Author's note: Alrighty, thus far I have 2 more chapters planned, including this one...we'll see if the other one actually materializes or not.
Now, on with the show!!
Clark held the bat in his hand and peered around his shoulder out at his father who pitched the ball. It rose in the air in a smooth fast curve and Clark watched it approach and swung as it neared the plate. The bat and ball connected with a crack and Clark swung through cleanly then stood there to watch where it went: a grounder, right between second and third. He grinned, pleased with himself.
Jonathan was also happy with him. "That was a good one, son," he called to Clark after catching the ball. "But you might be able to hit it a little harder. Not too much more but enough to where you hit a few grounders." Clark nodded and lifted up the bat to hit again.
The sun was setting and darkness was setting in but that was the only time Jonathan had to work with Clark and controlling his strength. This was particularly important today, as Clark was playing baseball in gym the next day and as soon as he had told his dad about that, he'd promised to work with Clark on taming his hitting and throwing. It was frustrating, if anything. They had started simply with Clark just tipping the ball, then moving slowly upwards by degrees until Clark hit the ball hard enough to ensure he'd do well but not hard enough to break someone's hand should they try to catch it. The problem was that Clark got tired of just tipping the ball or whatnot and slipped back to just swinging as he normally would. Jonathan didn't bother going after those balls, or rather, what was left of them. Still, by then, Jonathan seemed satisfied enough. "Now as long you don't get frustrated with having to think about everything, it should work out just fine. Don't forget yourself." Clark nodded as they went in.
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Gym was, for all intents and purposes, Clark's favorite class and not just because he was stronger than everyone else. That made it harder for him because he had to temper is strength but Clark still managed As without even breaking a sweat. So, he wasn't too worried as he lined up along a wall of the gym with the rest of the class. Their teacher stood in front of them, tossing a baseball up in the air as he waited on them. "Alright," he said when they were all there. "We're going to start today with a bit of sprinting from this line," he tapped the ground with his foot, "to the other line," he pointed at the other end of the gym. "Then we'll through the ball around a bit before playing a game. Spread out so you all have room!" Pete and Clark exchanged a look and then spread out. The whistle blew and they were off. Clark ran to the other side of the room and back again almost before the whistle finished blowing and was shocked to find the others only feet away from the start line. He glanced around, confused. "Clark, what're you doing? The whistle means go, not stand around looking at the scenery!" Mr. Mathers shouted at him.
"But I-"
"No buts! Go!" Clark pushed off again, this time paying attention to his runing and moved at a quick run but was still one of the last ones back. Pete must have noticed the confusion and annoyed look on his face because he said, "It doesn't matter, Clark. Mathers yells at everyone, for some reason or another."
Clark shook his head. "No, it's not that it's-" but he stopped when he realized what he would be saying: ' I finished the sprint before he even finished blowing the whistle' sounded ridiculous as a thought.
"What is it?" Pete asked.
Clark hesitated. "Nothing, it was nothing. Let's go get a ball, come on."
The rest of the period, Clark was very careful of all his actions. He panicked once when Pete caught a ball and said, "That was hard!" but then added, "I mean, the other ones were pretty weak," and Clark calmed down a bit.
Still, the rest of the day, Clark couldn't help but wonder why it had happened and, more importantly, how it had happened. He was pretty sure he hadn't imagined it. He'd heard the whistle blow and had run off...he remembered running to the other line...it just seemed too real not to be. But at the same time, it seemed to unreal to be real. 'No one,' he told himself, 'can move that fast.' 'But,' a dissenting voice inside of him said, 'no one is as strong as you, either.' His heart plummeted as he realized this and that it was more than likely he hadn't imagined it at all. Still, there was only one way to be sure...
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Clark probably spent half his life doing chores. Not at one time, of course, but he figured that if counted all he'd done over the course of his life, it had to be around six years. His parents never gave him more than he could handle but Clark figured ifhe could run faster than everyone else, maybe he could get his chores done faster too. He looked around. Fee, hay bayling, and sweeping. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to himself and let go. 'I'm doing it,' he realized. The world seemed like a statue and no matter how fast he moved, Clark felt, it would always be moving slower. Ten minutes later, he was done and presented himself to his father, who was working on the combine in the barn. "Hey, Clark, can you hand me that tool on the bench over there?" Clark zipped over and back and put it in his hand. "Thanks," Jonathan said absently. Clark just stood there and Jonathan finally noticed. "Why are you just standing around? It's not like you have a lack of work to do."
"I'm finished," Clark informed him.
"Excuse me?" Jonathan pulled himself halfway out from underneath the machine. "Clark, you just got home half an hour ago. how the heck could you possibly be finished?"
Clark wondered if it was wise to bring this up when his dad was repairing farm equipment; it always made him grouchy, then he simply shrugged and said, "I did it faster."
"Faster? How much faster? You had to feed the livestock and bale some hay." The irritation in his voice was very clear by this point and Clark couldn't help but respond to it. "I know! I did!" he said just as irritably. "I don't know exactly how I did it I just did. It was like in gym today."
That got his attention. Jonathan sat up. "What happened in gym today?" Clark wasn't entirely sure he wanted totell him now. "Nothing, I mean, everything with the hitting and throwing went well, but we started off by sprinting across the room and back and I swear I did it before Mr. Mathers finished blowing the whistle."
When Jonathan spoke again, the irritation was gone from his voice and was filled instead with a sort of disbelief. "Clark, I don't know how to tell you this but that's not," Jonathan realized what he was saying and who he was saying it to. He tried to back up. "I mean, running back and forth across a gym before he even finished blowing the whistle? That's pretty fast."
Clark felt positively miserable now. "I know but I know I'm not making it up."
Jonathan sighed and put down the tool he was holding. "Tell you what. You know the fence post and the crossroads south of here?" Clar nodded. "It's about a mile there and back. Run there and we'll talk when you getback." Before Jonathan could blink, Clark was gone.
He stood there for a moment, shocked. "Oh, Martha," he said in a singsongy voice. "Life is about to get a lot more interesting."
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Jonathan had barely gotten to the house and started telling Martha about Clark's new ability when Clark was back, not even exhausted. "I went to the barn first," he explained, seeming to pop out of nowhere and causing his parents to jump slightly. "But you weren't there so I came here instead. That took some time." Jonathan looked at his watch. It was about one minute and thirty seconds since Clark had left. "Wow," he said in spite of himself. "A mile in 1.30 that's pretty fast," he admitted. Clark beamed but Martha still looked uncertain. "Clark, are you sure nobody saw you? I mean, you're moving fast enough but still..."
Clark shrugged, seeming rather unconcerned. "I don't think so, the teacher thought I hadn't left yet and even Pete thought I was just mad because he yelled at me."
"And you ran the sprint again?"
"Yeah." Clark reached for an apple and bit into it. "But I didn't run it as fast. I guess it must have just happened cause I wanted to get the sprint over with."
"So you weren't really concentrating on runnint?" Martha asked and Clark shook his head. "I just...," he broke off for a second then continued in a rush. "How can this happen? I mean, no one else can run that fast."
Jonathan winced inwardly when Clark mentioned that. He was afraid he would ask something like that. He looked at Martha, the question 'Should we tell him?' on his lips. She pursed her lips and made a slight movement with her head. No. 'Great,' Jonathan thought. 'I get to play Let's-see-what-I-can-make-up-on-the-spot.' He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, son, we don't know that for sure. You're probably faster than most people but I wouldn't say everyone." Clark looked unconvinced and Jonathan looked to Martha for help.
"Clark," she began, "This is kind of like your strength except you already have it under control, more or less."
This grabbed Clark's attention. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you've always had your strength and there's nothing we can change about that except teach you how to control it and we've done that. But this-you seem to have this pretty well under control."
Jonathan caught on. "Yeah, you said you weren't concentrating so it must just have happened because you didn't concentrate on running just like everyone else."
"But I meant to use it to get my chores done today," Clark objected. "I just sort of let go and then I did it. It was easy."
Jonathan shrugged off the objection. "See? You've already got it under control. It happened because you weren't concentrating and you learned how to make it happen when you were. Now you just have to make sure that it doesn't happen again in school."
Clark didn't like that idea one bit and it showed. "Great," he muttered. "Another skill I have I can't use," he spit out the word 'skill' like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Clark, you've gotten by without this-speed-before," Martha said gently. "It shouldn't be any different now."
"But it is!" Clark shouted. "There's always something I can't do even though I can. I never get a reason."
"Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should, Clark," Jonathan interjected. "That's all we're trying to tell you. We think it would be better if you did not use it. But," this was the risky part, Jonathan knew, "whether you listen to us or not is up to you."
Martha gave him a look like she thought he was crazy but luckily decided to hang with him and see where it was going. "Exactly. We don't mind if you use it on the farm, lie your strength to get your chores done faster or whatever, but other than that, it's not necessary. No matter how fast you can move, you'll still have to sit in school 8 hours every day. Speed simply isn't going to help you there."
Jonathan was relieved to see Clark's resolve break a bit and a look of uncertainty covered his face. "I guess...I'll think about it."
Jonathan thought that sounded great. "Alright, we'll settle for that. Now why don't you go upstairs and see how quickly you can get your homework done?" Jonathan barely got the question out when Clark was gone with a whoosh. "But we expect QUALITY homework," he yelled after him.
"That's going to take some getting used to," Martha said giving Jonathan a look that implied this was somehow his fault. "I'm not sure if I would have told him it was up to him if he listens to us or not."
"I know. I wasn't sure if I should have told him that either but I had to tell him something. He's twelve, Martha, he's not just going to obey everything we say without question anymore."
"I know," Martha replied. "I'm just worried that he's going to tell and show everyone then everything we've done thus far will have been for nothing."
"We'll tell him the truth before that happens," Jonathan said determinedly. "I could have told him today but you didn't want me to."
Martha shook her head. "No, it just didn't seem right. I just-part of me doesn't ever want to tell him while another part of me knows that one day, our explanations aren't going to be good enough anymore and that one day he's going to ask questions we can neither answer nor distract him away from." She took a deep breath. "Fortunately, that wasn't today."
Jonathan nodded. "It'd be easier though, wouldn't it?" If he knew the truth we wouldn't have to act like nothing's wrong and hide the secret from him as well as everyone else."
"Yes, I suppose that's true. But then we'd have to admit that we don't have all the answers and right now, he's still mostly convinced we do."
"Well, I wouldn't say 'convinced'," Jonathan said with a smile. "It's more like suspension of disbelief. He wants to believe we know everything cause the alternative is only that much worse."
Martha responded quietly. "Jonathan, that's nothing new. I think most of us are like that in some way or another."
And that was that. Next week: Clark gets 'the talk'.
Now, on with the show!!
Clark held the bat in his hand and peered around his shoulder out at his father who pitched the ball. It rose in the air in a smooth fast curve and Clark watched it approach and swung as it neared the plate. The bat and ball connected with a crack and Clark swung through cleanly then stood there to watch where it went: a grounder, right between second and third. He grinned, pleased with himself.
Jonathan was also happy with him. "That was a good one, son," he called to Clark after catching the ball. "But you might be able to hit it a little harder. Not too much more but enough to where you hit a few grounders." Clark nodded and lifted up the bat to hit again.
The sun was setting and darkness was setting in but that was the only time Jonathan had to work with Clark and controlling his strength. This was particularly important today, as Clark was playing baseball in gym the next day and as soon as he had told his dad about that, he'd promised to work with Clark on taming his hitting and throwing. It was frustrating, if anything. They had started simply with Clark just tipping the ball, then moving slowly upwards by degrees until Clark hit the ball hard enough to ensure he'd do well but not hard enough to break someone's hand should they try to catch it. The problem was that Clark got tired of just tipping the ball or whatnot and slipped back to just swinging as he normally would. Jonathan didn't bother going after those balls, or rather, what was left of them. Still, by then, Jonathan seemed satisfied enough. "Now as long you don't get frustrated with having to think about everything, it should work out just fine. Don't forget yourself." Clark nodded as they went in.
***************************************************************************
Gym was, for all intents and purposes, Clark's favorite class and not just because he was stronger than everyone else. That made it harder for him because he had to temper is strength but Clark still managed As without even breaking a sweat. So, he wasn't too worried as he lined up along a wall of the gym with the rest of the class. Their teacher stood in front of them, tossing a baseball up in the air as he waited on them. "Alright," he said when they were all there. "We're going to start today with a bit of sprinting from this line," he tapped the ground with his foot, "to the other line," he pointed at the other end of the gym. "Then we'll through the ball around a bit before playing a game. Spread out so you all have room!" Pete and Clark exchanged a look and then spread out. The whistle blew and they were off. Clark ran to the other side of the room and back again almost before the whistle finished blowing and was shocked to find the others only feet away from the start line. He glanced around, confused. "Clark, what're you doing? The whistle means go, not stand around looking at the scenery!" Mr. Mathers shouted at him.
"But I-"
"No buts! Go!" Clark pushed off again, this time paying attention to his runing and moved at a quick run but was still one of the last ones back. Pete must have noticed the confusion and annoyed look on his face because he said, "It doesn't matter, Clark. Mathers yells at everyone, for some reason or another."
Clark shook his head. "No, it's not that it's-" but he stopped when he realized what he would be saying: ' I finished the sprint before he even finished blowing the whistle' sounded ridiculous as a thought.
"What is it?" Pete asked.
Clark hesitated. "Nothing, it was nothing. Let's go get a ball, come on."
The rest of the period, Clark was very careful of all his actions. He panicked once when Pete caught a ball and said, "That was hard!" but then added, "I mean, the other ones were pretty weak," and Clark calmed down a bit.
Still, the rest of the day, Clark couldn't help but wonder why it had happened and, more importantly, how it had happened. He was pretty sure he hadn't imagined it. He'd heard the whistle blow and had run off...he remembered running to the other line...it just seemed too real not to be. But at the same time, it seemed to unreal to be real. 'No one,' he told himself, 'can move that fast.' 'But,' a dissenting voice inside of him said, 'no one is as strong as you, either.' His heart plummeted as he realized this and that it was more than likely he hadn't imagined it at all. Still, there was only one way to be sure...
***************************************************************************
Clark probably spent half his life doing chores. Not at one time, of course, but he figured that if counted all he'd done over the course of his life, it had to be around six years. His parents never gave him more than he could handle but Clark figured ifhe could run faster than everyone else, maybe he could get his chores done faster too. He looked around. Fee, hay bayling, and sweeping. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to himself and let go. 'I'm doing it,' he realized. The world seemed like a statue and no matter how fast he moved, Clark felt, it would always be moving slower. Ten minutes later, he was done and presented himself to his father, who was working on the combine in the barn. "Hey, Clark, can you hand me that tool on the bench over there?" Clark zipped over and back and put it in his hand. "Thanks," Jonathan said absently. Clark just stood there and Jonathan finally noticed. "Why are you just standing around? It's not like you have a lack of work to do."
"I'm finished," Clark informed him.
"Excuse me?" Jonathan pulled himself halfway out from underneath the machine. "Clark, you just got home half an hour ago. how the heck could you possibly be finished?"
Clark wondered if it was wise to bring this up when his dad was repairing farm equipment; it always made him grouchy, then he simply shrugged and said, "I did it faster."
"Faster? How much faster? You had to feed the livestock and bale some hay." The irritation in his voice was very clear by this point and Clark couldn't help but respond to it. "I know! I did!" he said just as irritably. "I don't know exactly how I did it I just did. It was like in gym today."
That got his attention. Jonathan sat up. "What happened in gym today?" Clark wasn't entirely sure he wanted totell him now. "Nothing, I mean, everything with the hitting and throwing went well, but we started off by sprinting across the room and back and I swear I did it before Mr. Mathers finished blowing the whistle."
When Jonathan spoke again, the irritation was gone from his voice and was filled instead with a sort of disbelief. "Clark, I don't know how to tell you this but that's not," Jonathan realized what he was saying and who he was saying it to. He tried to back up. "I mean, running back and forth across a gym before he even finished blowing the whistle? That's pretty fast."
Clark felt positively miserable now. "I know but I know I'm not making it up."
Jonathan sighed and put down the tool he was holding. "Tell you what. You know the fence post and the crossroads south of here?" Clar nodded. "It's about a mile there and back. Run there and we'll talk when you getback." Before Jonathan could blink, Clark was gone.
He stood there for a moment, shocked. "Oh, Martha," he said in a singsongy voice. "Life is about to get a lot more interesting."
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Jonathan had barely gotten to the house and started telling Martha about Clark's new ability when Clark was back, not even exhausted. "I went to the barn first," he explained, seeming to pop out of nowhere and causing his parents to jump slightly. "But you weren't there so I came here instead. That took some time." Jonathan looked at his watch. It was about one minute and thirty seconds since Clark had left. "Wow," he said in spite of himself. "A mile in 1.30 that's pretty fast," he admitted. Clark beamed but Martha still looked uncertain. "Clark, are you sure nobody saw you? I mean, you're moving fast enough but still..."
Clark shrugged, seeming rather unconcerned. "I don't think so, the teacher thought I hadn't left yet and even Pete thought I was just mad because he yelled at me."
"And you ran the sprint again?"
"Yeah." Clark reached for an apple and bit into it. "But I didn't run it as fast. I guess it must have just happened cause I wanted to get the sprint over with."
"So you weren't really concentrating on runnint?" Martha asked and Clark shook his head. "I just...," he broke off for a second then continued in a rush. "How can this happen? I mean, no one else can run that fast."
Jonathan winced inwardly when Clark mentioned that. He was afraid he would ask something like that. He looked at Martha, the question 'Should we tell him?' on his lips. She pursed her lips and made a slight movement with her head. No. 'Great,' Jonathan thought. 'I get to play Let's-see-what-I-can-make-up-on-the-spot.' He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, son, we don't know that for sure. You're probably faster than most people but I wouldn't say everyone." Clark looked unconvinced and Jonathan looked to Martha for help.
"Clark," she began, "This is kind of like your strength except you already have it under control, more or less."
This grabbed Clark's attention. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you've always had your strength and there's nothing we can change about that except teach you how to control it and we've done that. But this-you seem to have this pretty well under control."
Jonathan caught on. "Yeah, you said you weren't concentrating so it must just have happened because you didn't concentrate on running just like everyone else."
"But I meant to use it to get my chores done today," Clark objected. "I just sort of let go and then I did it. It was easy."
Jonathan shrugged off the objection. "See? You've already got it under control. It happened because you weren't concentrating and you learned how to make it happen when you were. Now you just have to make sure that it doesn't happen again in school."
Clark didn't like that idea one bit and it showed. "Great," he muttered. "Another skill I have I can't use," he spit out the word 'skill' like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Clark, you've gotten by without this-speed-before," Martha said gently. "It shouldn't be any different now."
"But it is!" Clark shouted. "There's always something I can't do even though I can. I never get a reason."
"Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should, Clark," Jonathan interjected. "That's all we're trying to tell you. We think it would be better if you did not use it. But," this was the risky part, Jonathan knew, "whether you listen to us or not is up to you."
Martha gave him a look like she thought he was crazy but luckily decided to hang with him and see where it was going. "Exactly. We don't mind if you use it on the farm, lie your strength to get your chores done faster or whatever, but other than that, it's not necessary. No matter how fast you can move, you'll still have to sit in school 8 hours every day. Speed simply isn't going to help you there."
Jonathan was relieved to see Clark's resolve break a bit and a look of uncertainty covered his face. "I guess...I'll think about it."
Jonathan thought that sounded great. "Alright, we'll settle for that. Now why don't you go upstairs and see how quickly you can get your homework done?" Jonathan barely got the question out when Clark was gone with a whoosh. "But we expect QUALITY homework," he yelled after him.
"That's going to take some getting used to," Martha said giving Jonathan a look that implied this was somehow his fault. "I'm not sure if I would have told him it was up to him if he listens to us or not."
"I know. I wasn't sure if I should have told him that either but I had to tell him something. He's twelve, Martha, he's not just going to obey everything we say without question anymore."
"I know," Martha replied. "I'm just worried that he's going to tell and show everyone then everything we've done thus far will have been for nothing."
"We'll tell him the truth before that happens," Jonathan said determinedly. "I could have told him today but you didn't want me to."
Martha shook her head. "No, it just didn't seem right. I just-part of me doesn't ever want to tell him while another part of me knows that one day, our explanations aren't going to be good enough anymore and that one day he's going to ask questions we can neither answer nor distract him away from." She took a deep breath. "Fortunately, that wasn't today."
Jonathan nodded. "It'd be easier though, wouldn't it?" If he knew the truth we wouldn't have to act like nothing's wrong and hide the secret from him as well as everyone else."
"Yes, I suppose that's true. But then we'd have to admit that we don't have all the answers and right now, he's still mostly convinced we do."
"Well, I wouldn't say 'convinced'," Jonathan said with a smile. "It's more like suspension of disbelief. He wants to believe we know everything cause the alternative is only that much worse."
Martha responded quietly. "Jonathan, that's nothing new. I think most of us are like that in some way or another."
And that was that. Next week: Clark gets 'the talk'.