One month later.
He watched as Chloe paced back and forth in front of his newly appointed desk. The Excelsior office was empty except for them, as it always seemed to be after school. She thought aloud her edits as she read his latest article. He grinned at the sight of it. The grin felt odd on his face. His skin wasn't used to it, but he liked the way it felt. Every few seconds he glanced at his cell phone. Father was supposed to call sometime this afternoon. He had mentioned something a few days ago about Lex and Smallville. It was only scattered words in the facade of a conversation. Father wasn't fully available to talk then. As if he ever was.
Father was a man far too busy to talk to his "other" son.
"Not bad Luthor," Chloe said, slapping down his article on the desk. "If I didn't know I had a hand in your journalistic coming of age, I'd say you were a natural."
A compliment. He still didn't know how to take them.
I guess the world of journalism owes you a debt of gratitude, he said.
"Damn right it does," she shot back playfully.
He couldn't get enough of this. Sitting after school with her. The playful banter he still had some trouble mastering. The friendly smiles she gave him and the "hello's" when they passed in the hall. The way she sometimes looked at him when they stayed really late working on things. The way he couldn't quite understand.
The last time he could remember feeling this way was shortly before mother died.
He couldn't call it happy. He wasn't sure what that was. But he felt it was something similar and it would have to do.
"Hey," she said waving her hand in front of his face. "There's no daydreaming on the job."
What? Oh, sorry.
"Just don't let it happen again."
That smile.
So welcome and inviting.
She was his best friend.
Clark Luthor had a friend.
The whole concept was a little mind-boggling. But he liked it that way.
He knew it would be appreciated more.
***
"You seem different," Dr Wilson said with a wry smile.
Different? Clark replied. Different how? What do you mean?
"I'm not sure exactly," she said leaning a little way across her desk. "Just that you... Hmm..."
Well that was helpful. He knew father was getting his moneys worth here.
"How is life at home?"
Quiet.
"Is your brother still gone?"
Yes.
"And your father is never around much?"
No. Nothing at home has changed. It's the same. It's always the same.
"Of course. I'm sorry. What about school?"
He couldn't help the small grin that stretched across his lips. He turned his head to hide it from the doctor but it was too late.
"I knew it," she said triumphantly. "What is different in school Clark? Do you have a girlfriend?"
Just a friend, he replied, his head still turned.
"Real or imaginary?"
Real.
"I see."
He could hear her pencil scribbling across her notepad.
"A friend is good Clark. Very good."
I guess.
"What is their name?"
Chloe.
"A lovely name. Where did you two meet?"
At school.
"Well I gathered that Mr. Luthor. Where in school? Do you two share a class?"
We met in the school newspaper's office. She's the editor.
"Interesting place to meet."
I was there to join the paper.
"Really?"
Yes.
More notes.
"What made you want to do that?"
Honestly?
"There are no lies in here Clark."
I have no idea.
"How long ago was this?"
A few weeks I think.
"And you never thought to mention it?"
I didn't feel like it I guess.
"Why not?"
Because I didn't think it would last.
"Why would you think that?"
Because nothing good ever does.
She didn't have a reply to that.
"Well good for you Clark. I'm glad you have a friend. And I'm proud of you for wanting to take an interest in a school activity."
Uh, thanks.
"Do you have much in common with her?"
We both write for the paper.
"I meant outside of..."
I don't want to talk about her anymore.
"Oh," she said, thrown by blunt halt of the topic. "All right, you don't have to if you don't want to. But can I ask why?"
Because I don't want her to be a topic here. I don't want to talk about her here. She doesn't belong here. Okay?
"Okay. But..."
I picked up one of my father's Mercedes with my bare hands yesterday, he said.
Dr. Wilson sighed in defeat.
***
When he got home he opened the door to the unfamiliar blast of sound and light. And the even more unfamiliar sight of father standing in the middle of the living room, two phones in hand, and staring with half-interest at the TV. Clark watched from the foyer as father yelled into one phone and tried to listen to the other. Clark thought he could stand there forever and father would never notice him. It would have been true if he didn't get tired of standing and moved toward his room.
"Clark," father called out as he passed. "Got to go," he said into both the phones.
Clark stood stock-still waiting for father to speak again.
"How is school going?"
Great. Small talk. Wonderful.
Fine, he said.
"Getting along with your peers?"
Since when have you cared?
I guess, he replied.
"And how's..."
Can you just skip it dad? Clark snapped. I know you're not interested in my daily life so can you just cut the crap and tell me what you want?
For a second, just a tick in time, father's jaw hung open at his son's outburst. Clark was just as shocked at his own words, but was wise not to show it. Father's face went blank and then returned to normal.
"That a boy," he said.
Clark took a step back when he saw the grin on father's face. The one he always had when Lex spoke out against him. The one that told you he was letting you speak to him like that.
"Don't take any bullshit from anyone not even me."
Father took a step closer, and Clark took another step back.
"Have you and Lex spoken since his departure?"
No.
"That is a shame."
Clark could hear the false sympathy in every syllable of father's words. He tried not to let the disgust and contempt suddenly brewing inside of him show. He'd tried all his life not to feel anything toward this man. It scared him that he was almost feeling hatred. He took another step back and this time father didn't follow.
"I have a small favor to ask you son."
Uh oh.
"I want you to visit your brother this weekend."
Why? Clark asked.
"Is it such a strange request for a father to want his boys to get along?"
Clark didn't answer. He knew full well why his father would ask him to visit Lex. He knew father could have cared less if his sons got along. Father was curious about Lex. Lex must be up to something and father can't figure it out this time. Father wanted him to visit because he knew Clark didn't lie. If father asked him what he saw, he would tell him.
No wonder father thought honesty was a flaw. It was so easily exploited.
They stared at each other for what felt like eons.
Then father's phone rang and he went back to his calls.
Clark hoped he wouldn't notice the handprint he'd left in the wall.
***
The soothing night breeze did little to ease his mood. Father had barely paid attention to him his entire life, and now he was asking favors. Now he was asking him to spy on his brother. Using him like a pawn. He'd happily stayed away from Lex and father's feud for years. He should have known it was only a matter of time before one of them dragged him into it. He'd always been the good one. Never started any trouble. Never raised his voice. Never lied, cheated, or stole. He knew he was better off for it. Now father was taking advantage of it. He stared at the lights below. He didn't think about the people. He didn't feel the peace. In a roar of anger he tore himself away from the edge of the building and sent a fist flying into the side of father's helicopter and watched helplessly as it teetered on its feet before falling onto its side.
Clark never liked being angry. He was always afraid of what could happen. Who could get hurt. He knew that when he got mad, things got broken.
His anger faded away instantly and was replaced by blind panic. He knew he had to get the copter back up somehow or father would finally notice that there was something different about his "other" son. That all the things he said he could do weren't just his imagination. No delusion. Only disillusion caused by ignorance and neglect.
As much as Clark used to try and show father what he was capable of, he knew now that everything was better kept to himself. He ran to the other side of the helicopter and bent to his knees, straining to get his fingers underneath the side. He knew he didn't have to worry about father hearing him. The apartment had always been soundproof. After a little finessing of the metal, he finally got his fingers underneath and held his knees bent for more support of the weight. With one push of strength he felt the copter move easily under him. With another push and a strained growl, he lifted the helicopter slowly off the ground. One more cry and one last push and the copter teetered back to its feet without protest.
He wasn't even winded.
He pumped a fist into the air and howled at the moon.
He could lift father's helicopter.
He didn't have to be curious about it anymore.
For the first time in years he wasn't ashamed of his abilities. He felt good. His eye caught the roof top across the street. Always there, always mocking him. He felt a surge of energy and took off in a flash of speed. He leapt from the edge of the roof and threw his arms above his head. He felt the wind rushing below him. The weightlessness of his body soaring through the air. He saw the cars streaming underneath him.
He landed on the other roof in a crouch and rolled a few feet before coming to a stop. He crawled slowly to his feet and stared back in wonder at his building. He jumped around and hollered at the moon, throwing his arms wildly about. He didn't care if anyone heard him.
He wondered what Dr. Wilson would say when he told her he flew.
He watched as Chloe paced back and forth in front of his newly appointed desk. The Excelsior office was empty except for them, as it always seemed to be after school. She thought aloud her edits as she read his latest article. He grinned at the sight of it. The grin felt odd on his face. His skin wasn't used to it, but he liked the way it felt. Every few seconds he glanced at his cell phone. Father was supposed to call sometime this afternoon. He had mentioned something a few days ago about Lex and Smallville. It was only scattered words in the facade of a conversation. Father wasn't fully available to talk then. As if he ever was.
Father was a man far too busy to talk to his "other" son.
"Not bad Luthor," Chloe said, slapping down his article on the desk. "If I didn't know I had a hand in your journalistic coming of age, I'd say you were a natural."
A compliment. He still didn't know how to take them.
I guess the world of journalism owes you a debt of gratitude, he said.
"Damn right it does," she shot back playfully.
He couldn't get enough of this. Sitting after school with her. The playful banter he still had some trouble mastering. The friendly smiles she gave him and the "hello's" when they passed in the hall. The way she sometimes looked at him when they stayed really late working on things. The way he couldn't quite understand.
The last time he could remember feeling this way was shortly before mother died.
He couldn't call it happy. He wasn't sure what that was. But he felt it was something similar and it would have to do.
"Hey," she said waving her hand in front of his face. "There's no daydreaming on the job."
What? Oh, sorry.
"Just don't let it happen again."
That smile.
So welcome and inviting.
She was his best friend.
Clark Luthor had a friend.
The whole concept was a little mind-boggling. But he liked it that way.
He knew it would be appreciated more.
***
"You seem different," Dr Wilson said with a wry smile.
Different? Clark replied. Different how? What do you mean?
"I'm not sure exactly," she said leaning a little way across her desk. "Just that you... Hmm..."
Well that was helpful. He knew father was getting his moneys worth here.
"How is life at home?"
Quiet.
"Is your brother still gone?"
Yes.
"And your father is never around much?"
No. Nothing at home has changed. It's the same. It's always the same.
"Of course. I'm sorry. What about school?"
He couldn't help the small grin that stretched across his lips. He turned his head to hide it from the doctor but it was too late.
"I knew it," she said triumphantly. "What is different in school Clark? Do you have a girlfriend?"
Just a friend, he replied, his head still turned.
"Real or imaginary?"
Real.
"I see."
He could hear her pencil scribbling across her notepad.
"A friend is good Clark. Very good."
I guess.
"What is their name?"
Chloe.
"A lovely name. Where did you two meet?"
At school.
"Well I gathered that Mr. Luthor. Where in school? Do you two share a class?"
We met in the school newspaper's office. She's the editor.
"Interesting place to meet."
I was there to join the paper.
"Really?"
Yes.
More notes.
"What made you want to do that?"
Honestly?
"There are no lies in here Clark."
I have no idea.
"How long ago was this?"
A few weeks I think.
"And you never thought to mention it?"
I didn't feel like it I guess.
"Why not?"
Because I didn't think it would last.
"Why would you think that?"
Because nothing good ever does.
She didn't have a reply to that.
"Well good for you Clark. I'm glad you have a friend. And I'm proud of you for wanting to take an interest in a school activity."
Uh, thanks.
"Do you have much in common with her?"
We both write for the paper.
"I meant outside of..."
I don't want to talk about her anymore.
"Oh," she said, thrown by blunt halt of the topic. "All right, you don't have to if you don't want to. But can I ask why?"
Because I don't want her to be a topic here. I don't want to talk about her here. She doesn't belong here. Okay?
"Okay. But..."
I picked up one of my father's Mercedes with my bare hands yesterday, he said.
Dr. Wilson sighed in defeat.
***
When he got home he opened the door to the unfamiliar blast of sound and light. And the even more unfamiliar sight of father standing in the middle of the living room, two phones in hand, and staring with half-interest at the TV. Clark watched from the foyer as father yelled into one phone and tried to listen to the other. Clark thought he could stand there forever and father would never notice him. It would have been true if he didn't get tired of standing and moved toward his room.
"Clark," father called out as he passed. "Got to go," he said into both the phones.
Clark stood stock-still waiting for father to speak again.
"How is school going?"
Great. Small talk. Wonderful.
Fine, he said.
"Getting along with your peers?"
Since when have you cared?
I guess, he replied.
"And how's..."
Can you just skip it dad? Clark snapped. I know you're not interested in my daily life so can you just cut the crap and tell me what you want?
For a second, just a tick in time, father's jaw hung open at his son's outburst. Clark was just as shocked at his own words, but was wise not to show it. Father's face went blank and then returned to normal.
"That a boy," he said.
Clark took a step back when he saw the grin on father's face. The one he always had when Lex spoke out against him. The one that told you he was letting you speak to him like that.
"Don't take any bullshit from anyone not even me."
Father took a step closer, and Clark took another step back.
"Have you and Lex spoken since his departure?"
No.
"That is a shame."
Clark could hear the false sympathy in every syllable of father's words. He tried not to let the disgust and contempt suddenly brewing inside of him show. He'd tried all his life not to feel anything toward this man. It scared him that he was almost feeling hatred. He took another step back and this time father didn't follow.
"I have a small favor to ask you son."
Uh oh.
"I want you to visit your brother this weekend."
Why? Clark asked.
"Is it such a strange request for a father to want his boys to get along?"
Clark didn't answer. He knew full well why his father would ask him to visit Lex. He knew father could have cared less if his sons got along. Father was curious about Lex. Lex must be up to something and father can't figure it out this time. Father wanted him to visit because he knew Clark didn't lie. If father asked him what he saw, he would tell him.
No wonder father thought honesty was a flaw. It was so easily exploited.
They stared at each other for what felt like eons.
Then father's phone rang and he went back to his calls.
Clark hoped he wouldn't notice the handprint he'd left in the wall.
***
The soothing night breeze did little to ease his mood. Father had barely paid attention to him his entire life, and now he was asking favors. Now he was asking him to spy on his brother. Using him like a pawn. He'd happily stayed away from Lex and father's feud for years. He should have known it was only a matter of time before one of them dragged him into it. He'd always been the good one. Never started any trouble. Never raised his voice. Never lied, cheated, or stole. He knew he was better off for it. Now father was taking advantage of it. He stared at the lights below. He didn't think about the people. He didn't feel the peace. In a roar of anger he tore himself away from the edge of the building and sent a fist flying into the side of father's helicopter and watched helplessly as it teetered on its feet before falling onto its side.
Clark never liked being angry. He was always afraid of what could happen. Who could get hurt. He knew that when he got mad, things got broken.
His anger faded away instantly and was replaced by blind panic. He knew he had to get the copter back up somehow or father would finally notice that there was something different about his "other" son. That all the things he said he could do weren't just his imagination. No delusion. Only disillusion caused by ignorance and neglect.
As much as Clark used to try and show father what he was capable of, he knew now that everything was better kept to himself. He ran to the other side of the helicopter and bent to his knees, straining to get his fingers underneath the side. He knew he didn't have to worry about father hearing him. The apartment had always been soundproof. After a little finessing of the metal, he finally got his fingers underneath and held his knees bent for more support of the weight. With one push of strength he felt the copter move easily under him. With another push and a strained growl, he lifted the helicopter slowly off the ground. One more cry and one last push and the copter teetered back to its feet without protest.
He wasn't even winded.
He pumped a fist into the air and howled at the moon.
He could lift father's helicopter.
He didn't have to be curious about it anymore.
For the first time in years he wasn't ashamed of his abilities. He felt good. His eye caught the roof top across the street. Always there, always mocking him. He felt a surge of energy and took off in a flash of speed. He leapt from the edge of the roof and threw his arms above his head. He felt the wind rushing below him. The weightlessness of his body soaring through the air. He saw the cars streaming underneath him.
He landed on the other roof in a crouch and rolled a few feet before coming to a stop. He crawled slowly to his feet and stared back in wonder at his building. He jumped around and hollered at the moon, throwing his arms wildly about. He didn't care if anyone heard him.
He wondered what Dr. Wilson would say when he told her he flew.