It was a town tradition. On the Fourth of July, everybody came out to Chandler's Field to
watch the fireworks. Except, of course, for two notable exceptions: Nell Potter and her
niece, Lana Lang.
"The poor girl's had enough fireworks for one lifetime, don't you think?" Nell inquired of
everyone who inevitably questioned her absence at the town's biggest annual gathering.
"I'm surprised that any of you take your children there. Don't they remember?"
"No one associates fireworks with the meteor shower," they assured her, but Nell would
have no parts of it. "Lana and I are not going, and that's final."
*************************************************************
Clark loved the fireworks. For him, the Fourth of July was better than Christmas. He loved
all the bright colors. They looked like stars, but they were better than stars. They were
closer, so close that he could almost reach out and touch them. So close that they seemed to
be falling all around him.
Pete's older brothers had brought sparklers and Roman candles. They weren't supposed to
have Roman candles--no one was; the summer had been a dangerously dry one--but of
course the boys couldn't resist. They had chosen an out-of-the-way spot at the back of the
field to set them up, hopefully out of range of their parents' eyes. Pete had had to beg Sam
and Mike to let him and Clark come along and watch them set off their fireworks, and in the
end Sam and Mike told Pete that he would have to do their chores for a week in exchange
for the privilege. For Pete, it was worth it. He loved it when he got to do cool stuff with his
brothers.
They had been warned, of course. Stay far away, no screaming, and no tattling if anything
went wrong. They had a small jug of water in case a fire started, but if anything should
happen that was too big for them to control, they were all just supposed to run away, as fast
as they could and in different directions. Pete and Clark had to swear on the Bible that they
wouldn't tell on Sam and Mike, ever, even under threat of punishment. Mike had gotten out
the big gold-leaf family Bible and *everything*.
Mike carefully set the candle in the grass. They had tried to pick a spot where the grass
wasn't too high or too thick. Satisfied with his handiwork, he struck a match and carefully
lit the candle, jumping back as soon as he saw the flame catch on the fuse.
Clark stood transfixed as the candle spit out white-hot sparks and golden ashes. They
looked like little baby stars, shooting up into the night sky for the very first time. He
wanted to catch one, to hold it in his hand, to have it be *his* and no one else's. He started
towards the candle, but Pete saw him out of the corner of his eye and grabbed Clark's arm,
pulling him back. "No, Clark! It's dangerous!" Pete admonished him. Clark pouted and
continued to watch the candle until it died.
"Wow, man, that was awesome!" exclaimed Sam. He gave Mike a high five. They started
to set up the other two they had brought. Sam thrust a few little sticks into Pete's hand.
"Here, you guys can play with these. Just *be careful*." He also gave Pete a plastic
lighter. "DonÕt let *him* get it," he said, glaring at Clark. Clark glared right back. He
didn't like it when Sam was mean to him. He could tell Pete was mad too. They took the
sparklers and walked back to the big blanket Pete's mom had set up for all of them to sit on.
Pete's parents *and* Clark's were over talking to some other grown-ups, so no one saw the
two seven-year-olds lighting sparklers all by themselves.
Clark had never seen anything as fascinating as the sparkler in his whole life. It was his
dream come true--he was finally getting to hold stars! He watched as the stars jumped and
danced around the little stick he was holding onto, not even noticing the heat from the
sparks as they neared his skin. Beside him, Pete was spinning around with his, making
silver sparks fly in all different directions. That must have been what caught everybody's
attention, for the next thing Clark knew his mom was yelling and his dad was running over
to him.
His dad's eyes widened when he saw Clark holding the nearly extinguished sparkler in his
hand. From his point of view, it looked as though Clark was holding a ball of pure fire.
Clark, oblivious to anything but the sparkly "stars," didn't notice the panicked look on his
dad's face. "Clark, drop that *now*!"
Clark didn't look up. His dad grabbed his arm. "I said drop it, son," he ordered sternly.
Clark obediently dropped the ball of stars on the ground and watched sadly as his father
stomped on it to put it out. A tear fell from one eye as his dad grabbed his hand and
painstakingly examined it, making sure he wasn't hurt.
All he'd wanted was to touch a star.
*************************************************************
Lana Lang was bored. All her friends were out in Chandler's Field watching the fireworks.
Lana had always wanted to go see the fireworks, but mean Aunt Nell would never let her.
She said the fireworks would make Lana sad, because they looked like the meteors that
killed her parents. But Lana's friends told her that the fireworks were pretty, like bright
colored stars, even though they were loud and kind of scary.
"I wanna go see the fireworks!" she whined to Aunt Nell. All day she had begged Nell to
let her go. "Everybody *else* always gets to go to the fireworks! Why can't we go, Nell?
Why why why why why?"
Nell sighed and silently cursed her sister for leaving her with this spoiled, petulant brat.
"Fine," she said. "If you want to go, we'll go. But if you get scared and have nightmares
tonight, don't expect me to sit up half the night listening to you cry."
Lana jumped up and down. "Yay!" she yelled. "We're going to the fireworks!"
*************************************************************
Lana had never seen so many people in her life. Everywhere people were sitting on lawn
chairs and blankets and beach towels. Big boys were playing catch and Frisbee while the
big girls sat around in their bikini tops watching them and giggling. Other big boys were
playing with sparklers and firecrackers.
Lana looked around but she didn't see any of her friends. Then she looked over and saw
Clark Kent, the boy who had sat across from her in art class. His dad was yelling at him
and he was trying not to cry. Lana felt bad for him. She hated being yelled at too.
When his dad left, she walked over to him. "Don't cry," she said. "It'll be okay. It's
fireworks tonight!"
He looked up at her and smiled. "Do you want to see the stars?" he asked her.
She looked up at the sky. "No," he said. "The little stars." He picked up a thin brown stick
and a pink plastic box. When he touched the box a certain way, a flame jumped out of it.
When he touched the flame to the stick, the stick started to shoot silvery sparks into the air.
He smiled and held it out to Lana like it was a flower. "Do you want my stars?" he asked.
Lana reached for the stick, but it was *hot*. She pulled her hand back, blowing on her
fingers. "They're too hot," she said. "You can keep them."
He frowned. "Don't you like them?" he asked, his feelings clearly hurt.
"I like them. They're pretty," she said, smiling. He smiled too, and turned back to the
sparkler. He waved it around in front of Lana's face, watching the stars' reflections in her
midnight-black eyes. He didn't notice his dad coming up behind him.
"Clark Kent, what did I tell you about playing with those?" he demanded angrily. "Now
give me that and if I see another one of these, we're going home. You understand?"
Clark nodded, chagrined. "Good." Clark's dad threw the sparkler on the ground and
stomped it out.
Clark looked sadly at Lana. "He keeps taking my stars away," he said mournfully.
Lana reached out and took his hand. "Come on, I want to show you something." She led
him over to the big woolen blanket Nell had brought for them. She lay down on it, and
Clark cautiously lay down beside her. She pointed at the stars above their heads. "See that?
It's called the Big Dipper," she said proudly. "It's a consolation."
As they lay there, the first of the fireworks shot proudly into the sky, exploding into a ring
of red and blue. Clark and Lana just lay there, watching the fireworks. As the explosions
got bigger, it looked as though the fireworks were right above their heads, ready to fall on
them at any minute. Lana started to get scared.
"It's okay, Lana," Clark told her. "The stars won't hurt you. They stay in the sky, where
they belong."
The watched, enthralled, as blue and red stars and golden chandeliers and bright white
squiggles filled the Smallville skies. When it was over, neither of them wanted to leave.
They got up and started walking over to the part of the field where their parents were. Lana
stopped Clark and pointed to the sky again. "There's another consolation, Ryan," she said,
pointing. Clark looked up, but all he saw was a bright white light shooting across the sky.
Lana screamed. "Did you see that? It was a shooting star!" She ran up to Nell, bouncing
up and down. "I saw a shooting star, Nell! A real shooting star!"
"So did I," said Clark to his mom and dad, who were standing nearby. His mom smiled.
"Really? Wow!" she said. "Fireworks *and* a shooting star, all in one night? You must
be a pretty lucky boy."
Clark smiled and reached up to hug his mom. She hadn't needed to tell him that.
He already knew he was a lucky boy.
watch the fireworks. Except, of course, for two notable exceptions: Nell Potter and her
niece, Lana Lang.
"The poor girl's had enough fireworks for one lifetime, don't you think?" Nell inquired of
everyone who inevitably questioned her absence at the town's biggest annual gathering.
"I'm surprised that any of you take your children there. Don't they remember?"
"No one associates fireworks with the meteor shower," they assured her, but Nell would
have no parts of it. "Lana and I are not going, and that's final."
*************************************************************
Clark loved the fireworks. For him, the Fourth of July was better than Christmas. He loved
all the bright colors. They looked like stars, but they were better than stars. They were
closer, so close that he could almost reach out and touch them. So close that they seemed to
be falling all around him.
Pete's older brothers had brought sparklers and Roman candles. They weren't supposed to
have Roman candles--no one was; the summer had been a dangerously dry one--but of
course the boys couldn't resist. They had chosen an out-of-the-way spot at the back of the
field to set them up, hopefully out of range of their parents' eyes. Pete had had to beg Sam
and Mike to let him and Clark come along and watch them set off their fireworks, and in the
end Sam and Mike told Pete that he would have to do their chores for a week in exchange
for the privilege. For Pete, it was worth it. He loved it when he got to do cool stuff with his
brothers.
They had been warned, of course. Stay far away, no screaming, and no tattling if anything
went wrong. They had a small jug of water in case a fire started, but if anything should
happen that was too big for them to control, they were all just supposed to run away, as fast
as they could and in different directions. Pete and Clark had to swear on the Bible that they
wouldn't tell on Sam and Mike, ever, even under threat of punishment. Mike had gotten out
the big gold-leaf family Bible and *everything*.
Mike carefully set the candle in the grass. They had tried to pick a spot where the grass
wasn't too high or too thick. Satisfied with his handiwork, he struck a match and carefully
lit the candle, jumping back as soon as he saw the flame catch on the fuse.
Clark stood transfixed as the candle spit out white-hot sparks and golden ashes. They
looked like little baby stars, shooting up into the night sky for the very first time. He
wanted to catch one, to hold it in his hand, to have it be *his* and no one else's. He started
towards the candle, but Pete saw him out of the corner of his eye and grabbed Clark's arm,
pulling him back. "No, Clark! It's dangerous!" Pete admonished him. Clark pouted and
continued to watch the candle until it died.
"Wow, man, that was awesome!" exclaimed Sam. He gave Mike a high five. They started
to set up the other two they had brought. Sam thrust a few little sticks into Pete's hand.
"Here, you guys can play with these. Just *be careful*." He also gave Pete a plastic
lighter. "DonÕt let *him* get it," he said, glaring at Clark. Clark glared right back. He
didn't like it when Sam was mean to him. He could tell Pete was mad too. They took the
sparklers and walked back to the big blanket Pete's mom had set up for all of them to sit on.
Pete's parents *and* Clark's were over talking to some other grown-ups, so no one saw the
two seven-year-olds lighting sparklers all by themselves.
Clark had never seen anything as fascinating as the sparkler in his whole life. It was his
dream come true--he was finally getting to hold stars! He watched as the stars jumped and
danced around the little stick he was holding onto, not even noticing the heat from the
sparks as they neared his skin. Beside him, Pete was spinning around with his, making
silver sparks fly in all different directions. That must have been what caught everybody's
attention, for the next thing Clark knew his mom was yelling and his dad was running over
to him.
His dad's eyes widened when he saw Clark holding the nearly extinguished sparkler in his
hand. From his point of view, it looked as though Clark was holding a ball of pure fire.
Clark, oblivious to anything but the sparkly "stars," didn't notice the panicked look on his
dad's face. "Clark, drop that *now*!"
Clark didn't look up. His dad grabbed his arm. "I said drop it, son," he ordered sternly.
Clark obediently dropped the ball of stars on the ground and watched sadly as his father
stomped on it to put it out. A tear fell from one eye as his dad grabbed his hand and
painstakingly examined it, making sure he wasn't hurt.
All he'd wanted was to touch a star.
*************************************************************
Lana Lang was bored. All her friends were out in Chandler's Field watching the fireworks.
Lana had always wanted to go see the fireworks, but mean Aunt Nell would never let her.
She said the fireworks would make Lana sad, because they looked like the meteors that
killed her parents. But Lana's friends told her that the fireworks were pretty, like bright
colored stars, even though they were loud and kind of scary.
"I wanna go see the fireworks!" she whined to Aunt Nell. All day she had begged Nell to
let her go. "Everybody *else* always gets to go to the fireworks! Why can't we go, Nell?
Why why why why why?"
Nell sighed and silently cursed her sister for leaving her with this spoiled, petulant brat.
"Fine," she said. "If you want to go, we'll go. But if you get scared and have nightmares
tonight, don't expect me to sit up half the night listening to you cry."
Lana jumped up and down. "Yay!" she yelled. "We're going to the fireworks!"
*************************************************************
Lana had never seen so many people in her life. Everywhere people were sitting on lawn
chairs and blankets and beach towels. Big boys were playing catch and Frisbee while the
big girls sat around in their bikini tops watching them and giggling. Other big boys were
playing with sparklers and firecrackers.
Lana looked around but she didn't see any of her friends. Then she looked over and saw
Clark Kent, the boy who had sat across from her in art class. His dad was yelling at him
and he was trying not to cry. Lana felt bad for him. She hated being yelled at too.
When his dad left, she walked over to him. "Don't cry," she said. "It'll be okay. It's
fireworks tonight!"
He looked up at her and smiled. "Do you want to see the stars?" he asked her.
She looked up at the sky. "No," he said. "The little stars." He picked up a thin brown stick
and a pink plastic box. When he touched the box a certain way, a flame jumped out of it.
When he touched the flame to the stick, the stick started to shoot silvery sparks into the air.
He smiled and held it out to Lana like it was a flower. "Do you want my stars?" he asked.
Lana reached for the stick, but it was *hot*. She pulled her hand back, blowing on her
fingers. "They're too hot," she said. "You can keep them."
He frowned. "Don't you like them?" he asked, his feelings clearly hurt.
"I like them. They're pretty," she said, smiling. He smiled too, and turned back to the
sparkler. He waved it around in front of Lana's face, watching the stars' reflections in her
midnight-black eyes. He didn't notice his dad coming up behind him.
"Clark Kent, what did I tell you about playing with those?" he demanded angrily. "Now
give me that and if I see another one of these, we're going home. You understand?"
Clark nodded, chagrined. "Good." Clark's dad threw the sparkler on the ground and
stomped it out.
Clark looked sadly at Lana. "He keeps taking my stars away," he said mournfully.
Lana reached out and took his hand. "Come on, I want to show you something." She led
him over to the big woolen blanket Nell had brought for them. She lay down on it, and
Clark cautiously lay down beside her. She pointed at the stars above their heads. "See that?
It's called the Big Dipper," she said proudly. "It's a consolation."
As they lay there, the first of the fireworks shot proudly into the sky, exploding into a ring
of red and blue. Clark and Lana just lay there, watching the fireworks. As the explosions
got bigger, it looked as though the fireworks were right above their heads, ready to fall on
them at any minute. Lana started to get scared.
"It's okay, Lana," Clark told her. "The stars won't hurt you. They stay in the sky, where
they belong."
The watched, enthralled, as blue and red stars and golden chandeliers and bright white
squiggles filled the Smallville skies. When it was over, neither of them wanted to leave.
They got up and started walking over to the part of the field where their parents were. Lana
stopped Clark and pointed to the sky again. "There's another consolation, Ryan," she said,
pointing. Clark looked up, but all he saw was a bright white light shooting across the sky.
Lana screamed. "Did you see that? It was a shooting star!" She ran up to Nell, bouncing
up and down. "I saw a shooting star, Nell! A real shooting star!"
"So did I," said Clark to his mom and dad, who were standing nearby. His mom smiled.
"Really? Wow!" she said. "Fireworks *and* a shooting star, all in one night? You must
be a pretty lucky boy."
Clark smiled and reached up to hug his mom. She hadn't needed to tell him that.
He already knew he was a lucky boy.
