CLARK
I heard Lex's Jaguar before I heard him in my barn.
Not for the first time in the past half hour since I sent his driver back, I regretted it. I should have just taken the limousine and gone to the Prom alone, it would avoid questions. I should have predicted it then, Lex would come here to check up on me. For a man so indecipherable, he lives his life in a pretty readable pattern.
I knew he would check up on me. He's my best friend, after all. If he didn't, he wouldn't be my best friend.
I keep that in mind because I'm getting dangerously close to resenting him for attempting to shine some light on my already rained-on parade.
"Clark," he says.
"Hey Lex," I reply, amiably. The light-hearted tone of my voice surprises me.
He takes a few steps around me and I see him for the first time this evening. Remembering the fact that he's going to a school Prom with Chloe and not one of his many ultra-glamorous dinner parties with an equally glamorous date, he's looking pretty good.
Never a man who wastes time, he says, " Your mom told me about Lana."
I think about what to reply to that and decide to just not to. In a way I'm relieved. At least I wouldn't have to tell him what happened. Unfortunately, Lex doesn't seem to want to say something until I say something so I say, "Right," or something that sounds like that.
He says, "So what are you planning to do?" Which is typically Lex. Don't recuperate, plan your revenge.
For lack of a better word, I shrug.
"You have your options," he says, taking more deliberate steps back and forth, "You can mope around here for the lifelong night or you can go to the Prom anyway and at least attempt to have some fun with your friends."
Go to the Prom anyway? Of course I thought about it. Otherwise I wouldn't be dressed up to the nines in a barn. But yes, I thought about it, and I wondered about it, and I decided that moping around here seemed like a much better option than moping around at the Prom in solitude with the object of my moping in full view.
"I don't know, Lex."
"Well, you certainly thought about it," he points out. "Otherwise I wouldn't see the point of you being dressed up in a barn."
"It seems like a sad thing to do."
"What is?"
"This," I show him the bouquet of yellow roses. "Going alone. Smiling. It's too tiring, Lex."
He doesn't reply, just stands with his hands in his pockets, contemplating me. I'm not sure what it is exactly that he's thinking about, because of all my skills, I'm definitely no mind reader, but I'm beginning to get the feeling that he's thinking of the favor I asked him to do, to take my friend to the Prom because I felt that she didn't want to go alone.
And here I am saying that I don't want to go alone because it's a sad thing to do, when I could have avoided this altogether by not asking another guy's girl to the Prom, and had gone with my best friend instead, who by now, is waiting at her house and probably getting pretty impatient, waiting for my other best friend, that I set her up with.
The irony being that now I'm the one left alone.
Lex breaks my thoughts, "It's hardly the end of the world, Clark."
I try my utmost to sound agreeable but unfortunately end up sounding dejected, "I guess."
He gives me that long measuring look again, seems to make a decision, and says, "Tell you what, Clark. Come to the Prom with Chloe and me."
Right. Because being a third wheel is so much better than going alone. "No thanks."
"So are you just going to stay here all night?"
Sometimes Lex's urge to better everything can just tire you out, which is another irony because that's usually my job. I decide to compromise, "Tell you what. Maybe I'll see you guys there later, okay?" without any intention of actually following up on it.
Lex doesn't reply, just studies me with that scrutinizing look of his, probably trying to figure out if I meant what I said, but I suppose more likely wondering if he should let me get away with that lie I just told him.
Then finally, "Okay."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"I have to go and pick Chloe up," he says. "So I'll see you later, Clark."
I nod and smile at him. "Absolutely."
"Just make sure you meet us there."
I wave that away nonchalantly. "Absolutely."
He observes me again, for a minute, before saying, "Okay." Then he starts walking away.
And just before the moment where I'm ready to kick off my shoes and settle into my couch for a good long night of nothing to do, he turns back and says, "Or maybe you could do me a favor instead, Clark."
CHLOE
Half an hour to the minute that Lex called me to say he'll be late and I have successfully ruined my Prom dress by sweating excessively in it and my sweat glands are now all set to make another conquest over my hair.
Half an hour, thirty minutes, all spent cursing the Luthor family generation and in particular their latest family addition of their fortune, who has, by all the worse quirks of fate, come to Smallville to run a plant and in the meanwhile be saved by Clark Kent and hence become friends with him and hence enter my life, and with the life saving gratitude in his mind, agree to escort me to the Prom as a favor to Clark, which has resulted in me sitting here on this couch sweating profusely in a beautiful Prom dress and cursing the day that Lex Luthor entered my life and Clark for saving him to make this possible and Lionel Luthor for being putting him in Smallville in the first place.
Oh horrible twist of fate, don't ruin my hair now.
CLARK
I blink once. Twice. Three times. Even try a bit of x-ray vision.
And Lex is still there, proposition in the air, looking a bit uncertain but steady.
"What?" I say.
"Take Chloe to the Prom."
He's insane, but I'll forgive him for this, because of the obvious fact that he doesn't know Chloe very well to even think of such a thing. "I don't feel like committing suicide tonight, Lex." He looks at me questioningly. "Not only will I be taking away her biggest interview, I'll also be insulting her by taking her as a last ditch Prom date."
"She's your friend," Lex replies. "Would she consider herself a substitute for Lana?"
"Well…."
"Is she?" he persists.
"No! No, definitely not."
"There you go," he says, probably triumphantly, probably wearily. "Take her. Take her off of my hands." And with that, he turns around abruptly and starts walking away.
And I stare at his back, still registering his last words. Off of his hands? Was Chloe really that much of a burden to him? I don't know if I should feel guilty for putting him through everything or to feel insulted for Chloe and punch him through the wall.
"Lex, you went through all that trouble for me."
"Exactly," he says, going down the steps. "You'll be doing me a favor now, Clark. Save me from an interview and a revival of my own horrendous teenage past. You might be doing my reputation with her father a favor too."
I hear all of this, believe me I do. But there's just one other thing that I need to clear, for the sake of a really good friend and for my own peace of mind. "But would you have minded going with Chloe?"
He stops at that question, and it takes a few seconds for him to say, "Not at all."
This relieves me, a bit. At least now I know that it wasn't totally in vain, getting Lex to take Chloe to the Prom. "I don't think she'd even want to go with me, Lex."
He laughs, or something, I'm not sure because I've never heard Lex laugh before. "Then obviously one of us understands Chloe better than the other."
And that's me. I find myself wrestling with this. Right?
"Go Clark," he says, making a move again. "Have fun. Tell me how it goes."
And with that, he's gone. Without leaving me much of an option.
Or maybe he did, because I could stop him. I could still stop him, put my hand on his shoulder, and tell him to go with Chloe, because I really don't feel like facing the Prom tonight.
But instead, I gather my roses and my corsage, at least thankful that it wouldn't go to waste, and head out. To pick Chloe up for the Prom.
CHLOE
Dad looks pointedly at the clock.
"He has a very good reason," I say adamantly, but it's now strained. I'm starting to fail to see the purpose of covering up for him, being on the butt end of this nightmare.
"Of course he does," Dad replies. "He's Lex Luthor. He has an answer to everything. I should know honey, I work for the man…" he's cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Relief floods over me, and some cool air too because I think my sweat has dissipated some, and I jump up and rush to the door in the manner of a very pathetic teenaged girl with a crush (except it's not a crush, just relief) and fling the door open, not even angry anymore, but with the greatest overwhelming urge to hug Lex Luthor for showing up at all.
I stop myself, however, when I see hair where there shouldn't be.
Clark smiles impishly at me, bouquet of yellow roses in hand, wearing a dark blue suit, looking as gorgeous as he usually does in my dreams where I imagine him to come to my house, with a nervous smile on his face, ready to pick me up for the Prom.
"Hi Chloe," he says.
The sound of his voice jolts me back to reality and the realization that this is no dream, this really is Clark in front of me, dressed up for me, with a bouquet of roses for me, ready to take me to the Prom.
And in this abnormally big mouth of mine, I seem to have lost my tongue. After about ten hours of speech loss, I'm beginning to suspect that it has been cut off and shipped away from me to an unknown country maybe on the island of Borneo.
Here I start thinking about other things. About planes. Years and years ago, I was 6 years old I think, I went aboard a plane to New York (or somewhere) with my parents. I can't remember most of the details of the flight, especially now when Clark's looking at me weirdly because I've reached the ten second time limit for reasonable stunned silences, but the thing I do remember is the take-off.
The loud buzzing and the rush in your ears as the plane accelerates fast enough to keep your heart in your throat before releasing itself finally into the air, soaring about the country, into the clouds and above.
Flying itself is no big deal. It's the taking off that counts. I can define some of my most pleasant rushes as a take-off. And those pleasant rushes usually come in the form of Clark Kent's smile.
But oddly enough, this is how I would imagine crashing.
LEX
I loosen the tie I went through so much pain to fix, pour myself a scotch and lean back in my seat, watching the flames flickering in the fireplace in front of me.
Through the powers of persuasion, I've managed to save myself from an interview and an evening of disaster and at the same time, cheered my best friend up by letting him go to the Prom with my original date.
And more likely, after the shock has worn off her, do my date a great big favor by giving her Clark Kent, the man she wanted to go to the Prom with in the first place, and probably the one she would always want to go with.
A three-in-one. Yahoo Lex.
My glass of scotch in my hand, I lift it up to the flames in an ironic toast.
Victory.
Yet here I am, feeling like all kinds of shit.
I heard Lex's Jaguar before I heard him in my barn.
Not for the first time in the past half hour since I sent his driver back, I regretted it. I should have just taken the limousine and gone to the Prom alone, it would avoid questions. I should have predicted it then, Lex would come here to check up on me. For a man so indecipherable, he lives his life in a pretty readable pattern.
I knew he would check up on me. He's my best friend, after all. If he didn't, he wouldn't be my best friend.
I keep that in mind because I'm getting dangerously close to resenting him for attempting to shine some light on my already rained-on parade.
"Clark," he says.
"Hey Lex," I reply, amiably. The light-hearted tone of my voice surprises me.
He takes a few steps around me and I see him for the first time this evening. Remembering the fact that he's going to a school Prom with Chloe and not one of his many ultra-glamorous dinner parties with an equally glamorous date, he's looking pretty good.
Never a man who wastes time, he says, " Your mom told me about Lana."
I think about what to reply to that and decide to just not to. In a way I'm relieved. At least I wouldn't have to tell him what happened. Unfortunately, Lex doesn't seem to want to say something until I say something so I say, "Right," or something that sounds like that.
He says, "So what are you planning to do?" Which is typically Lex. Don't recuperate, plan your revenge.
For lack of a better word, I shrug.
"You have your options," he says, taking more deliberate steps back and forth, "You can mope around here for the lifelong night or you can go to the Prom anyway and at least attempt to have some fun with your friends."
Go to the Prom anyway? Of course I thought about it. Otherwise I wouldn't be dressed up to the nines in a barn. But yes, I thought about it, and I wondered about it, and I decided that moping around here seemed like a much better option than moping around at the Prom in solitude with the object of my moping in full view.
"I don't know, Lex."
"Well, you certainly thought about it," he points out. "Otherwise I wouldn't see the point of you being dressed up in a barn."
"It seems like a sad thing to do."
"What is?"
"This," I show him the bouquet of yellow roses. "Going alone. Smiling. It's too tiring, Lex."
He doesn't reply, just stands with his hands in his pockets, contemplating me. I'm not sure what it is exactly that he's thinking about, because of all my skills, I'm definitely no mind reader, but I'm beginning to get the feeling that he's thinking of the favor I asked him to do, to take my friend to the Prom because I felt that she didn't want to go alone.
And here I am saying that I don't want to go alone because it's a sad thing to do, when I could have avoided this altogether by not asking another guy's girl to the Prom, and had gone with my best friend instead, who by now, is waiting at her house and probably getting pretty impatient, waiting for my other best friend, that I set her up with.
The irony being that now I'm the one left alone.
Lex breaks my thoughts, "It's hardly the end of the world, Clark."
I try my utmost to sound agreeable but unfortunately end up sounding dejected, "I guess."
He gives me that long measuring look again, seems to make a decision, and says, "Tell you what, Clark. Come to the Prom with Chloe and me."
Right. Because being a third wheel is so much better than going alone. "No thanks."
"So are you just going to stay here all night?"
Sometimes Lex's urge to better everything can just tire you out, which is another irony because that's usually my job. I decide to compromise, "Tell you what. Maybe I'll see you guys there later, okay?" without any intention of actually following up on it.
Lex doesn't reply, just studies me with that scrutinizing look of his, probably trying to figure out if I meant what I said, but I suppose more likely wondering if he should let me get away with that lie I just told him.
Then finally, "Okay."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"I have to go and pick Chloe up," he says. "So I'll see you later, Clark."
I nod and smile at him. "Absolutely."
"Just make sure you meet us there."
I wave that away nonchalantly. "Absolutely."
He observes me again, for a minute, before saying, "Okay." Then he starts walking away.
And just before the moment where I'm ready to kick off my shoes and settle into my couch for a good long night of nothing to do, he turns back and says, "Or maybe you could do me a favor instead, Clark."
CHLOE
Half an hour to the minute that Lex called me to say he'll be late and I have successfully ruined my Prom dress by sweating excessively in it and my sweat glands are now all set to make another conquest over my hair.
Half an hour, thirty minutes, all spent cursing the Luthor family generation and in particular their latest family addition of their fortune, who has, by all the worse quirks of fate, come to Smallville to run a plant and in the meanwhile be saved by Clark Kent and hence become friends with him and hence enter my life, and with the life saving gratitude in his mind, agree to escort me to the Prom as a favor to Clark, which has resulted in me sitting here on this couch sweating profusely in a beautiful Prom dress and cursing the day that Lex Luthor entered my life and Clark for saving him to make this possible and Lionel Luthor for being putting him in Smallville in the first place.
Oh horrible twist of fate, don't ruin my hair now.
CLARK
I blink once. Twice. Three times. Even try a bit of x-ray vision.
And Lex is still there, proposition in the air, looking a bit uncertain but steady.
"What?" I say.
"Take Chloe to the Prom."
He's insane, but I'll forgive him for this, because of the obvious fact that he doesn't know Chloe very well to even think of such a thing. "I don't feel like committing suicide tonight, Lex." He looks at me questioningly. "Not only will I be taking away her biggest interview, I'll also be insulting her by taking her as a last ditch Prom date."
"She's your friend," Lex replies. "Would she consider herself a substitute for Lana?"
"Well…."
"Is she?" he persists.
"No! No, definitely not."
"There you go," he says, probably triumphantly, probably wearily. "Take her. Take her off of my hands." And with that, he turns around abruptly and starts walking away.
And I stare at his back, still registering his last words. Off of his hands? Was Chloe really that much of a burden to him? I don't know if I should feel guilty for putting him through everything or to feel insulted for Chloe and punch him through the wall.
"Lex, you went through all that trouble for me."
"Exactly," he says, going down the steps. "You'll be doing me a favor now, Clark. Save me from an interview and a revival of my own horrendous teenage past. You might be doing my reputation with her father a favor too."
I hear all of this, believe me I do. But there's just one other thing that I need to clear, for the sake of a really good friend and for my own peace of mind. "But would you have minded going with Chloe?"
He stops at that question, and it takes a few seconds for him to say, "Not at all."
This relieves me, a bit. At least now I know that it wasn't totally in vain, getting Lex to take Chloe to the Prom. "I don't think she'd even want to go with me, Lex."
He laughs, or something, I'm not sure because I've never heard Lex laugh before. "Then obviously one of us understands Chloe better than the other."
And that's me. I find myself wrestling with this. Right?
"Go Clark," he says, making a move again. "Have fun. Tell me how it goes."
And with that, he's gone. Without leaving me much of an option.
Or maybe he did, because I could stop him. I could still stop him, put my hand on his shoulder, and tell him to go with Chloe, because I really don't feel like facing the Prom tonight.
But instead, I gather my roses and my corsage, at least thankful that it wouldn't go to waste, and head out. To pick Chloe up for the Prom.
CHLOE
Dad looks pointedly at the clock.
"He has a very good reason," I say adamantly, but it's now strained. I'm starting to fail to see the purpose of covering up for him, being on the butt end of this nightmare.
"Of course he does," Dad replies. "He's Lex Luthor. He has an answer to everything. I should know honey, I work for the man…" he's cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Relief floods over me, and some cool air too because I think my sweat has dissipated some, and I jump up and rush to the door in the manner of a very pathetic teenaged girl with a crush (except it's not a crush, just relief) and fling the door open, not even angry anymore, but with the greatest overwhelming urge to hug Lex Luthor for showing up at all.
I stop myself, however, when I see hair where there shouldn't be.
Clark smiles impishly at me, bouquet of yellow roses in hand, wearing a dark blue suit, looking as gorgeous as he usually does in my dreams where I imagine him to come to my house, with a nervous smile on his face, ready to pick me up for the Prom.
"Hi Chloe," he says.
The sound of his voice jolts me back to reality and the realization that this is no dream, this really is Clark in front of me, dressed up for me, with a bouquet of roses for me, ready to take me to the Prom.
And in this abnormally big mouth of mine, I seem to have lost my tongue. After about ten hours of speech loss, I'm beginning to suspect that it has been cut off and shipped away from me to an unknown country maybe on the island of Borneo.
Here I start thinking about other things. About planes. Years and years ago, I was 6 years old I think, I went aboard a plane to New York (or somewhere) with my parents. I can't remember most of the details of the flight, especially now when Clark's looking at me weirdly because I've reached the ten second time limit for reasonable stunned silences, but the thing I do remember is the take-off.
The loud buzzing and the rush in your ears as the plane accelerates fast enough to keep your heart in your throat before releasing itself finally into the air, soaring about the country, into the clouds and above.
Flying itself is no big deal. It's the taking off that counts. I can define some of my most pleasant rushes as a take-off. And those pleasant rushes usually come in the form of Clark Kent's smile.
But oddly enough, this is how I would imagine crashing.
LEX
I loosen the tie I went through so much pain to fix, pour myself a scotch and lean back in my seat, watching the flames flickering in the fireplace in front of me.
Through the powers of persuasion, I've managed to save myself from an interview and an evening of disaster and at the same time, cheered my best friend up by letting him go to the Prom with my original date.
And more likely, after the shock has worn off her, do my date a great big favor by giving her Clark Kent, the man she wanted to go to the Prom with in the first place, and probably the one she would always want to go with.
A three-in-one. Yahoo Lex.
My glass of scotch in my hand, I lift it up to the flames in an ironic toast.
Victory.
Yet here I am, feeling like all kinds of shit.