Chapter Four

Chloe, Clark and Pete shared just one class before lunch, World History IB. The tardy bell for third period rang out and Clark was in his seat in the back of the class and looked at the chair Chloe sat in, four seats away, one row over. Her locker was just down the hallway,and she was usually the first of the three in the class. For a few seconds he was worried about her, but realized she could be still be talking to Kwan.

"Hey, bro," Pete said. He slid into his chair next to Clark; Chloe lost the coin flip battle to sit there (at first it was two out of three flips, but Chloe fought for more flips until she gave in to her bad luck at best of nine; she still accused Pete of cheating). He saw Clark's expression and knew who was on his mind. "She's probably finishing her closing arguments."

"Yeah, I know...," Clark said with a sheepish smile. Five minutes later, Clark tuned his ears to the hallway instead of to the teacher. He heard the stomps. He felt better. "She'll be here in twelve seconds. Late," he whispered to Pete.

Pete just shook his head.

Twelve seconds later, Chloe knocked on the locked door and smiled sweetly at the teacher, Mister Watson, when he cast his steely eyes on the glass pane. He was a stickler for rules. He liked Chloe; she was an "A" student but he shook his head. Chloe pressed the hall pass on the glass.

Mr. Watson rose from his leather chair and opened the door. "Always have a pass for the halls don't you, Miss Sullivan?" He said. She nodded. He took the pass and waved Chloe in. "Please take your seat. You're starting to interrupt the learning process."

Chloe hunched her shoulders and walked down the aisle. She saw Pete chuckle and she stuck her tongue out at him when she walked to her seat. She saw that Clark was smiling too and stuck her tongue out farther at him. She sat in her desk next to Lana Lang, who gave her a little wave. Mr. Watson droned on about the upcoming test and Chloe quickly scribbled a note, folded it a few times, waited until the teacher turned his back on the class and wrote on the dry erase board on the wall.

"Psst...Lana," she whispered and Lana looked over and smiled. "Pass this back to Clark."

Lana nodded, took the note and slipped it behind her to her friend, Felice Chandler, who took over Lana's spot as the Head Cheerleader when Lana quit the team. Felice looked at the name on the note (To Clark), looked at Chloe, thought 'Geeky Lovers', and passed the note to the usually dieting Jodi Melville. Jodi popped a Dexatrim pill in her mouth, built up salivia to swallow it, smiled at Pete who had just watched what she did, and she passed the note to Clark. Chloe looked back and smiled at Clark, who gave her one of his own. Clark opened the note, and began to read it. Mr. Watson turned around and spotted Clark.

"Have something to share with the class, Mr. Kent?" The teacher asked and quickly walked down the aisle, his steely eyes on the note. Clark froze. There were some "ooo's" said by some of the class; Mr. Watson was a hardcase. "Give it to me. I will read to the class what you thought was more important than Poland's military might in the opening stages of World War Two." Mr. Watson held out his palm and Clark laid it into his palm.

Chloe was chagrined that Clark was busted, but the note written in her quick short-hand just referred to going to the Torch after class, getting info on Beppo, getting out of school early, doing the story on Beppo over the weekend and something about their theories. Nothing incriminating. She looked back at Clark and wondered why he was sinking into his chair. She thought if Clark was freaking out, she should worry. The teacher walked to the front of the class, laid the note on the podium, and opened it.

"Ahem," Mr. Watson said, drawing the attention of the class. He looked at the note and read. "Kent:...," the teacher began and looked back over to Clark and gave him a smarmy smile. "Meet me in the torch after class, Kwan gave us extra free period, so lets use it...I'm so excited...," and this time Mr. Watson looked at Chloe. She realized just how...naughty that sounded and she sank into her chair.

The teacher shook his head and read, "So lets get info on your idea and mine, go over it throughly, go and do it, and then keep at it over weekend, until both satisfied."

Mr. Watson took out a hankerchief and wiped his brow. "Your idea was pretty mindblowing! I thought I was the one with freak-y ideas...c-ya soon, Chloe." The teacher rubbed his temples and the class erupted in whoops and whistles.

In unison, Chloe Sullivan and Clark Kent died of embarassment at exactly 10:36 AM, Thursday, in their History 1B class at Smallville High School, Smallville Kansas. There was no autopsy.

"I wish I could disappear," Chloe groaned and laid her forehead on her desk.

"I wish I could help," Alicia Baker said, turning in her seat in front of Chloe, looking down at Chloe's hair. "I really do."

"Maybe me and Whitney can get some time in Torch," Lana said with an impish grin to Chloe. "I thought you two just worked on stories. I didn't know the real reason you two always stayed after school."

Chloe almost said, "I wish," but just rubbed her cheek along the desk when she looked back at Clark.

"Nice," the guy that sat next to Clark said and patted Clark's shoulder. Some girl said "Hook it up" loudly and the class started clapping and chanting out Chloe's and Clark's name. Clark caught Chloe's mortified look. He matched it. She winced when he let his head drop to the desk and smacked it with a loud thunk. Pete was laughing hard.

Mr. Watson lost all semblance of decorum in his classroom, because of a note between two of his best students. After he calmed everyone down, he simply passed the history study guide copies to the students in the front of the rows, said the guide was due the next day, and work on it silently in class. He didn't write up detention slips to Chloe nor Clark; he felt they learned the roughest way not to pass notes in his class. He sat behind his desk, wished it was summertime, not fall, wished he was on a beach, not in Smallvile, and wished the plastic pitcher on the desktop was contained margarita, not water.