

I held up the poster we had made together. Today Clark was the special star in his class, and he had to make a poster all about him and his family. We had worked all yesterday afternoon on it, adding as many pictures as we could find. Lana had helped out as well, which was obvious as now our house was covered in glitter.

Clark was glowing. He couldn't stop smiling he was so excited to be the special star, and get to actually talk about himself and show off pictures of him and his family to his class.

I have to admit I'm slightly nervous about it, but I know Clark won't be revealing anything about his powers, he just wants a chance to let his friends know more about us. I know Clark never takes the chance to talk about himself, and for once, I'm also genuinely excited for him to be able to do that.

As soon as they stepped off the bus, I knew it hadn't gone well. Clark dragged his backpack along the ground, getting dirt all over its front. He didn't walk with Lana and I, but instead hurried home, off in his own world. I glanced over at Lana who was watching him, with from what I could tell, concern.

"Lana."

She didn't hear me, but kept her focus on Clark.

"Lana." I said with a little more emphasis. Trying to keep her eyes on Clark, she turned to me,

"Yes?"

"Did something happen today?"

She didn't answer but turned her head away, her lips pursed tightly.

"Did something happen to Clark?"

Reluctantly, she admitted, "There were some boys teasing him today on the playground."

"Oh. What did they say?"

"They were calling him names. Mean names."

I looked ahead at Clark as he climbed the steps up to our front door. He carried himself lower than normal. His shoulders hung in a constant state of unhappiness. Oh, Clark.

He and Lana didn't play outside that afternoon, even though it was a beautiful day. After they finished their homework they sat on the couch with their crackers and apple juice, and watched cartoons. That might not sound strange, but it was.

Clark and Lana were not the type of children to be content with watching tv for hours on end. Mostly they would run around outside, climbing trees, collecting bugs. Or when they were indoors they would build forts out of couch cushions, spending all day within the confines of their imaginary palaces.

I sat down on the arm of the couch. Lana looked over at me but Clark continued to stare at the tv.
"How did your special star day go?"

He didn't look at me, only muttered, "Okay," under his breath.

"Well, what did your teacher think?"

"She said it was great."

"That's good. Do you want to tell me about it."

"No. Not now."

Lana looked frustrated. If Clark didn't want to talk about something, I didn't want to force him to do it, especially in front of Lana, if it might have to do with his powers.

I sighed and got up to finish off some chores.


"What's wrong sport?"

We were eating dinner, well, Jonathan and I were eating dinner. Clark was apparently building a hill of mashed potatoes, porkchops, and green beans. He also hadn't said a word to us all evening. I hadn't asked him again about what had happened today. Maybe I should have.

Clark licked his lips and set his fork down, while sighing. "Why am I so different?"

Surprised, I sat up straighter, intent on hearing all of Clark's worries. Jonathan paused before putting another bite into his mouth. I wasn't sure what to say next and hated the awkward pause before either of us answered Clark's question.

He looked at us with pleading eyes, begging us to give him the answers. Hoping somehow that what we would say would make the problem go away. I wish it were that easy. I frowned a little. Clark's faith in our omnipotence was unsettling. I had never before known someone who had such complete faith in my abilities, not only as a mother, but as a person. He not only believed that I could do no wrong, but knew it without a doubt. Shaking his confidence on that matter, scared me. Would his love for me falter, even slightly?

I looked at Jonathan, who's mouth was tight, as I could tell he racked his brain for the answer other than the one we had dreaded one day telling Clark. Jonathan attempted to reply,

"Why is anyone different? Clark, the answer is, that we're all different. There's something about all of us that makes us unique and special. And with it, we add something to the world. Can you imagine what kind of world it would be like, if we were all the same? If we all looked the same, spoke the same, acted the same? Nothing would happen. Nothing would progress. Your differences are what keep the world going Clark. What you do with that knowledge, is what matters."

Jonathan seemed to be finished with his speech, and in so doing, let Clark know that the discussion was finished. Clark nodded and quickly began to eat his food.

But I could tell that answer didn't satisfy him. Clark spoke with a restrained voice the rest of the evening, smiled in a tight grin, and more scattered his food around his plate than ate it.


As I was tucking him into bed he asked me, "Mom, why didn't my birth mommy want me?"

I froze. What was I supposed to say? How can I say anything about a woman who sent her young child off into space? I don't know anything about the culture Clark came from. Sometimes I wonder about the life he actually had known before he came here.

There was one night about two years ago when Jonathan and I woke up in the middle of the night to Clark's screams. Not accustomed to being a parent and still half asleep, Jonathan asked,

"What was that?"
"Clark, I think." Immediately I hopped out of bed and hastened towards Clark's room. He was still screaming in his sleep it seemed. I sat down on his bed and put my hand on his head.

"Clark, honey, wake up, wake up, shh, it's alright, it's just a bad dream."

But then he screamed louder and all of a sudden his hand thrashed out and hit his night stand, breaking it in half.

I screamed a little myself and felt Jonathan come up behind me and pull me back. I looked into his eyes for an answer. How were we supposed to help our little child, who we couldn't even get close to? Clark began to thrash around more and began to mangle his headboard and his bed. We ducked as a jagged piece of wood came flying our way.

Jonathan grit his teeth and then called Clark's name out loud. I took his lead and we both began to yell louder and louder for Clark to wake up.

And then, his eyes opened as he looked over at us, his small chest rising up and down quickly, in an attempt to calm himself.
"Clark!" I rushed over and knelt beside his bed, grabbing him into a hug.

"Had a little night terror there, didn't we sport?" Jonathan sat down on the other side of the bed. Clark still a little unsteady looked back and forth between us.

"What were you dreaming about sweetheart?"

Clark swallowed and then looked up at me. In a very small voice he meekly said, "Fire. Earthquakes. Screams. Tears."

My mouth dropped open at his response. Fire? Earthquakes? How would Clark even know how to fear those things? It had been about seven months since we had taken him home. And he had never watched anything like that on tv. And then it struck me. He was thinking of his home. Wherever he had come from, something terrible must have happened.

"Clark, do you remember anything about where you came from?"

Clark thought for a second and then scuffled out of his covers. He walked over to his window and looked out at the star filled sky. He put his hand up on the window, and then turned back to us.

"Not anymore."

Jonathan and I looked at each other. I wondered if Clark really did forget where he came from, or had decided as he stood at there looking into the vast wonders of space, to block any memories of that place.

If something frightening had happened to his parents and they had no alternative but to send Clark away, then my heart just reaches for them. What a terrible fate. How could a mother send her very young son off into the universe by himself? I shiver at the prospect of ever having to do something like that.

And at the idea of Clark being completely and utterly alone soaring through the cold depths of space, when what a child needs more than anything at that age is touch and love. Clark had none of that. I held him closer. And yet, how am I to ever know if anything I imagined is truly what happened. I'm probably far off.

Clark's still earnestly waiting for an answer to his very important question about his mother. I start out slow, not entirely certain where I was headed.

"Sometimes, mommies and daddies can't take care of their children, so they let them be adopted. That way they can become a wonderful part of their families. Like you're a wonderful part of ours. I'm happy everyday when I know you're part of our family. I'm sure your birth mommy loved you very much. And I love you very much. You know that don't you?"

I ask as I start tickling him. He giggles and speedily crawls under the covers hiding from me. "Alright, I'm coming in." I reach under the covers and start tickling him. He laughs so lightheartedly, it makes my spirits soar.

"Okay!" He pants. "Okay, Mommy, I know, I know!" We laugh as I fall backwards on his bed and he snuggles up close to me.

As we catch our breath I ask him. "Clark, is there something you want to tell me?"
He doesn't answer right away, but eventually he says, "There are some mean boys in my class."
"What happened?"
"When I was showing my special star poster, they laughed. The teased me on the playground. They laughed at me and asked me why I'm always playing with Lana, and not playing sports or tag with them. They called me a freak. They called me an alien."

I gasped at the harshness Clark had received. And I couldn't help but think it was my fault. And Jonathan's. We told Clark not to run around on the playground, or to play any rough sports. We're still afraid. It's not at all that we don't trust him. We know that there's not a mean bone in Clark's body, but he does seem to have his accidents. I didn't want him to be playing rough with other boys until he's got a better hold on his abilities.

"And I didn't have a baby picture, and I told them I was adopted. They said my real mommy didn't want me so she threw me away."

Clark looked up at me and was startled to find tears coming down my cheeks. Oh, Clark, how could they be so cruel? I held him tighter as I tried to stop crying.

"Clark, I'm sure she wanted you very much. And loved you more than anything in the world. But something must have happened so she wasn't able to keep you."

I wiped my eyes. Clark turned his head to me, and surprised me because he was smiling slightly.
"But you kept me, didn't you Mommy?"
I smile, laughing through my tears. "That's right. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
He smiles bigger and hugs me. I hold on to him, remembering those first few nights after the meteor shower.


We were not so sure about keeping Clark then.

I had wanted him with all my heart and soul. But the truth was that we had discovered a boy who had fell from the sky, with a spaceship, and incredible strength and speed. We certainly weren't the most qualified people to raise him.
We stayed up late nights trying to decide what to do. Who to tell, who to take the boy to. But I couldn't. I had fallen in love with him, even naming him after my family's name. Clark.

And it wasn't just the cherubic little face that held my loyalty so well. It was each little grasp of my hand. Every little grin he gave me. Every second he was in my arms. He was my child and I knew it. His birth parents weren't looking for him. A lab would be no place for him. His place was in the Kent home. On that fact Jonathan and I both agreed.

It was only until later, when Jonathan told me, he had decided he was going to take Clark and hand him over to a lab because he thought we wouldn't be able to handle him, let alone raise him right. He hadn't told me because he knew I had already fallen in love and would never let Clark go.

He had actually taken the time one day and set Clark in the truck while he had climbed into the drivers seat. He had looked over at Clark who was wearing one of Jonathan's blue plaid shirts and playing with a little toy dog. He grinned at Jonathan.

Jonathan told me as he looked at Clark sitting on the passenger seat it struck him. Clark was his son. And no one would be able to raise him but us.

We may not be what the world would call qualified to raise a child as special as this. But we know this is where Clark belongs, and where he can be loved.