Chapter 3:
AND THINGS GET WORSE . . .
The next day at school, Clark Kent was reduced to wearing a hat. He had taken several showers, but the super glue was state of the art and held fast. He still had two tiny points, but mostly it stuck out at the sides.
Joan honestly didn't know what she was thinking, though she had gone over it in her mind many times before. She had apologized profusely and Clark had told her it was okay.
"Lana won't notice!" she had said
But Lana did. And she was staring at the top of his head. Joan, however, took full responsibility for it. But, no matter how she tried to apologize and no matter how many times he told her it was okay as Whitney laughed, she still felt as if she had to make it up to him.
So, as a gesture of friendship, she sat with Chloe and watched the football practice. It had been a long day. She sat beside Chloe with her head propped on her hand and trying insanely hard not to fall asleep and giving the cheerleaders a look that Ally McBeal would give to a Big Mac. For some reason, they had always annoyed her. Maybe it was the pom-poms, maybe it was the tiny little skirts, maybe it was the fact that one of them had forgotten to wear undwear on occasion . . . repeatedly. She just wasn't a big fan of cheerleaders. She perked up, however, as they're pyramid of teenage girls fell over.
"Oooh," Chloe said, flinching. "That must've hurt. Maybe Lana shouldn't have left the squad."
"I say that if they forgot she was on the bottom, they deserved that."
"Point well taken."
The cheerleaders got up to try again. And fell over. But, third time's a charm, and the managed to stay up with three cheerleaders doing cartwheels on the ground. Finally, not being able to take it anymore, Joan used her probability altering power to knock them all over again.
"Wow, did you see that?" Chloe asked. "They just fell over. Again! It was almost as if something supernatural did it!"
"Really. A pyramid of accident-prone cheerleaders fell down. Alert the authorities," Joan said dully.
"No," Chloe said, very seriously. "They wouldn't believe me . . . " She rubbed her chin thoughtfully and Joan scooted away from her to the edge of her seat.
Before she knew it, Chloe had taken out her handy-dandy, novelty, over-sized, black camera and had snapped a picture of the heap of cheerleaders. "This will be on the front page of the school newspaper!"
Joan was about to say something against placing a picture on the front page of the school newpaper of ten teenage girls in cheerleading uniforms on top of each other, but decided against it. She wanted to see where this would go. "Okay. Sure. Whatever you say. I'll read your article the moment it comes out." I'll even help you sort the fan-mail from the teenage guys and dirty old men from the angry parent and teacher letters. But Joan didn't vocalize that thought. Instead she continued to watch Clark and Pete repeatedly run into other members of their team and run around with a football. She wasn't very big on sports unless they had to do with paintballs and cats with lasers strapped to their back, running around and shooting people while the players dodged out of the way and hit them with the paintballs and the cats were really big and vicious . . .
Five minutes later, Sterling Joan DeRobertis had invented a new sport. But, once she had finished with that, she was forced to continued watching the football practice. Whitney was running toward Clark. Suddenly, his ankles tangled with each other and he fell flat on his face. There was nothing he could trip over and no one could have shoved him. Once Clark had an extra moment, he looked up into the stands. Chloe and Joan smiled and waved. A thought crossed his mind: someone had tripped Whitney . . . but how? He put this thought out of his mind and continued with his football practice, intent on talking with Chloe about it later.
Chloe, Clark, and Joan sat together in the coffee house. Lana had refused to meet them there, saying that the coffee house held "bad memories" for her. As soon as they had ordered their coffee, Chloe immediately delved into her most recent rant about supernatural happenings in Smallville. Both her companions immediately entered a state much like meditation where they stared ahead in space and nodded every once in a while.
Soon, Clark realized that Chloe had been talking about the "Pom-Pom Brigade" falling over. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, snapping out of his daze. "Whitney tripped, too."
Joan cleared her throat. "Soooo . . . how about those 'Dead Can Dance'?"
" . . . Who?" they both asked simultaneously.
" . . . Never mind. Uhm, I think this is just all blown out of proportion. It's a well known fact that Whitney isn't exactly the quickest bunny in the field. He probably just got distracted 'cause he saw something shiney. As for the cheerleaders, no offense intended to them, but . . . actually there's no nice way to say they're dumb as a box of hair."
Chloe looked at Clark. "She does have a point."
"Still, I think something weird is happening again."
Joan gulped. " . . . Again?"
"Things have been weird in Smallville since that meteor shower."
"Yeah. Chloe has a theory that it's caused by the meteor rocks."
"The . . . meteor rocks?"
"Geez, Joan, what is with you today?" Clark asked. "You're pausing a lot. Did you get hit in the head."
" . . . Yeah."
"Oooookay, then," Chloe said. "Anyway, it all makes since. Anyone who has any type of power was given their power by the meteor rocks! There's been a lot of cases."
"Yeah, will I think those are just coincidences."
"Why don't you want to believe this, Joan?"
"Have you seen Chloe's Wall of Weird?" Clark asked. "It has every odd occurence since the meteor shower. And they all have ties with it."
"As special as that is, I don't think there's a tie."
"Fine. Believe what you want. But Clark and I will know the truth."
The three finished their coffee in silence and then headed out the door to do some shopping.
But fate seemed intent on outing Joan. A bicyclist swerved madly over the concrete curb.
"Watch out!" Joan screamed, holding out her hands, a stream of red causing the bicycle's wheels to move a quarter of an inch, just enough so it would run into a parked car, denting it. Joan looked up, then turned to the other two, expecting some form of gratitude.
Clark stepped back, then ran forward and head-butted her in the stomach, tackling her to the ground.
"WHAT THE GODDAM FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! SONUVABITCH! GET OFF OF ME!"
Clark stepped back nervously, though not to head-butt her again, and Joan stood up on two shakey legs.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she screamed at him. "Are you fuckin' crazy?"
"You . . . you have powers . . . "
"No shit, Sherlock!" hissed Joan, cursing like a sailor. She dusted herself off. "What has gotten into you?!"
"Well . . . the last people who . . . had powers . . . have been . . . "
"Hurry it up, Rainman."
"They've been mean."
Chloe looked at him. "Mean? They tried to kill us!"
Clark nodded. "There was one guy who could freeze things. There was another girl who could change into anyone she wanted. Our coach made things catch on fire. One man turned himself young again . . . "
"And they all were affected from the blast," Chloe finished for him, looking meaningfully at Joan.
"So you tackled me to the ground?!" Joan roared.
"I was trying to stop you!" Clark yelled.
Joan put her knuckle to the bridge of her nose. "You are a flaming idiot, Clark."
Clark pouted. "That's not what Elena said." (Read Nova Adams' Comic Geeks From The Fifth Dimension. It'll explain who Elena is.)
"Elena? The girl in my English class?"
"Yeah. You know her?"
"Yeah. But this isn't about Elena! This is about you tackling me, you flaming IDIOT!"
"Stop calling me that!"
"Stop calling me an evil super-villain!"
"I didn't!"
"Yeah, but you were thinkin' it, weren't you?!"
" . . . Maybe . . . "
"I'm going home," Joan muttered, storming away.
Joan sat in her room, flipping over her homework and reading Dangerous Angels by Francesca Lia Block when her phone rang. "Hello?" she answered.
"Hey. Joan? This is Clark."
"What, wanna knock me over again?"
"Sorry."
"You should be."
"I have something to tell you. Can I come over?"
"I don't think . . . "
"I'll be there in a second." There was a click and about ten seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Joan, very worried answered it to find Clark.
"How on God's green earth did you - "
"You're not the only one with powers," he smiled. "Do you have somewhere we could talk? Privately?"
"Uhhh, yeah. The living room. Everyone's upstairs. What is it? How did you - ?"
His smile was growing and growing. "Joan, I have an idea . . . "
Joan gulped
"NO, I WILL NOT BECOME A SUPERHERO WITH YOU AND ROAM AROUND SMALLVILLE AND METROPOLIS FIGHTING CRIME WITH YOU!!!!" Joan exclaimed.
"Only Metropolis. It's my destiny!"
"And mine is to kick you out of my house! Now go!"
"Come on, please? You don't wanna be a superhero? Elena said - "
Joan sighed. "Maybe, Clark. Maybe."
"Really?"
" . . . Tempted to say no, but yes. Maybe. I'll talk with you about it at school, okay?"
"Okay," said Clark, still grinning. "Oh," he said, getting up to leave, "you won't tell anyone, will you, Joan?"
"If you don't tell anyone about me."
"Deal. See you at Elena's party."
"Bye." Joan DeRobertis shut the door. "That was frikkin' weird." Joan was only happy that Clark hadn't tackled her again.
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down
"Ah, dammit," Joan muttered. "This can't be happening."
"Joan? What's that music?" Joan's mother asked from her parents' room.
Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away
"Nothing, Mom!" Joan called up to her, then muttered, "That last part was embarassing."
He takes a whiskey drink
He takes a vodka drink
He takes a lager drink
He takes a cider drink
He sings a song that reminds him
Of the good times
He sings a song that reminds him
Of the better times
Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy
Danny Boy
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down
AND THINGS GET WORSE . . .
The next day at school, Clark Kent was reduced to wearing a hat. He had taken several showers, but the super glue was state of the art and held fast. He still had two tiny points, but mostly it stuck out at the sides.
Joan honestly didn't know what she was thinking, though she had gone over it in her mind many times before. She had apologized profusely and Clark had told her it was okay.
"Lana won't notice!" she had said
But Lana did. And she was staring at the top of his head. Joan, however, took full responsibility for it. But, no matter how she tried to apologize and no matter how many times he told her it was okay as Whitney laughed, she still felt as if she had to make it up to him.
So, as a gesture of friendship, she sat with Chloe and watched the football practice. It had been a long day. She sat beside Chloe with her head propped on her hand and trying insanely hard not to fall asleep and giving the cheerleaders a look that Ally McBeal would give to a Big Mac. For some reason, they had always annoyed her. Maybe it was the pom-poms, maybe it was the tiny little skirts, maybe it was the fact that one of them had forgotten to wear undwear on occasion . . . repeatedly. She just wasn't a big fan of cheerleaders. She perked up, however, as they're pyramid of teenage girls fell over.
"Oooh," Chloe said, flinching. "That must've hurt. Maybe Lana shouldn't have left the squad."
"I say that if they forgot she was on the bottom, they deserved that."
"Point well taken."
The cheerleaders got up to try again. And fell over. But, third time's a charm, and the managed to stay up with three cheerleaders doing cartwheels on the ground. Finally, not being able to take it anymore, Joan used her probability altering power to knock them all over again.
"Wow, did you see that?" Chloe asked. "They just fell over. Again! It was almost as if something supernatural did it!"
"Really. A pyramid of accident-prone cheerleaders fell down. Alert the authorities," Joan said dully.
"No," Chloe said, very seriously. "They wouldn't believe me . . . " She rubbed her chin thoughtfully and Joan scooted away from her to the edge of her seat.
Before she knew it, Chloe had taken out her handy-dandy, novelty, over-sized, black camera and had snapped a picture of the heap of cheerleaders. "This will be on the front page of the school newspaper!"
Joan was about to say something against placing a picture on the front page of the school newpaper of ten teenage girls in cheerleading uniforms on top of each other, but decided against it. She wanted to see where this would go. "Okay. Sure. Whatever you say. I'll read your article the moment it comes out." I'll even help you sort the fan-mail from the teenage guys and dirty old men from the angry parent and teacher letters. But Joan didn't vocalize that thought. Instead she continued to watch Clark and Pete repeatedly run into other members of their team and run around with a football. She wasn't very big on sports unless they had to do with paintballs and cats with lasers strapped to their back, running around and shooting people while the players dodged out of the way and hit them with the paintballs and the cats were really big and vicious . . .
Five minutes later, Sterling Joan DeRobertis had invented a new sport. But, once she had finished with that, she was forced to continued watching the football practice. Whitney was running toward Clark. Suddenly, his ankles tangled with each other and he fell flat on his face. There was nothing he could trip over and no one could have shoved him. Once Clark had an extra moment, he looked up into the stands. Chloe and Joan smiled and waved. A thought crossed his mind: someone had tripped Whitney . . . but how? He put this thought out of his mind and continued with his football practice, intent on talking with Chloe about it later.
Chloe, Clark, and Joan sat together in the coffee house. Lana had refused to meet them there, saying that the coffee house held "bad memories" for her. As soon as they had ordered their coffee, Chloe immediately delved into her most recent rant about supernatural happenings in Smallville. Both her companions immediately entered a state much like meditation where they stared ahead in space and nodded every once in a while.
Soon, Clark realized that Chloe had been talking about the "Pom-Pom Brigade" falling over. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, snapping out of his daze. "Whitney tripped, too."
Joan cleared her throat. "Soooo . . . how about those 'Dead Can Dance'?"
" . . . Who?" they both asked simultaneously.
" . . . Never mind. Uhm, I think this is just all blown out of proportion. It's a well known fact that Whitney isn't exactly the quickest bunny in the field. He probably just got distracted 'cause he saw something shiney. As for the cheerleaders, no offense intended to them, but . . . actually there's no nice way to say they're dumb as a box of hair."
Chloe looked at Clark. "She does have a point."
"Still, I think something weird is happening again."
Joan gulped. " . . . Again?"
"Things have been weird in Smallville since that meteor shower."
"Yeah. Chloe has a theory that it's caused by the meteor rocks."
"The . . . meteor rocks?"
"Geez, Joan, what is with you today?" Clark asked. "You're pausing a lot. Did you get hit in the head."
" . . . Yeah."
"Oooookay, then," Chloe said. "Anyway, it all makes since. Anyone who has any type of power was given their power by the meteor rocks! There's been a lot of cases."
"Yeah, will I think those are just coincidences."
"Why don't you want to believe this, Joan?"
"Have you seen Chloe's Wall of Weird?" Clark asked. "It has every odd occurence since the meteor shower. And they all have ties with it."
"As special as that is, I don't think there's a tie."
"Fine. Believe what you want. But Clark and I will know the truth."
The three finished their coffee in silence and then headed out the door to do some shopping.
But fate seemed intent on outing Joan. A bicyclist swerved madly over the concrete curb.
"Watch out!" Joan screamed, holding out her hands, a stream of red causing the bicycle's wheels to move a quarter of an inch, just enough so it would run into a parked car, denting it. Joan looked up, then turned to the other two, expecting some form of gratitude.
Clark stepped back, then ran forward and head-butted her in the stomach, tackling her to the ground.
"WHAT THE GODDAM FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! SONUVABITCH! GET OFF OF ME!"
Clark stepped back nervously, though not to head-butt her again, and Joan stood up on two shakey legs.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she screamed at him. "Are you fuckin' crazy?"
"You . . . you have powers . . . "
"No shit, Sherlock!" hissed Joan, cursing like a sailor. She dusted herself off. "What has gotten into you?!"
"Well . . . the last people who . . . had powers . . . have been . . . "
"Hurry it up, Rainman."
"They've been mean."
Chloe looked at him. "Mean? They tried to kill us!"
Clark nodded. "There was one guy who could freeze things. There was another girl who could change into anyone she wanted. Our coach made things catch on fire. One man turned himself young again . . . "
"And they all were affected from the blast," Chloe finished for him, looking meaningfully at Joan.
"So you tackled me to the ground?!" Joan roared.
"I was trying to stop you!" Clark yelled.
Joan put her knuckle to the bridge of her nose. "You are a flaming idiot, Clark."
Clark pouted. "That's not what Elena said." (Read Nova Adams' Comic Geeks From The Fifth Dimension. It'll explain who Elena is.)
"Elena? The girl in my English class?"
"Yeah. You know her?"
"Yeah. But this isn't about Elena! This is about you tackling me, you flaming IDIOT!"
"Stop calling me that!"
"Stop calling me an evil super-villain!"
"I didn't!"
"Yeah, but you were thinkin' it, weren't you?!"
" . . . Maybe . . . "
"I'm going home," Joan muttered, storming away.
Joan sat in her room, flipping over her homework and reading Dangerous Angels by Francesca Lia Block when her phone rang. "Hello?" she answered.
"Hey. Joan? This is Clark."
"What, wanna knock me over again?"
"Sorry."
"You should be."
"I have something to tell you. Can I come over?"
"I don't think . . . "
"I'll be there in a second." There was a click and about ten seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Joan, very worried answered it to find Clark.
"How on God's green earth did you - "
"You're not the only one with powers," he smiled. "Do you have somewhere we could talk? Privately?"
"Uhhh, yeah. The living room. Everyone's upstairs. What is it? How did you - ?"
His smile was growing and growing. "Joan, I have an idea . . . "
Joan gulped
"NO, I WILL NOT BECOME A SUPERHERO WITH YOU AND ROAM AROUND SMALLVILLE AND METROPOLIS FIGHTING CRIME WITH YOU!!!!" Joan exclaimed.
"Only Metropolis. It's my destiny!"
"And mine is to kick you out of my house! Now go!"
"Come on, please? You don't wanna be a superhero? Elena said - "
Joan sighed. "Maybe, Clark. Maybe."
"Really?"
" . . . Tempted to say no, but yes. Maybe. I'll talk with you about it at school, okay?"
"Okay," said Clark, still grinning. "Oh," he said, getting up to leave, "you won't tell anyone, will you, Joan?"
"If you don't tell anyone about me."
"Deal. See you at Elena's party."
"Bye." Joan DeRobertis shut the door. "That was frikkin' weird." Joan was only happy that Clark hadn't tackled her again.
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down
"Ah, dammit," Joan muttered. "This can't be happening."
"Joan? What's that music?" Joan's mother asked from her parents' room.
Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away
"Nothing, Mom!" Joan called up to her, then muttered, "That last part was embarassing."
He takes a whiskey drink
He takes a vodka drink
He takes a lager drink
He takes a cider drink
He sings a song that reminds him
Of the good times
He sings a song that reminds him
Of the better times
Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy
Danny Boy
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna get me down