Chloe Sullivan. Why did he smile everytime he thought of her? She was
unlike any other girl. She wasn't ditzy and over-obsess about make up,
hair, clothes, guys and other such shallow matters. She was smart and
spunky-No. Not spunky. If you call a girl like Chloe Sullivan "spunky",
she'll most likely throw something at you causing you to lose consiousness,
drag you somehwere deep into the woods and maim you. She was.snarky. Yes.
A much better word to describe the petite blonde: Snarky.
He could have any girl he wanted. He was good looking and had a great sense of humor. Being on the football team didn't hurt either. So why Chloe? Why not Lana Lang or some other cheerleader?
Pete Ross rolled over in his bed and grabbed a picture that sat on his nightstand. He laid on his back and held the picture in the air above his face. It was picture of himself, Clark and most importantly, Chloe sitting at a table at the Talon. Lana had been taking pictures that day to put in her scrapbook. She had made a few copies and gave them to her friends, encouraging everybody else to keep jornals and scrapbooks, because you never know when your orphaned children may want a glimpse into your life. Lana was obsessed with her dead parents. It sometimes bugged Pete a little.
Pete traced Chloe's image with his fingers. For a white girl, she sure was pretty, and ten times more amazing. He couldn't believe that Clark couldn't see that. He was mad at the farmboy for leaving Chloe at the dance to rescue yon damsel in distress, aka Lana Lang. It was his fault that Chloe had gotten hit by those drunk drivers. It was his fault Chloe lay a mess of blood and flesh on the road. Okay, so it turned out not to be that bad, but still.None of it wouldn't have happened if Clark hadn't run off.
And what surprised Pete even more was the fact that Chloe forgave him. He couldn't understand why, but he had a feeling that Lex "Let's-screw-the- Ross-family" Luthor had something to do with it. Okay, so it wasn't Lex that screwed his family twelve years ago. It was his father, Lionel Luthor. But the proverbial apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Pete sighed and kissed the picture before putting it back onto his nightstand. He rolled over and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders and drifted off to sleep.
Jonathan Kent woke up suddenly. He looked at the clock which read 12:30 am. He looked over to his beautiful wife sleeping next to him. She was out cold. Only God, himself could wake her. He couldn't blame her. She had a rough two days. The tornado, Nixon, the spaceship, amnesia, Redd restoring her memory in just the matter of minutes.It overwhelmed him just thinking about everything Martha had been thru.
Jonathan threw the covers off of him and got up. It was summer, but the storm had left everything feeling like winter. Most tornadoes don't have that after-affect on the weather. The wooden flor felt cold on his bare feet as he made his way to the bathroom. He put a glass under the running faucet. He took a few gulps and splashed the rest on his face. He just woke up from a night mare.
He had dreamed that Lionel Luthor had come to their farm and stood right outside his bedroom window, dressed as Romeo from Shakespeare's tragedy, "Romeo and Juliet." As if seeing Lionel in tights wasn't nightmarish enough, he began reciting poetry to Martha, who was standing before the bedroom window dressed like Juliet. She was absolutely gorgeous.
He then dreamed that Martha confessed her undying love to Lionel and how running away with Jonathan was the biggest mistake of her life. She jumped out the window and was caught by Lionel. She wrapped her arms around the bearded man and they engaged in a passionate kiss.
Jonathan had run out from the front door, looking like a Beverly Hillbilly, with a pitchfork in his hand. Jonathan then demanded that Lionel release his wife. He even sounded like a Hillbilly. Martha began to laugh at her husband as Lionel set her down and drew a sword. "Kill my husband, dear lover," she told Lionel, "so as we may be able to wed on the morrow."
Lionel lunged at Jonathan with his sword. He was a master fencer. All Jonathan had was his pitchfork. He dodged the first strike, but Lionel got him the second time. Jonathan didn't even have the time to make a reataliation. Lionel had got him straight thru the heart and out his back. Lionel pulled back the sword and wiped Jonathan's blood off of it with and embroidered silk handkerchief. Jonathan collapsed, dying. He looked at Martha. "I.I l-love.you."
Martha smirked at Jonathan. "And I love Lionel," she said before turning and making-out with Lionel.
That's when Jonathan woke up. The dream had disturbed him plenty. Infact, he had to try earnestly to keep his crying from waking up Martha.
Chloe's face was lit up with the light from her computer. She couldn't sleep. Her head was hurting and where prescription painkillers failed, the glow of her monitor succeeded. She had long ago finished typing up an article on how local convenience stores should be more careful when selling alchohol. She decided she'd start work early on her "End-of-the-Year" edition of the Torch.
She started going thru some old articles. Copying and pasting only the most memorable. This month's budget had been doubled, which meant that more color pictures could be added. Thus began the search thru her harddrive for compelling pictures to be added to the last edition. She started to feel like she was running the yearbook instead of the school paper after looking thru what seemed to be a million pictures. Then she came across one that made her stop and just stare for a few minutes.
It was picture of the school play she had done in the eighth grade. It wasn't one of those plays where you had to audition. It was the kind where the teacher said, "Do it or I'll fail you!" Chloe had no choice, neither did anybody else. The play was "Robin Hood and His Merry Men." Clark had been given the role of Robin Hood, in which he absolutely sucked. But even then, he looked incredibly sexy in his costume. Once Chloe found out that he had been cast as the lead, she wanted to be Maid Miriam. But as luck would have it, that part went to Lana Lang. Chloe got stuck with Maid Miriam's "Lady in Waiting." Waiting as in, waiting for Robin to open his eyes and see what a truly great girlfriend "The Lady" could be.
Chloe pushed her chair away from her desk and swiveled around, turning her back to the computer. She looked down at her feet and fiddled her thumbs. She let out a great big sigh as a single tear rolled down her rosy cheek. "Oh Clark," she whispered. "Why not me?"
Chloe Sullivan. It was pretty name. Chloe Luthor. Now that had an even better ring to it. "Stop it, Lex," the bald, young man told himself. He got up off his European, plush, leather recliner and walked over to the fireplace. He stuck in a few logs to which the fire responded with a roar. It reminded him of Chloe. The way you can say something and it only fuels the fire of her mind. The way her blonde hair flares out and bounces on her shoulder. They way her-"Stop it, Lex."
Lex Luthor made his way over to his personal bar, where he prepared a glass of wine for himself. He went and sat back down in his recliner, where he found himself thinking about Chloe Sullivan again. "Stop it, Lex," he told himself this time, only to have an answer come from the back of his mind. "I can't."
Lex set his glass down on the table beside him, almost in frustration. Lex wanted to stop thinking about the girl. It wasn't healthy. After talking with her in the hospital yesterday, he couldn't stop picturing her lovely face and hearing her sweet voice. It was her words that had convinced him to stay in Smallville to fight his tyrant father. But was that the real reason he was staying? Or was he staying for a reason with blonde hair and green eyes? A debate soon took place in Lex' mind between the proverbial angel and the devil.
It won't work out.
Why not?
Her father works for you.
So I'll fire him.
That'll work. 'Hello, Miss Sullivan, I fired your father. Care to join me for dinner sometime?'
So I'll give him a promotion instead.
It still won't work. You're almost twenty-two. She's-what?-Fifteen? Sixteen? That kind of love could get you arrested.
No I won't. I've got money. A few pay-offs and we're fine.
Money won't solve everything. What if it gets too serious, Lex? What if she gets pregnant?
The devil didn't have an answer to that last question. "You're right," Lex told himself out loud. "It won't work.But she'll be eighteen in a couple of years." Lex smiled at this thought.
He opened his eyes and fell. He didn't fall far, just a few inches. He was doing it again. Floating, that is. Clark sat up and scrathed his head, hoping he hadn't woken anyone up when he hit his mattress. Clark was hungry. He needed a snack. He climbed out of bed and proceeded downstairs. He only managed to get halfway down the stairwell when he realized that the kitchen had been destroyed in the fire and there was't anything to eat. He turned around to go upstairs when he heard a voice.
"I thought I heard someone moving around up there." Redd sat up on the couch where she had been trying to fall asleep. "I figured it was you when I did a mindscan and found that your parents were still asleep."
Clark looked at the small frail. "What time is it?" he said groggily.
Redd looked at the old grandfather clock standing on the one side of the livingroom that had remained untouched by the blaze. "4:04," she said softly.
Clark groaned. "Why aren't you asleep?"
Redd shrugged. "I guess I'm used to sleeping for only a total of three hours a day.Sleep doesn't come easliy to one who worries most about how much longer thay have to live." Redd didn't pause long before changing the subject. "Something is bothering you."
"How can you tell?" Clark asked, coming down the stairs.
"You may be impervious to my telepathy, but I still have the same instincts and perceptions any normal person would."
Clark sat down on the couch next to the fiery-haired girl. She had done it up in a braid so it would not tangle as she slept. "Have you ever had.feelings.for two people at the same time? I mean.romantic feelings?"
Redd shook her head. "No. I can't say that I have."
Swell. That made Clark feel all the more comfortable with the subject.
"I take it there are two girls that you like very much," Redd said.
Clark nodded. "There's this one girl that I really, really like. Then there's this other girl that I also like. But I really, really like the first one."
Redd almost laughed at Clark's choice of less sophisticated words. "But."
"But," Clark continued, "I took the second one to the school dance. Then this whole tornado thing happened. I got worried about the first girl. I took off, leaving the second one at the dance, to rescue the first girl. I barely made it in time.She's in a coma in the hospital. They don't think she'll make it."
Redd shuddered. She didn't like death. She had seen too much of it and experienced it too often in the minds of others. "Did you say she was in a coma?"
Clark nodded. "Yeah."
"Is she alright aside from that?" Redd asked. "What I mean is, she doesn't have any other serious wounds or anything of the sort?"
Clark shook his head. "Nothing that she couldn't recover from.A broken rib, a punctured lung.But the doctor said it wasn't too bad. She could be just fine if she just woke up. They think the head trauma is what's killing her. Her brain's swollen."
"Can you get me in to see her?"
Clark thought the question was quite odd. "Yeah.Sure.Why?"
"I can use my telekinetic powers to stop this girl's brain from swelling. Then I can use my telepathy to pull her from her coma, thus waking her."
Clark's eyes brightened. "You can do all that?"
Redd nodded. "I'm quite advanced."
Clark cracked his trademark smile. "I'll take you in the morning."
He could have any girl he wanted. He was good looking and had a great sense of humor. Being on the football team didn't hurt either. So why Chloe? Why not Lana Lang or some other cheerleader?
Pete Ross rolled over in his bed and grabbed a picture that sat on his nightstand. He laid on his back and held the picture in the air above his face. It was picture of himself, Clark and most importantly, Chloe sitting at a table at the Talon. Lana had been taking pictures that day to put in her scrapbook. She had made a few copies and gave them to her friends, encouraging everybody else to keep jornals and scrapbooks, because you never know when your orphaned children may want a glimpse into your life. Lana was obsessed with her dead parents. It sometimes bugged Pete a little.
Pete traced Chloe's image with his fingers. For a white girl, she sure was pretty, and ten times more amazing. He couldn't believe that Clark couldn't see that. He was mad at the farmboy for leaving Chloe at the dance to rescue yon damsel in distress, aka Lana Lang. It was his fault that Chloe had gotten hit by those drunk drivers. It was his fault Chloe lay a mess of blood and flesh on the road. Okay, so it turned out not to be that bad, but still.None of it wouldn't have happened if Clark hadn't run off.
And what surprised Pete even more was the fact that Chloe forgave him. He couldn't understand why, but he had a feeling that Lex "Let's-screw-the- Ross-family" Luthor had something to do with it. Okay, so it wasn't Lex that screwed his family twelve years ago. It was his father, Lionel Luthor. But the proverbial apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Pete sighed and kissed the picture before putting it back onto his nightstand. He rolled over and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders and drifted off to sleep.
Jonathan Kent woke up suddenly. He looked at the clock which read 12:30 am. He looked over to his beautiful wife sleeping next to him. She was out cold. Only God, himself could wake her. He couldn't blame her. She had a rough two days. The tornado, Nixon, the spaceship, amnesia, Redd restoring her memory in just the matter of minutes.It overwhelmed him just thinking about everything Martha had been thru.
Jonathan threw the covers off of him and got up. It was summer, but the storm had left everything feeling like winter. Most tornadoes don't have that after-affect on the weather. The wooden flor felt cold on his bare feet as he made his way to the bathroom. He put a glass under the running faucet. He took a few gulps and splashed the rest on his face. He just woke up from a night mare.
He had dreamed that Lionel Luthor had come to their farm and stood right outside his bedroom window, dressed as Romeo from Shakespeare's tragedy, "Romeo and Juliet." As if seeing Lionel in tights wasn't nightmarish enough, he began reciting poetry to Martha, who was standing before the bedroom window dressed like Juliet. She was absolutely gorgeous.
He then dreamed that Martha confessed her undying love to Lionel and how running away with Jonathan was the biggest mistake of her life. She jumped out the window and was caught by Lionel. She wrapped her arms around the bearded man and they engaged in a passionate kiss.
Jonathan had run out from the front door, looking like a Beverly Hillbilly, with a pitchfork in his hand. Jonathan then demanded that Lionel release his wife. He even sounded like a Hillbilly. Martha began to laugh at her husband as Lionel set her down and drew a sword. "Kill my husband, dear lover," she told Lionel, "so as we may be able to wed on the morrow."
Lionel lunged at Jonathan with his sword. He was a master fencer. All Jonathan had was his pitchfork. He dodged the first strike, but Lionel got him the second time. Jonathan didn't even have the time to make a reataliation. Lionel had got him straight thru the heart and out his back. Lionel pulled back the sword and wiped Jonathan's blood off of it with and embroidered silk handkerchief. Jonathan collapsed, dying. He looked at Martha. "I.I l-love.you."
Martha smirked at Jonathan. "And I love Lionel," she said before turning and making-out with Lionel.
That's when Jonathan woke up. The dream had disturbed him plenty. Infact, he had to try earnestly to keep his crying from waking up Martha.
Chloe's face was lit up with the light from her computer. She couldn't sleep. Her head was hurting and where prescription painkillers failed, the glow of her monitor succeeded. She had long ago finished typing up an article on how local convenience stores should be more careful when selling alchohol. She decided she'd start work early on her "End-of-the-Year" edition of the Torch.
She started going thru some old articles. Copying and pasting only the most memorable. This month's budget had been doubled, which meant that more color pictures could be added. Thus began the search thru her harddrive for compelling pictures to be added to the last edition. She started to feel like she was running the yearbook instead of the school paper after looking thru what seemed to be a million pictures. Then she came across one that made her stop and just stare for a few minutes.
It was picture of the school play she had done in the eighth grade. It wasn't one of those plays where you had to audition. It was the kind where the teacher said, "Do it or I'll fail you!" Chloe had no choice, neither did anybody else. The play was "Robin Hood and His Merry Men." Clark had been given the role of Robin Hood, in which he absolutely sucked. But even then, he looked incredibly sexy in his costume. Once Chloe found out that he had been cast as the lead, she wanted to be Maid Miriam. But as luck would have it, that part went to Lana Lang. Chloe got stuck with Maid Miriam's "Lady in Waiting." Waiting as in, waiting for Robin to open his eyes and see what a truly great girlfriend "The Lady" could be.
Chloe pushed her chair away from her desk and swiveled around, turning her back to the computer. She looked down at her feet and fiddled her thumbs. She let out a great big sigh as a single tear rolled down her rosy cheek. "Oh Clark," she whispered. "Why not me?"
Chloe Sullivan. It was pretty name. Chloe Luthor. Now that had an even better ring to it. "Stop it, Lex," the bald, young man told himself. He got up off his European, plush, leather recliner and walked over to the fireplace. He stuck in a few logs to which the fire responded with a roar. It reminded him of Chloe. The way you can say something and it only fuels the fire of her mind. The way her blonde hair flares out and bounces on her shoulder. They way her-"Stop it, Lex."
Lex Luthor made his way over to his personal bar, where he prepared a glass of wine for himself. He went and sat back down in his recliner, where he found himself thinking about Chloe Sullivan again. "Stop it, Lex," he told himself this time, only to have an answer come from the back of his mind. "I can't."
Lex set his glass down on the table beside him, almost in frustration. Lex wanted to stop thinking about the girl. It wasn't healthy. After talking with her in the hospital yesterday, he couldn't stop picturing her lovely face and hearing her sweet voice. It was her words that had convinced him to stay in Smallville to fight his tyrant father. But was that the real reason he was staying? Or was he staying for a reason with blonde hair and green eyes? A debate soon took place in Lex' mind between the proverbial angel and the devil.
It won't work out.
Why not?
Her father works for you.
So I'll fire him.
That'll work. 'Hello, Miss Sullivan, I fired your father. Care to join me for dinner sometime?'
So I'll give him a promotion instead.
It still won't work. You're almost twenty-two. She's-what?-Fifteen? Sixteen? That kind of love could get you arrested.
No I won't. I've got money. A few pay-offs and we're fine.
Money won't solve everything. What if it gets too serious, Lex? What if she gets pregnant?
The devil didn't have an answer to that last question. "You're right," Lex told himself out loud. "It won't work.But she'll be eighteen in a couple of years." Lex smiled at this thought.
He opened his eyes and fell. He didn't fall far, just a few inches. He was doing it again. Floating, that is. Clark sat up and scrathed his head, hoping he hadn't woken anyone up when he hit his mattress. Clark was hungry. He needed a snack. He climbed out of bed and proceeded downstairs. He only managed to get halfway down the stairwell when he realized that the kitchen had been destroyed in the fire and there was't anything to eat. He turned around to go upstairs when he heard a voice.
"I thought I heard someone moving around up there." Redd sat up on the couch where she had been trying to fall asleep. "I figured it was you when I did a mindscan and found that your parents were still asleep."
Clark looked at the small frail. "What time is it?" he said groggily.
Redd looked at the old grandfather clock standing on the one side of the livingroom that had remained untouched by the blaze. "4:04," she said softly.
Clark groaned. "Why aren't you asleep?"
Redd shrugged. "I guess I'm used to sleeping for only a total of three hours a day.Sleep doesn't come easliy to one who worries most about how much longer thay have to live." Redd didn't pause long before changing the subject. "Something is bothering you."
"How can you tell?" Clark asked, coming down the stairs.
"You may be impervious to my telepathy, but I still have the same instincts and perceptions any normal person would."
Clark sat down on the couch next to the fiery-haired girl. She had done it up in a braid so it would not tangle as she slept. "Have you ever had.feelings.for two people at the same time? I mean.romantic feelings?"
Redd shook her head. "No. I can't say that I have."
Swell. That made Clark feel all the more comfortable with the subject.
"I take it there are two girls that you like very much," Redd said.
Clark nodded. "There's this one girl that I really, really like. Then there's this other girl that I also like. But I really, really like the first one."
Redd almost laughed at Clark's choice of less sophisticated words. "But."
"But," Clark continued, "I took the second one to the school dance. Then this whole tornado thing happened. I got worried about the first girl. I took off, leaving the second one at the dance, to rescue the first girl. I barely made it in time.She's in a coma in the hospital. They don't think she'll make it."
Redd shuddered. She didn't like death. She had seen too much of it and experienced it too often in the minds of others. "Did you say she was in a coma?"
Clark nodded. "Yeah."
"Is she alright aside from that?" Redd asked. "What I mean is, she doesn't have any other serious wounds or anything of the sort?"
Clark shook his head. "Nothing that she couldn't recover from.A broken rib, a punctured lung.But the doctor said it wasn't too bad. She could be just fine if she just woke up. They think the head trauma is what's killing her. Her brain's swollen."
"Can you get me in to see her?"
Clark thought the question was quite odd. "Yeah.Sure.Why?"
"I can use my telekinetic powers to stop this girl's brain from swelling. Then I can use my telepathy to pull her from her coma, thus waking her."
Clark's eyes brightened. "You can do all that?"
Redd nodded. "I'm quite advanced."
Clark cracked his trademark smile. "I'll take you in the morning."