The first few months after Clark's arrival passed quickly enough and after that, it seemed as though he had always been with them. The months melted into years and soon, Clark was six, going on seven. For the last couple of years, Martha had simply homeschooled him, a relatively easy task comparing to others the years had brought. He grasped concepts easily but the problem of his pronunciation and speech remained: he just said certain things strangely. After listening to Clark practice his trouble words one night after dinner, Jonathan screwed up his face and said, "Good lord, Martha, we can't send him to school like that. People are going to think he's Canadian or something."
"Well, for all they know he could be," Martha said with a non-commital shrug.
"Dad, what's Canadian?" Clark asked.
"Funny people who live in a strange, frozen country north of here where the people say 'about' like 'a boot' and 'been' 'bean'."
Clark look disgusted and insulted. "I don't do that!"
Jonathan laughed at Clark's indignation. "It's a very near thing, son."
"In any case," Martha inturrupted loudly, "Clark will be going to school this year whether he sounds like a Canadian or not. It's high time."
Clark fell silent and his parents knew it wasn't out of a silent, unexpressed joy at the affirmation of his future schooling. "Can I go to bed now?" he said suddenly and Martha nodded at him and Jonathan watch as his son ran carefully up the stairs.
"I don't think he's exactly thrilled at this idea, Martha," he said as soon as they heard the door to Clark's room slam.
"Well, what would you expect? Here he finished his lessons in about 4 hours everyday and had the rest of the time to do what he wanted. He'll be spending 8 hours everday in school, not to mention homework."
"Yeah, I know...but I don't know if that's what's bothering him. He's gotten quiet ever since we brought it up."
"Maybe I should go up and talk to him about it..." Martha said quietly.
"Yeah, I think it'd be a good idea."
Martha knocked on Clark's closed door and heard a "come in" and opened it to find Clark sitting on the floor in his pajamas playing with an old erector set that had once belonged to Jonathan. "Hey, I thought you said you were going to bed." He shrugged and she tried again. "You didn't look to thrilled when we mentioned school again today, Clark."
"I don't want to go." His response was brief, as they were apt to be.
"Why not? It'll be just like it is here at home, only Pete will be there too and you'll make other friends too."
"I know. But I don't see why I can't just stay here. I LIKE learning out here and then I help out on the farm, too." He looked at his mother with a sudden gleam in his eyes. "I can help more on the farm. I can---."
"Clark," Martha said, cutting him off. "It's not a matter of working more on the farm. It's a matter of what's best for you. We don't go into town much out here and you can't spend your whole life with Pete as your only contact to the outside world." She smiled at him encouragingly. "It's for the best."
"What if I do something I shouldn't?" The change in the conversation was so abrupt it almost caught Martha off guard. Was that what he was really worried about, she wondered. That he would use his strength? They had delicately taught him over the past four years to control himself so that his grip on this was gentle and did not crush kittens or break plates. They had patiently watched his frustration with himself when he failed to do things properly time after time, resulting in a split beam or something. They had even managed to make him realize that, even though his ability was good for farm work, it may not be the best idea to show his friend Pete how he could lift up the truck. But it had never occured to Martha that he knew it doing so would be horribly wrong nor that Clark was afraid he would.
"Clark, you have a good control over things and your father and I don't think it will be that much of an issue at school. You can write without breaking the pencil now, I've seen you." Clark smiled a bit about this. "I bet you'll even be smarter than most of the kids in the class. She straightened up and Clark stood up with her. "Come on, don't worry about it. Everything will be alright but now it's time for bed."
A bit reluctantly, Clark lay down in his bed and Martha tucked him. "Good night, Clark."
"G'night, mom."
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After the door shut, Clark frowned to himself in the darkness. His strength had been his last gamble as a way to keep from going to school but it hadn't worked. Somehow he'd known it wouldn't but had tried anyway. He stared at the dark ceiling above him wondering if he should tell her the real reason. No, he thought. They'll laugh. They won't take me seriously. How could he make them realize that he was really very afraid that he would go to school one day and then when got home, they wouldn't be there? It ached just thinking about it. Clark turned over on his side, but it was just as uncomfortable as lying on his back. A feeling of lonliness so intense and so real crept over him so that it was all he could do not to run back downstairs where his parents were.
He'd often had this feeling and when he was younger it brought him night after night to his parents room. He'd go up to their bed where they'd be rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and asking, "Clark, what's wrong?" in sleepy voices. "I couldn't sleep," he had alway said and they let him sleep in their bed until morning. After a while, Clark no longer went to their room, but camped outside on the hallway floor in front of it in a sleeping bag. The nightly coughs and creeps he could hear from there made him feel not quite so alone...
Now that he was six, however, this had stopped. Clark knew he couldn't keep on camping outside his parents bedroom everytime he had a bad dream and the fact that he met Pete and Pete didn't do this made the issue even clearer to him. To a six year old, not being a baby is the most important thing on the mind and not wanting to look like a baby in the eyes of his peer played an even bigger role.
His friend had had a hard enough time understanding why Clark didn't go to school and one part of Clark felt compelled to go to school and go through the same things as Pete did but the other (and much more vocal) part of him insisted that if he did leave, he would never come back. He would never see his mother and father again.
Clark squeezed his eyes shut at the fear that filled his throat threatening to choke him at this thoat. He refused to open them and lay there paralysed until sleep finally claimed him.
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"Clark, honestly, you have to concentrate," Martha said with a hint of frustration in her voice. "I have no idea where your mind is but if it doesn't come back to this table, I don't think you're going to have any opportunity to see Pete today."
Clark sighed and stared and the schoolwork in front of him. "I don't want to do it," he said under his voice, but his mother heard anyway. "It doesn't matter if you want to do it or not. Once you're in school you're going to have to finish up your work no matter what mood you're in."
This ended it for Clark. "I don't care," he yelled. "I don't want to go to school, I don't want to leave--" he broke off, his voice strained impossibly.
Martha finally inturrupted the silence that followed. "Clark, why is it you don't want to go to school? The reason you gave me last night wasn't the real one now was it?"
Clark swallowed and shook his head--he didn't trust himself to speak. "Then what wasn't."
"I'm--I'm," the words stuck in his throat. "I'm afraid that you won't be here when I come back. That I'll leave and when I come back you and dad won't be here." Ashamed, he kept his eyes lowered and didn't dare look at his mother. She would be laughing, he knew it...
But Martha didn't laugh. Instead she took him in her arms. "Clark, don't worry. Your father and I aren't going to go anywhere for a very long time. We'll be here when you get on the bus in the morning and we'll be here when you come back in the afternoon. It'll be just like when one of us goes into town to pick up things--we always come back. Only this time it'll be you leaving and not us. But you'll still come back."
Still, Clark's fears were not entirely assauged. "I don't want to be alone," he whispered.
"Clark, you won't be alone. I promise you that. Everyday when you get on the bus, one of us will be here when you come back. Okay?"
Dumbly, he nodded but he didn't really feel as though he believed her. "Alright then," Martha said, seemingly satisfied. "Now why don't you go outside now and see if your dad needs help with anything? You can finish up your schoolwork later." Clark grinned and ran quickly out the door, leaving Martha in the kitchen.
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That night Martha lay in bed next to Jonathan, both of them exhausted as they usually were but she didn't rest as easily as she might have and Jonathan noticed this. "What's wrong? You're tossing and turning like you forgot to do something important."
"Maybe I did, but that's not what's bothering me."
"Then what is?"
No use beating around the bush, she thought. "Do you think Clark remembers anything about how he came here?"
Jonathan shrugged. "I don't know. He has said anything about it. I mean, he knows he's adopted, but I don't think it's crossed his mind to wonder how he got here. Why?"
"He told me today the reason he was afraid to do go to school. He was worried that if he went, we wouldn't be here when he came back. That he'd be all alone."
"Like he was until he came here?"
"That's what I'm thinking. Maybe the emotions he felt coming here are still there. Remember how he was when he first came here? I don't think there was a single night when he wasn't clinging to one of us."
"Yeah," she snuggled in closer to her husband. "Now he's always in his bed, no more camping outside of the door or anything."
She could almost see Jonathan's smile in the dark. "Maybe we should put that to use..."
Martha laughed quietly. "Yeah, maybe..." but Martha wasn't finished talking yet and Jonathan could tell. "Look," he said finally. "It could be that on some level, Clark is still very much afraid he's going be sent away again. Maybe he doesn't remember exactly why, maybe he doesn't want to. We can't change that, Martha. Neither one of us can reach into his mind and--" he searched for an appropriate phrase."
"Iron out any psychological wrinkles he might have?" Martha filled in helpfully.
"Exactly. Let's just watch and see. He'll be alright, Martha. Trust me."
I always have, Martha thought to herself.
Author's note: Well, this one's a bit longer I guess...I'm slowly working up to Clark's school experience...maybe in the next fic we'll hear about the event Pete talked about where Clark threw the bully into the door and caused it to splinter..hehe...can't wait to see the Kents reactions...
Oh and by the way: I'm making all of this in the second grade, even though Pete mentions that Clark threw the bully when they were in the first grade simply because it doesn't make sense that Clark should be afraid of his parents leaving him
when he's already been going to school for one year...it just didn't seem like it would work quite as well to me :)
"Well, for all they know he could be," Martha said with a non-commital shrug.
"Dad, what's Canadian?" Clark asked.
"Funny people who live in a strange, frozen country north of here where the people say 'about' like 'a boot' and 'been' 'bean'."
Clark look disgusted and insulted. "I don't do that!"
Jonathan laughed at Clark's indignation. "It's a very near thing, son."
"In any case," Martha inturrupted loudly, "Clark will be going to school this year whether he sounds like a Canadian or not. It's high time."
Clark fell silent and his parents knew it wasn't out of a silent, unexpressed joy at the affirmation of his future schooling. "Can I go to bed now?" he said suddenly and Martha nodded at him and Jonathan watch as his son ran carefully up the stairs.
"I don't think he's exactly thrilled at this idea, Martha," he said as soon as they heard the door to Clark's room slam.
"Well, what would you expect? Here he finished his lessons in about 4 hours everyday and had the rest of the time to do what he wanted. He'll be spending 8 hours everday in school, not to mention homework."
"Yeah, I know...but I don't know if that's what's bothering him. He's gotten quiet ever since we brought it up."
"Maybe I should go up and talk to him about it..." Martha said quietly.
"Yeah, I think it'd be a good idea."
Martha knocked on Clark's closed door and heard a "come in" and opened it to find Clark sitting on the floor in his pajamas playing with an old erector set that had once belonged to Jonathan. "Hey, I thought you said you were going to bed." He shrugged and she tried again. "You didn't look to thrilled when we mentioned school again today, Clark."
"I don't want to go." His response was brief, as they were apt to be.
"Why not? It'll be just like it is here at home, only Pete will be there too and you'll make other friends too."
"I know. But I don't see why I can't just stay here. I LIKE learning out here and then I help out on the farm, too." He looked at his mother with a sudden gleam in his eyes. "I can help more on the farm. I can---."
"Clark," Martha said, cutting him off. "It's not a matter of working more on the farm. It's a matter of what's best for you. We don't go into town much out here and you can't spend your whole life with Pete as your only contact to the outside world." She smiled at him encouragingly. "It's for the best."
"What if I do something I shouldn't?" The change in the conversation was so abrupt it almost caught Martha off guard. Was that what he was really worried about, she wondered. That he would use his strength? They had delicately taught him over the past four years to control himself so that his grip on this was gentle and did not crush kittens or break plates. They had patiently watched his frustration with himself when he failed to do things properly time after time, resulting in a split beam or something. They had even managed to make him realize that, even though his ability was good for farm work, it may not be the best idea to show his friend Pete how he could lift up the truck. But it had never occured to Martha that he knew it doing so would be horribly wrong nor that Clark was afraid he would.
"Clark, you have a good control over things and your father and I don't think it will be that much of an issue at school. You can write without breaking the pencil now, I've seen you." Clark smiled a bit about this. "I bet you'll even be smarter than most of the kids in the class. She straightened up and Clark stood up with her. "Come on, don't worry about it. Everything will be alright but now it's time for bed."
A bit reluctantly, Clark lay down in his bed and Martha tucked him. "Good night, Clark."
"G'night, mom."
***************************************************************************
After the door shut, Clark frowned to himself in the darkness. His strength had been his last gamble as a way to keep from going to school but it hadn't worked. Somehow he'd known it wouldn't but had tried anyway. He stared at the dark ceiling above him wondering if he should tell her the real reason. No, he thought. They'll laugh. They won't take me seriously. How could he make them realize that he was really very afraid that he would go to school one day and then when got home, they wouldn't be there? It ached just thinking about it. Clark turned over on his side, but it was just as uncomfortable as lying on his back. A feeling of lonliness so intense and so real crept over him so that it was all he could do not to run back downstairs where his parents were.
He'd often had this feeling and when he was younger it brought him night after night to his parents room. He'd go up to their bed where they'd be rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and asking, "Clark, what's wrong?" in sleepy voices. "I couldn't sleep," he had alway said and they let him sleep in their bed until morning. After a while, Clark no longer went to their room, but camped outside on the hallway floor in front of it in a sleeping bag. The nightly coughs and creeps he could hear from there made him feel not quite so alone...
Now that he was six, however, this had stopped. Clark knew he couldn't keep on camping outside his parents bedroom everytime he had a bad dream and the fact that he met Pete and Pete didn't do this made the issue even clearer to him. To a six year old, not being a baby is the most important thing on the mind and not wanting to look like a baby in the eyes of his peer played an even bigger role.
His friend had had a hard enough time understanding why Clark didn't go to school and one part of Clark felt compelled to go to school and go through the same things as Pete did but the other (and much more vocal) part of him insisted that if he did leave, he would never come back. He would never see his mother and father again.
Clark squeezed his eyes shut at the fear that filled his throat threatening to choke him at this thoat. He refused to open them and lay there paralysed until sleep finally claimed him.
**************************************************************************
"Clark, honestly, you have to concentrate," Martha said with a hint of frustration in her voice. "I have no idea where your mind is but if it doesn't come back to this table, I don't think you're going to have any opportunity to see Pete today."
Clark sighed and stared and the schoolwork in front of him. "I don't want to do it," he said under his voice, but his mother heard anyway. "It doesn't matter if you want to do it or not. Once you're in school you're going to have to finish up your work no matter what mood you're in."
This ended it for Clark. "I don't care," he yelled. "I don't want to go to school, I don't want to leave--" he broke off, his voice strained impossibly.
Martha finally inturrupted the silence that followed. "Clark, why is it you don't want to go to school? The reason you gave me last night wasn't the real one now was it?"
Clark swallowed and shook his head--he didn't trust himself to speak. "Then what wasn't."
"I'm--I'm," the words stuck in his throat. "I'm afraid that you won't be here when I come back. That I'll leave and when I come back you and dad won't be here." Ashamed, he kept his eyes lowered and didn't dare look at his mother. She would be laughing, he knew it...
But Martha didn't laugh. Instead she took him in her arms. "Clark, don't worry. Your father and I aren't going to go anywhere for a very long time. We'll be here when you get on the bus in the morning and we'll be here when you come back in the afternoon. It'll be just like when one of us goes into town to pick up things--we always come back. Only this time it'll be you leaving and not us. But you'll still come back."
Still, Clark's fears were not entirely assauged. "I don't want to be alone," he whispered.
"Clark, you won't be alone. I promise you that. Everyday when you get on the bus, one of us will be here when you come back. Okay?"
Dumbly, he nodded but he didn't really feel as though he believed her. "Alright then," Martha said, seemingly satisfied. "Now why don't you go outside now and see if your dad needs help with anything? You can finish up your schoolwork later." Clark grinned and ran quickly out the door, leaving Martha in the kitchen.
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That night Martha lay in bed next to Jonathan, both of them exhausted as they usually were but she didn't rest as easily as she might have and Jonathan noticed this. "What's wrong? You're tossing and turning like you forgot to do something important."
"Maybe I did, but that's not what's bothering me."
"Then what is?"
No use beating around the bush, she thought. "Do you think Clark remembers anything about how he came here?"
Jonathan shrugged. "I don't know. He has said anything about it. I mean, he knows he's adopted, but I don't think it's crossed his mind to wonder how he got here. Why?"
"He told me today the reason he was afraid to do go to school. He was worried that if he went, we wouldn't be here when he came back. That he'd be all alone."
"Like he was until he came here?"
"That's what I'm thinking. Maybe the emotions he felt coming here are still there. Remember how he was when he first came here? I don't think there was a single night when he wasn't clinging to one of us."
"Yeah," she snuggled in closer to her husband. "Now he's always in his bed, no more camping outside of the door or anything."
She could almost see Jonathan's smile in the dark. "Maybe we should put that to use..."
Martha laughed quietly. "Yeah, maybe..." but Martha wasn't finished talking yet and Jonathan could tell. "Look," he said finally. "It could be that on some level, Clark is still very much afraid he's going be sent away again. Maybe he doesn't remember exactly why, maybe he doesn't want to. We can't change that, Martha. Neither one of us can reach into his mind and--" he searched for an appropriate phrase."
"Iron out any psychological wrinkles he might have?" Martha filled in helpfully.
"Exactly. Let's just watch and see. He'll be alright, Martha. Trust me."
I always have, Martha thought to herself.
Author's note: Well, this one's a bit longer I guess...I'm slowly working up to Clark's school experience...maybe in the next fic we'll hear about the event Pete talked about where Clark threw the bully into the door and caused it to splinter..hehe...can't wait to see the Kents reactions...
Oh and by the way: I'm making all of this in the second grade, even though Pete mentions that Clark threw the bully when they were in the first grade simply because it doesn't make sense that Clark should be afraid of his parents leaving him
when he's already been going to school for one year...it just didn't seem like it would work quite as well to me :)