"Who do you think told me?" Lana snapped. There was a pause. "No, he's not. He went home." They were talking about him now, and she had just lied to Whitney. My fault, he thought. Add it to the list. He squinted slightly, and looked through the living room wall. Lana was pacing violently in the kitchen, hair flying, hand pressed to the phone. "No! How could you do this to me, Whitney- no, you listen. How could you do this to my friend?" Clark shifted, heart aching.

Lana put a hand to her forehead. "Whitney, I really don't want to hear your excuses. I'm feeling… I'm feeling a little unreasonable right now," she said, her voice filled with tremors, "so I'm going to hang up, and when I get to school tomorrow, you had better- you had better," She was raising her voice, presumably against his protests, "be able to explain… everything!" She took the phone away from her ear and pressed a button viciously. Clark quickly took his eyes away and tried to act like he was doing something else as she came through the doorway.

"I'm sorry," she said, brushing hair away from her eyes. "Temper tantrum over." She smiled thinly.

"I should really go," he said, turning halfway towards the door.

"Please stay," Lana said. He froze in his tracks. He was becoming alarmed- he didn't know why she had turned so strange. He didn't like it. "Please. I really want to make up for what Whitney did and I know I can't make it better, but-" She looked at him, half hopeful, face flushed from her anger. "Will you stay for dinner?"

His mouth opened. He tried to say something. His throat had frozen and he couldn't tell her that he wanted to stay, that he wanted to stay forever but he couldn't do it and feel right.

"Please," she said. "I know I'm being stubborn, but… bear with me?"

What could he do? He couldn't say no to that upturned, beautiful countenance.

Dinner was awkward and uncomfortable. Nell didn't know why Lana was upset, and she wasn't going to ask while Clark was around. Lana wasn't going to tell her, either, and so after a phone call to the bewildered but acquiescent Kents, Clark was eating chicken stir-fry with Lana and Nell.

"So," Nell tried, after an eerie silence, "how have you been, Clark? How's school treating you?"

"Fine," he said. His food was mostly untouched. "School's fun."

"That's good to hear," she said, smiling wider than necessary. "Most kids these days hate everything about school… and life," she joked.

Lana and Clark laughed half-heartedly.

Nell put down her fork. "All right. It's none of my business, but what is going on? As a parent, I hate feeling out of the loop."

Lana swallowed and shrugged. "Whitney was a jerk at Clark's expense. I haven't decided whether to forgive him or not yet."

Nell raised her eyebrows. "So you're keeping Clark within arm's reach until you know what to do with him?" Her tone was light, but Clark heard the tiny rebuke.

Lana looked at her aunt frankly. "What Whitney did was nearly unforgivable." Clark started to protest, but she cut him off. "I'm just trying to…" she searched for the words. "Pay reparations, in a way. I'm sure Clark doesn't mind."

They both looked at him. "Oh," he said. He looked down at his plate. "Wouldn't want to miss out on this food," he joked weakly. His laugh was water-thin and he felt severely self-conscious.

"All right then," said Nell, recognizing a dead-end when she saw one. "We'll talk about it later."

Lana just took another bite with a glance at Clark.

The rest of dinner was uncomfortable and tense. Clark never thought that spending an hour with Lana would have been so unpleasant. When everyone was done, he offered to do the dishes, and Lana instantly volunteered as well. They stacked the plates and went to the kitchen. The weird tension hung between them like a speech barrier, and the plates were washed in silence. Somewhere around the second fork, Lana finally spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said."

Clark put the fork in the dishwasher. "For what?" he asked, just to make sure.

"I shouldn't have made you stay. It wasn't fair. You came to me with nothing but concern for my well being, and I-" she looked up at him. "I didn't have any consideration for yours. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said, lying just a little. "I always enjoy spending time with you, even if it's just washing dishes."

She knew he was avoiding the issue, but she smiled a bit sadly anyway. "Thanks, Clark. You're sweet." Suddenly her face changed as she thought of something. "Clark… what did Whitney mean when he said that you'd never get close to me?" An unspoken answer played on her face, but she refused to voice it.

Clark wanted more than anything to run, to turn right then and run as fast as only he could. "I'm sure…" he tried. "I'm sure Whitney just misunderstood. Overreacted. You know how he is." He sounded so lame that he almost cringed. The knife in his hand bent under his fingers, and he quickly jerked it straight and put it away.

"If you say so," Lana said. She didn't believe a word he was saying, but he wasn't sure she understood what Whitney had meant, either. Maybe she didn't want to understand.