Heading back from lunch, Clark and Pete stopped by their lockers and continued to chatter away about basball, the chosen thread of lunchtime conversation. Pete was still plagued by thoughts of what had Clark so wound up, while Clark continued to subtly establish he couldn't speak of it and change the subject to lighter topics. Still, Pete carried the conversation, deciding it was best not to let his friend settle into his thoughts too deeply. So when Pete reversed after the quick stop for books, he wasn't exactly surprised that Clark was heading in the opposite direction.
"Umm, Clark? Chem is is this way," he prodded gently, pausing to wait for his buddy to catch up.
A dark look slid into place in Clarks eyes, though he kept the rest of his demeanor light. "Actually, I thought I mentioned it at lunch. I have a meeting with the guidance counciler, Mr. Jones, today. He explained that since he's new, he wanted to get to know some of the students. And since we've already met..." he paused, knowing Pete could fill in the blanks. Then, as quickly as the look had grown in his gaze, his eyes brightened and became less conspicous. Pete would never have realized anything was up with his man Clark if he hadn't so much as told him. It struck him abruptly how good of an actor Clark was. He may have been uncomfortable lying outright, but by the he acted, you never would have noticed that he had dark circles under his eyes. And only a good friend examining his face would have seen the stressed, overworked, slightly crumpled aura around him. He looked doleful, Pete decided, under close examination. It dawned on him how many times Clark must have looked that way with no one noticing, probably even his parents. Sombering at the thought, he adapted a strained smile.
"Still after you, huh? Good luck with that," he said, supplying a short wave before taking his leave. As he walked down the hall, he could have sworn he heard Clark's voice grumble, "You're telling me."
Slightly perturbed at the fact Mr. Jones still had an interest, Clark was determined to make him lose it. He had enough on his mind without someone trying to pry into it, especially not a peculiar old man who'd already seen too much. Especially not now. But Clark had practice at acting, at looking easily out the window and changing the subject. He'd just have to employ that skill here and hope it didn't arouse too much more attention.
Lost in thought, he didn't realize it until he was knocking softly on the cool, blue door frame to Mr. Jones office where he was. Hearing consent to enter, Clark did just that, slipping lightly through the doorframe and closing the door with hardly a noise. Turning on his heel, he took a seat at one of the rich leather chairs in front of a grand, mahogany desk, impressed by the quality of the furniture immediatly. 'Obviously not supplyed by the school,' he decided. Glancing through the rest of the small office, he noted various healthy, spiky ferns littered throughout the space, and a bookshelf of beautiful, darkly stained wood to match the desk. Lined up with a manic perscion, he gazed at the numerous volumes on the adolecent mind. Subconciously, he softened his eyes and mentally bookmarked that fact that there were various books on hypnosis and paranormal activity, not to mention the titles on unconvential methods of healing buried deeply on the back of the bottom shelf. He tensed at the thought of them, scanning the rest of the room so as not show interest in the bookshelf. Personally, he'd read most of the books he had and didn't want to get a conversation on them started, knowing that he might accidently show his interest in the topics represented there and that it wouldn't lead to good things. The only other piece of furniture in the room was off to the far right side, where a high-tech coffee maker sat on a high-end table, housed on either side by a few glazed, red cups, coffee paraphernalia, and numerous books that he was certain were just scholarly props. Mr. Jones credentials were displayed lovingly on the wall in laquered frames. If anything it looked more like a movie set the much beloved teacher or highly professional therapist might reside in. And one thing that struck Clark was the meticulousness of it. As though no one actually used this office, it was just for show. 'Maybe it is,' the thought dawning on him.
Post was too long! Here's the rest of it...
Finally, he settled his look on Mr. Jones himself, sipping a cup of coffee of joe near the door. 'He belongs here,' Clark decided, 'he fits the role.' Entirely unnerved by the feeling of the room, Clark realized Mr. Jones had been staring at him the whole time. He had the steady sort of gaze, penetrating without being probing, the look of a person who already knew all the secrets Clark strived to keep to himself. On edge as Clark was, his whole body unconsiously tensed when he noticed it, but still he remained in control of himself. Carefully, he spun back around and set his rusack down, studying the blood-red curtains with an interest. Catiously, he greeted the man behind his back, without turning. "Nice place. Shall we get started?"
"Why don't we?" was the reply as Mr. Jones set the cup down on a coaster absently, strolled around and plopped down in his plush leather chair, obviously enjoying himself. "Well Mr. Kent, how are you today?"
"Fine. Just fine." The words came out breezy and quick, settling Clark to hear his own voice. "I'm missing chem though, so I was hoping this wouldn't take too long?"
Appraising the dark-eyed,
handsome teen for a moment, he nodded. "I understand. You don't want to miss class. I just wanted to get a chance to properly introduce myself and get to know you a little better. We met under unusal circumstances and I didn't want it to inhibit our relationship."
Obviously, the words were meant to be soothing, from the tone in the man's voice, but Clark knew better. This was his round-about way of bringing up the accident. He'd seen all different approaches before and this was his least favorite. Disgruntled Mr. Jones was going to waste his time, Clark decided to take the blunt way in and force the subject open, giving him the upper hand in the conversation. "I meant to ask how you were after that. I know that you weren't hurt like some of the others, but you did seem a bit shaken after the crash."
Peering at him again, Mr. Jones leaned back in chair and interlaced his fingers, setting them on his lap. The look omnipotence about him again, he replied in a measured voice. 'A little too even,' Clark thought, hoping he wasn't just being paranoid. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a few cuts and scratches, and a little bump on the head. You're help was much appreciated there, I know. The teachers are all thankful you stopped."
Not liking the turn in the conversation, Clark replied, just as even, face just as unyeilding. "Glad to. I'm just glad knowing everyone is going to be okay. After all, your medical care carried a few of them through until the paramedics arrived. You mentioned you were in Vietnam, I believe, and that's where you got your skill. Is that right?" Though the transition was not quite as subtle as he would have liked, he knew it's how the conversation would have to be. This man would pick up on every turn he took, reguardless of the pleasantries he made to slip his notice.
"Correct. I helped in an army hospital as an orderly. I gained extensive triage experience there." Staring. Probing. Searching.
"Useful. It sure did help on Saturday. I didn't quite get the full story while I was there. What was a group of teachers doing on a bus back from Metropolis on a Saturday anyway? Everyone seemed to be in a dark mood, even for a traffic accident," Clark said, letting a small smile eclipse his face.
'Persceptive,' Mr. Jones noted. 'Intelligent, too.' There was light in Clarks eyes he liked, a confidence in his stride that wasn't arrogant but sure. Rare for a teenage boy, especally one like him, with the build of a football player. He seemed to have many friends, from what he could tell, and he seemed to naturally draw people to him, though his real friends were few. Popular among peers but not as a friend or through rumors. Intersting. "There was a conference on teaching methods there, but it was changed at the last moment. We weren't informed."
"Oh, okay. Pretty rough day then, huh? I'm sure everyone was grumpy. I wouldn't like to waste precious freetime on a trip to Metropolis if I didn't have to. Will you go back? When was it moved to?" Clark knew he was guiding the conversation, and he liked the power of it, though he was careful not to alert the Harvard graduate know it. If he noticed anything, he would probably just assume he didn't even know what he'd done. Clark was good at looking ignorant.
"Next weekend. Orginally we were scheduled to return, but I sincerely doubt after recent events we will attend." Mr. Jones was, in fact, well aware that Clark was leading the conversation. He didn't mind though, and figured that it was natural for the boy. He seemed to be a born leader, and he would likely do that with everyone.
Clark knew that counciler was paying close attention to his word choice, so he was pushing a persona at him. He decided on the overworked farmboy, in case he noticed the tiredness in his movements. Now that he was here, Clark knew he'd made the right choice. "That's good. I don't think any of you will eager to get on a bus again." His eyes unconciously darted to the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed and the second hand seemed to be just edging by, filling the silence with a blantant tick, tick. "Well, Mr. Jones, if there's nothing else..." he rose, extending his hand and scooping up his books from the floor.
"Actually, Mr. Kent, there is. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling alright after Saturday. I know that those type of events can be rather tramatic on a person, and on top of that, you were thrown quite a way. You were limping Saturday, but you seem better now."
'Damn.' He was forced to settle back in his seat, he'd lost the lead of conversation, and now he was going to have to lie. A smooth smile slid in place. "Yep, doing great. As long as I can get my chores done, I'm good. A little brusied maybe, but it wasn't as far as you seem to think. You must not have seen it straight, what after hitting your head in the wreck. And really, I don't have any issues with the crash, mentally I mean. Though I do appreciate your concern." It was all rehersed, lines he'd mentally played through his all lunch hour. He hoped it didn't show.
"Certainly. And I suppose it's not your first time, after all. You're a bit of legend, around here. Infamous for your various saves, though you are notedly quiet on the subject. Avoiding interviews, saying very little to the police, mostly keeping to yourself and your close friends. You shy away from the spotlight, one might say. Though you've enough to earn a place in it, Lord knows." He fed Clark a look, definitly probing this time. "They must have affected you in some way."
It felt like an ice cube had slipped down his throat, settling in his belly and freezing his insides. 'So this is what you were after.' His interior flinched momentarily at the landslide of sublte accusations, but his exterior remained the same, no sign of hesitation present. In fact, he let one of his famous Kent smiles settle on his lips, as though this was all thoroughly amusing to him, something he'd heard before. "Yeah, I guess I do help people quite a bit. Just luck, usually, that I'm at the scenes of accidnets. Haven't figured out if it's good or bad luck yet." The wattaged settled down a bit, giving him a more sober look. "But I've dealt with those feelings. And I'm just a private person. I shouldn't have to be recognized for helping people. The act is enough. I simply don't need that recognition from people. Don't want it, don't need it." Glancing again at the clock, he rose from his seat. "Now really, this period is nearly over and I can't miss my English exam next period. If you'll excuse me." He stuck out his hand, shaking Mr. Jones' palm with a sincere jolt, scooping his books and bag off the ground and moving quickly but not too fast out of the office.
'Interesting character,' Mr. Jones thought. 'I don't buy a word he spoke though.' Thoughtfully, he recalled the conversation and sat back, eyes closed, meditating. Despite Clarks effort that noramlly would have deterred even his parents, Mr. Jones was only more intrigued by Clark. And he vowed to find out what he was hiding.
Now...thoughts? Feelings? Rant on.
"Umm, Clark? Chem is is this way," he prodded gently, pausing to wait for his buddy to catch up.
A dark look slid into place in Clarks eyes, though he kept the rest of his demeanor light. "Actually, I thought I mentioned it at lunch. I have a meeting with the guidance counciler, Mr. Jones, today. He explained that since he's new, he wanted to get to know some of the students. And since we've already met..." he paused, knowing Pete could fill in the blanks. Then, as quickly as the look had grown in his gaze, his eyes brightened and became less conspicous. Pete would never have realized anything was up with his man Clark if he hadn't so much as told him. It struck him abruptly how good of an actor Clark was. He may have been uncomfortable lying outright, but by the he acted, you never would have noticed that he had dark circles under his eyes. And only a good friend examining his face would have seen the stressed, overworked, slightly crumpled aura around him. He looked doleful, Pete decided, under close examination. It dawned on him how many times Clark must have looked that way with no one noticing, probably even his parents. Sombering at the thought, he adapted a strained smile.
"Still after you, huh? Good luck with that," he said, supplying a short wave before taking his leave. As he walked down the hall, he could have sworn he heard Clark's voice grumble, "You're telling me."
Slightly perturbed at the fact Mr. Jones still had an interest, Clark was determined to make him lose it. He had enough on his mind without someone trying to pry into it, especially not a peculiar old man who'd already seen too much. Especially not now. But Clark had practice at acting, at looking easily out the window and changing the subject. He'd just have to employ that skill here and hope it didn't arouse too much more attention.
Lost in thought, he didn't realize it until he was knocking softly on the cool, blue door frame to Mr. Jones office where he was. Hearing consent to enter, Clark did just that, slipping lightly through the doorframe and closing the door with hardly a noise. Turning on his heel, he took a seat at one of the rich leather chairs in front of a grand, mahogany desk, impressed by the quality of the furniture immediatly. 'Obviously not supplyed by the school,' he decided. Glancing through the rest of the small office, he noted various healthy, spiky ferns littered throughout the space, and a bookshelf of beautiful, darkly stained wood to match the desk. Lined up with a manic perscion, he gazed at the numerous volumes on the adolecent mind. Subconciously, he softened his eyes and mentally bookmarked that fact that there were various books on hypnosis and paranormal activity, not to mention the titles on unconvential methods of healing buried deeply on the back of the bottom shelf. He tensed at the thought of them, scanning the rest of the room so as not show interest in the bookshelf. Personally, he'd read most of the books he had and didn't want to get a conversation on them started, knowing that he might accidently show his interest in the topics represented there and that it wouldn't lead to good things. The only other piece of furniture in the room was off to the far right side, where a high-tech coffee maker sat on a high-end table, housed on either side by a few glazed, red cups, coffee paraphernalia, and numerous books that he was certain were just scholarly props. Mr. Jones credentials were displayed lovingly on the wall in laquered frames. If anything it looked more like a movie set the much beloved teacher or highly professional therapist might reside in. And one thing that struck Clark was the meticulousness of it. As though no one actually used this office, it was just for show. 'Maybe it is,' the thought dawning on him.
Post was too long! Here's the rest of it...
Finally, he settled his look on Mr. Jones himself, sipping a cup of coffee of joe near the door. 'He belongs here,' Clark decided, 'he fits the role.' Entirely unnerved by the feeling of the room, Clark realized Mr. Jones had been staring at him the whole time. He had the steady sort of gaze, penetrating without being probing, the look of a person who already knew all the secrets Clark strived to keep to himself. On edge as Clark was, his whole body unconsiously tensed when he noticed it, but still he remained in control of himself. Carefully, he spun back around and set his rusack down, studying the blood-red curtains with an interest. Catiously, he greeted the man behind his back, without turning. "Nice place. Shall we get started?"
"Why don't we?" was the reply as Mr. Jones set the cup down on a coaster absently, strolled around and plopped down in his plush leather chair, obviously enjoying himself. "Well Mr. Kent, how are you today?"
"Fine. Just fine." The words came out breezy and quick, settling Clark to hear his own voice. "I'm missing chem though, so I was hoping this wouldn't take too long?"
Appraising the dark-eyed,
handsome teen for a moment, he nodded. "I understand. You don't want to miss class. I just wanted to get a chance to properly introduce myself and get to know you a little better. We met under unusal circumstances and I didn't want it to inhibit our relationship."
Obviously, the words were meant to be soothing, from the tone in the man's voice, but Clark knew better. This was his round-about way of bringing up the accident. He'd seen all different approaches before and this was his least favorite. Disgruntled Mr. Jones was going to waste his time, Clark decided to take the blunt way in and force the subject open, giving him the upper hand in the conversation. "I meant to ask how you were after that. I know that you weren't hurt like some of the others, but you did seem a bit shaken after the crash."
Peering at him again, Mr. Jones leaned back in chair and interlaced his fingers, setting them on his lap. The look omnipotence about him again, he replied in a measured voice. 'A little too even,' Clark thought, hoping he wasn't just being paranoid. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a few cuts and scratches, and a little bump on the head. You're help was much appreciated there, I know. The teachers are all thankful you stopped."
Not liking the turn in the conversation, Clark replied, just as even, face just as unyeilding. "Glad to. I'm just glad knowing everyone is going to be okay. After all, your medical care carried a few of them through until the paramedics arrived. You mentioned you were in Vietnam, I believe, and that's where you got your skill. Is that right?" Though the transition was not quite as subtle as he would have liked, he knew it's how the conversation would have to be. This man would pick up on every turn he took, reguardless of the pleasantries he made to slip his notice.
"Correct. I helped in an army hospital as an orderly. I gained extensive triage experience there." Staring. Probing. Searching.
"Useful. It sure did help on Saturday. I didn't quite get the full story while I was there. What was a group of teachers doing on a bus back from Metropolis on a Saturday anyway? Everyone seemed to be in a dark mood, even for a traffic accident," Clark said, letting a small smile eclipse his face.
'Persceptive,' Mr. Jones noted. 'Intelligent, too.' There was light in Clarks eyes he liked, a confidence in his stride that wasn't arrogant but sure. Rare for a teenage boy, especally one like him, with the build of a football player. He seemed to have many friends, from what he could tell, and he seemed to naturally draw people to him, though his real friends were few. Popular among peers but not as a friend or through rumors. Intersting. "There was a conference on teaching methods there, but it was changed at the last moment. We weren't informed."
"Oh, okay. Pretty rough day then, huh? I'm sure everyone was grumpy. I wouldn't like to waste precious freetime on a trip to Metropolis if I didn't have to. Will you go back? When was it moved to?" Clark knew he was guiding the conversation, and he liked the power of it, though he was careful not to alert the Harvard graduate know it. If he noticed anything, he would probably just assume he didn't even know what he'd done. Clark was good at looking ignorant.
"Next weekend. Orginally we were scheduled to return, but I sincerely doubt after recent events we will attend." Mr. Jones was, in fact, well aware that Clark was leading the conversation. He didn't mind though, and figured that it was natural for the boy. He seemed to be a born leader, and he would likely do that with everyone.
Clark knew that counciler was paying close attention to his word choice, so he was pushing a persona at him. He decided on the overworked farmboy, in case he noticed the tiredness in his movements. Now that he was here, Clark knew he'd made the right choice. "That's good. I don't think any of you will eager to get on a bus again." His eyes unconciously darted to the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed and the second hand seemed to be just edging by, filling the silence with a blantant tick, tick. "Well, Mr. Jones, if there's nothing else..." he rose, extending his hand and scooping up his books from the floor.
"Actually, Mr. Kent, there is. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling alright after Saturday. I know that those type of events can be rather tramatic on a person, and on top of that, you were thrown quite a way. You were limping Saturday, but you seem better now."
'Damn.' He was forced to settle back in his seat, he'd lost the lead of conversation, and now he was going to have to lie. A smooth smile slid in place. "Yep, doing great. As long as I can get my chores done, I'm good. A little brusied maybe, but it wasn't as far as you seem to think. You must not have seen it straight, what after hitting your head in the wreck. And really, I don't have any issues with the crash, mentally I mean. Though I do appreciate your concern." It was all rehersed, lines he'd mentally played through his all lunch hour. He hoped it didn't show.
"Certainly. And I suppose it's not your first time, after all. You're a bit of legend, around here. Infamous for your various saves, though you are notedly quiet on the subject. Avoiding interviews, saying very little to the police, mostly keeping to yourself and your close friends. You shy away from the spotlight, one might say. Though you've enough to earn a place in it, Lord knows." He fed Clark a look, definitly probing this time. "They must have affected you in some way."
It felt like an ice cube had slipped down his throat, settling in his belly and freezing his insides. 'So this is what you were after.' His interior flinched momentarily at the landslide of sublte accusations, but his exterior remained the same, no sign of hesitation present. In fact, he let one of his famous Kent smiles settle on his lips, as though this was all thoroughly amusing to him, something he'd heard before. "Yeah, I guess I do help people quite a bit. Just luck, usually, that I'm at the scenes of accidnets. Haven't figured out if it's good or bad luck yet." The wattaged settled down a bit, giving him a more sober look. "But I've dealt with those feelings. And I'm just a private person. I shouldn't have to be recognized for helping people. The act is enough. I simply don't need that recognition from people. Don't want it, don't need it." Glancing again at the clock, he rose from his seat. "Now really, this period is nearly over and I can't miss my English exam next period. If you'll excuse me." He stuck out his hand, shaking Mr. Jones' palm with a sincere jolt, scooping his books and bag off the ground and moving quickly but not too fast out of the office.
'Interesting character,' Mr. Jones thought. 'I don't buy a word he spoke though.' Thoughtfully, he recalled the conversation and sat back, eyes closed, meditating. Despite Clarks effort that noramlly would have deterred even his parents, Mr. Jones was only more intrigued by Clark. And he vowed to find out what he was hiding.
Now...thoughts? Feelings? Rant on.