1990 - The Protector
Pamela was just beginning to collect Alexander's laundry when he slammed the door open, dropping his book bag on the floor and throwing himself facedown onto the bed.
She frowned, putting down his hamper and coming over to place a hand on his shoulder. "Alexander?"
"Leave me alone!"
"Alexander, that is not how you speak to me." The years had taught her that a no-nonsense approach worked best with him, even and especially if he was upset. "Now, you can sit up and talk to me about what's wrong, or you can politely tell me you'd rather talk about it later after you've had a chance to cool down. Which is it going to be?"
He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "My father sent me up here."
Chills ran down Pamela's spine. They both knew exactly what that meant. "What happened?"
"I . . . cheated on a test. And got caught."
She raised her eyebrows as a mix of emotions flooded through her. She could feel his fear of his father's wrath, and she felt coursing anger with Lionel for the way the boy trembled. But her dominant emotion surprised her. It was disappointment. He was a good kid, for the most part, and it hurt to know that the boy she'd put so much work into raising had done something so dishonest.
Pamela knew all too well what would happen now. Lionel would take his belt to his son—not for cheating, but for getting caught. His mother would clean, ice, and bandage the stripes across his back, never speaking about the incident that lead up to it. Her reasoning was that his father's abuse was punishment enough.
In the days that followed a beating, he was all but impossible to deal with. When he was younger, he used to fidget in his chair and whine about the pain and even occasionally burst into tears—though he only behaved that way when she was trying to get him to do his homework. These days, far from avoiding the infraction that had earned the punishment, Lex tended to repeat it on purpose, getting better about not getting caught, at least by Lionel. Between the trauma and never actually learning from his mistakes, the boy was going to be an absolute terror in his teens, and possibly even after.
Maybe she could do something about it. Despite all appearances, Lionel Luthor wasn't a sadist, not really. He truly believed a firm hand was the best approach to parenting, and that Alexander's mother would coddle him if he didn't step in. From what Pamela could tell, his one objection to beating his son was the time it took out of his day.
But if he arrived to the impression that the situation was under control . . .
Pamela drew herself up to her full height. "Cheating on a test?"
"Yeah."
"Alexander Joseph Luthor, I am terribly disappointed."
The boy cringed.
"You're a very smart boy. Why did you feel the need to cheat? Did you not study for the test?"
"I—I did, but it was harder than I thought it would be."
"Then you do your very best, and you ask your teacher how you can improve for the next test. I don't ever, ever want to hear about you cheating again, young man."
"I won't, I'm sorry!"
"You certainly won't." Pamela caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye—Lionel stood just outside the door. She called to him, "Mr. Luthor, permission to ground the boy?"
Lionel's eyes widened, and he tripped over his words at first. "Ah—"
"Did you hear what Alexander did?"
"Yes. He was caught cheating," Lionel said.
"Do you not believe he deserves to spend the weekend indoors with no screens?"
"What?" Alexander jumped up from his bed. "Dad, no!"
Lionel looked from his son, to Pamela. His eyes scrutinized her, and she willed herself to show the anger she felt with Alexander rather than the fear she felt under Lionel's gaze.
Finally, the man nodded. "Do as you see fit," he said, and he left the room.
Pamela felt the tension drain from her back, but she forced her eyes to narrow as she looked down at the boy. "Did the school assign a consequence?"
"I get a zero for the test, and they called my father. And I have detention on Monday after school."
"Well, you have detention here, too. Get out a piece of paper and a pen. You're going to write an apology letter to your teacher about the importance of honesty and studying, and you're going to give it to her on Monday."
Alexander sniffed and went over to kneel in front of his book bag.
"This weekend, you're going to start by studying for the test you failed. Then you're going to be writing two hundred lines for me. I am an honest and hardworking student. That's two hundred times, do you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am." He sighed and took the paper and pen to his desk. "I'm really sorry."
She softened her voice a little. "You are always forgiven. And I will always love you. You're a good kid, Alexander. It's very upsetting when you don't act like it."
His eyes shone as he slid his chair up to the desk. He held his pen at the ready and glanced toward his doorway, then back up at Pamela. "Thank you," he mouthed.
She nodded and came over to kiss him on the top of his head, then she straightened up and raised her voice again. "I want that letter to be sincere. Am I understood?"
He nodded, wiping his eyes, and he bent over the paper to write.