Around two, while I pick at a sandwich and debating how I was going to get out of going, the phone rings. I pick it up,

"Hello?"

"Chlo, I'm stuck here in Metropolis and won't be home until tomorrow night. We have meetings all today and tomorrow. Can you get a ride with Clark?"

I groan. "Daaad… Do I still have to go?" Sure, I feel bad for Whitney but I don't think my presence would make him feel better…

He sighs on the other end. "Chloe, it's respectful. Mr. Fordman was a good friend to us when we first moved here. I need you to go. And maybe this will help you deal with your mother's passing. The therapist-"

I cut him off. "Fine. I'll go." I hang up, trying not to be angry. I don't care what the therapist said. They're all a bunch of phonies anyway… Trudging up to my room, I phone Clark as I sift through my stuff to find a nice outfit to wear.

"Hello?" He sounds happier than usual. I wonder what's up.

"Hey Clark."

"Hey Chloe, what's up?"

"I was wondering if you could-" I hear giggling. Female giggling. "Clark?"

"Uh, yeah?" He sounds preoccupied.

"I was wondering if you could give me a ride to the funeral," I say quickly, eyes narrowed.

"Sure. I'll pick you up around four-thirty."

"Thanks Clark."

"Sure, Chloe. See you then." This time I'm sure of it. Female giggles in the background. Sounding a lot like Lana…

"Bye, Clark."

"Bye Chloe."

I hang up, feeling dread sink in.

I'm standing watching the casket being lowered into the cold wet ground. I'm almost crying and I don't know why. I didn't know him, I only saw the man once or twice in my life, and it's not as if Whitney and I are best friends.

Whitney. He's standing with his mother and Lana, his face stony and full of pain. For the first time I don't see any arrogance or cockiness in his face. Only sadness and a tremendous weight. Every shield had been striped away.

Clark and Lana are giving each other looks across the grave and I can't stand it. It makes me want to cry even more. It's a stupid trivial thing to think about when you're standing at a funeral but I couldn't help it. How could they be so horrible? Whitney's father has just died… and they're making googly eyes at each other?

The coffin has reached the bottom, the priest was done reading, and he closes his book and starts for the church. People start leaving but I can't move. Just staring into that grave brings back the memory of my own mother's funeral. It wasn't cold or rainy on the day of her funeral, rather sunny and happy. This seems more fitting though. I wish it had rained. When she'd been laid to rest, we'd just stood there, watching it being lowered and thinking I'd never see her face again, never smell the smell of her hair again, never feel her arms around me when I've had a bad day.

Someone puts their hand on my shoulder. "Chloe?"

I turn. "Cla-" But it's not him. It's Whitney Fordman with a flat look on his face. I quickly wipe my face free of tears. It doesn't matter, he wouldn't notice. 

"Do you need a ride home?" he asks.

I sniffle and look around the empty graveyard. Everyone is going home but us two. "Yeah, I guess I do… Clark was supposed to but…" I gestured to the emptiness around us helplessly. "I guess he left."

"Yeah, he drove Lana home," he replied stonily.

I flinched and he grimaced.

"We're quite the pair," he said finally.

I nodded, the tears welling up again so I looked down at my shoes. They're muddy.

He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

That makes my head shoot up. "Why?"

"Because of Clark… and Lana. She's really driven. When she wants something, she gets it."

"I know." But the tears won't stop and I feel like world's biggest idiot.

"Hey, it's okay." I give him a withering look and he shrugs. "First thing that popped into my head. Sorry." He took my arm at the elbow. "I'll give you a ride home…"

I follow him to his truck and climb in as he holds the door open for me. I watch as he shuts the door and walks around to climb into the driver's seat.

He starts the engine and a rock station blares out. He clicks it off quickly and the cab is filled with an awkward silence as we start down the road. Finally, I can't take it anymore and reach out, turning it back on.

He shoots me a startled look then his eyes go quickly back to the road.

We continue on in silence.

The radio, the regular swish-swish of the windshield wipers, the warmth in the cab, and just Whitney and I, alone together sends me off into fantasies of he and I actually being a couple, which would never happen… It was stupid, I know. Because we would never, could never. We hate each other. Well, he hates me at least. After all those articles who wouldn't…

And yet.

And yet we were sitting together, alone in his truck outside my house.

I didn't even realize that we'd pulled up. And how did he know where I lived anyway?

"You're here," he says in the same flat tone of voice.

I look over. He's sitting, hands relaxed on the wheel, staring sightlessly out into the rain.

I want to hug him. I want to take him home and take care of him. "You want to come in for coffee or something?" I ask, shocked as the words come out.

He shrugs. "Sure. Whatever."