Companion piece to "He Doesn't Weep For Me". Clark ponders about Chloe. One-shot.
What She Knows
I see her in the corridor, chatting with another student, her knapsack slung over one shoulder.
She is nodding seriously, in response to what the girl is saying.
She has on her reporter face. I see her scribble quickly in her notebook, and shove the pen down in her pocket. No cap.
She's going to get ink on her jeans again. She always does.
She smiles at the girl, and touches her shoulder briefly in a gesture of thanks. She strides in my direction, and then stops at the sight of me, motionless in the sea of a high school hallway between classes.
How long have I been standing here?
She smiles, a welcoming, all-encompassing kind of smile. It immediately makes me feel less cut off … less of an outsider.
Which is what I really am.
I think of Pete, and feel a swamping wave of betrayal, even though his decision to move to Wichita was not because of me.
Or, at least, not totally because of me.
Now, she is the only thing I have left. The only person besides my parents who still wholeheartedly accepts me. Somewhere along the way, I have lost Lana, the suspicious glances and hurled accusations have strained our friendship, perhaps beyond repair.
And Lex… Lex is still my friend, although he has become entangled in the day-to-day maintenance of a Fortune 500 company. I think of the room in his mansion, the shrine to his fateful accident and his mysterious savior who became his friend, and I wonder if there is more to his blandly asked questions and his slanted probing glances.
I am aware of the irony of refusing to let myself fully trust people, when I am just as much of an enigma as they might be, hiding an agenda, withholding information, fabricating excuses and stories.
I am not any better than they are.
Chloe is beside me now, in the hallway, her smile giving way to a little crinkle between her eyebrows.
Now it is an "are you okay?" smile.
She watches me for a moment. It is a guarded, careful look, as if she knows something that I do not.
It is not the first time she's given me that look.
I always feared discovery from her the most. Lex might have found out from sheer clout and money, buying people to tell him what they knew. And Lana… I could have let something slip, in a moment of heartfelt discussion.
But Chloe… Chloe on sheer investigative ability alone… I fear her simply putting 2 and 2 together one day. She has always been able to make incredible leaps of logic, where her Wall of Weird was concerned.
How long before she jumped to a correct conclusion about me?
I imagine her hurt, the betrayed look on her pretty features. We have been through so much together, I almost hear her saying, why didn't you tell me?
If I think Lana would be angry, I think Chloe would be much worse. Chloe would feel hurt.
And yet, she gazes at me, almost indulgently.
I get the odd feeling that she is protecting me from something. But from what? From whom?
From myself?
"How's it going, Clark?" she asks innocuously. Her eyes sparkle, and her smile is bright.
But there is something…something behind her smile.
There is no way I can ask her about it, without giving myself away. And yet, I find myself longing to confide in someone…missing once again the vital role Pete played, of being someone that I could let my guard completely down around.
I watch her for a moment, and her eyebrows quirk again.
"Are you okay?" she asks in concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I answer absently.
I think of her the night of that spring dance, how pretty she looked dressed in red, how confident she seemed juxtaposed with how insecure she was with how I felt about her.
She had been afraid I was settling for her. Afraid I wanted Lana.
And I ended up abandoning her on the dance floor. For Lana. Like always.
The thoughts of my abbreviated attempts at relationships doomed to failure made me think again of Alicia, and the pain of that stabs at me. I catch my breath involuntarily.
It was shortly after Alicia's death that Chloe began giving me those looks.
I wonder whether or not that is a coincidence.
The bell rings, and students scatter. Chloe and I walk, companionably, to our next class…Economics.
Chloe is chattering about something or other, and groans as we arrive at the classroom.
"God, you would have be superhuman to stay awake in here!" she cracks, heading forher desk. Her face is perfectly bland, but it is an odd comment nonetheless.
It is not the first time she has made some kind of similar statement, like she is deliberately trying to work certain words into the conversation.
I narrow my eyes and study her profile. Maybe I am getting too much like Lex, seeing conspiracies where there are none. She smiles at me, as the teacher begins to speak, and the smile is sunny and beautiful and young.
There is something behind her smile.
I wonder when she will feel able to tell me what it is that she knows.
Finis
