Lana made a hideous face in the mirror. She felt like such a loser. Sure, Aunt Nell kept telling her that she wasn't, that it didn't matter what activities she was in as long as they were what she wanted, but sometimes she wondered if life would be different if she were a girly-girl. Wearing pink. Even being blonde. Like a certain transfer student from Metropolis. Whose mother, in case Chloe hadn't reminded everybody within the last hour, had ditched her and her father.
The problem was that she couldn't help liking Chloe. She was funny and intelligent. While she was nice, she had just enough edge to keep from being sweet. That made it worse, Chloe was as non-bitch that Lana couldn't even really hate her guts. Chloe's guts were probably pink. Or blonde. "Hi, I'm a sweet little duodenum," she twittered at the mirror, not realizing that Chloe had just come into the bathroom.
"Identity crisis, Lana?"
"Just trying to remember all those bits and pieces for bio."
Chloe laughed, "Yeah, I keep getting them mixed up." Her voice was muffled as she closed the stall door, and Lana made one last face, this time, all wide-eyes and tilted head.
***
Clark stared around the hallway. This place was unbelievable! Yeah, definitely, the guy could have afforded something more than a truck, even a truck with all the options. He lifted the visor of one of the suits of armor and nearly jumped back at the sight of a face looking back at him. A green, fuzzy face with round plastic eyes. Oscar the Grouch. In a suit of armor. Whatever.
That wasn't really a sword-fight he was hearing, was it? He opened the door cautiously and watched. Yeah, swordfight. Who did the guy think he was, Zorro?
***
"I'm saying we just try it out. Even if he's still not faster than a camera, we put a mask on him. It's late at night, nobody's going to be around, and if they are, he can take care of them. What's the worst that can happen? He gets caught, he knows that if he tells anybody that we told him to, we tell all about him, and bang, in a lab or at NASA or Roswell or whatever."
"Yeah, yeah, Martha, we can still do that, but I bet there's a lot more to get out of Luthor's precious cue ball son. The guy's worth *billions* and it'd be more likely to be cash. Take anything else to a fence, you get, what, a third of it, and you've got to worry if somebody's going to talk. We figure out the right thing to do with him, we've got it made."
The problem was that she couldn't help liking Chloe. She was funny and intelligent. While she was nice, she had just enough edge to keep from being sweet. That made it worse, Chloe was as non-bitch that Lana couldn't even really hate her guts. Chloe's guts were probably pink. Or blonde. "Hi, I'm a sweet little duodenum," she twittered at the mirror, not realizing that Chloe had just come into the bathroom.
"Identity crisis, Lana?"
"Just trying to remember all those bits and pieces for bio."
Chloe laughed, "Yeah, I keep getting them mixed up." Her voice was muffled as she closed the stall door, and Lana made one last face, this time, all wide-eyes and tilted head.
***
Clark stared around the hallway. This place was unbelievable! Yeah, definitely, the guy could have afforded something more than a truck, even a truck with all the options. He lifted the visor of one of the suits of armor and nearly jumped back at the sight of a face looking back at him. A green, fuzzy face with round plastic eyes. Oscar the Grouch. In a suit of armor. Whatever.
That wasn't really a sword-fight he was hearing, was it? He opened the door cautiously and watched. Yeah, swordfight. Who did the guy think he was, Zorro?
***
"I'm saying we just try it out. Even if he's still not faster than a camera, we put a mask on him. It's late at night, nobody's going to be around, and if they are, he can take care of them. What's the worst that can happen? He gets caught, he knows that if he tells anybody that we told him to, we tell all about him, and bang, in a lab or at NASA or Roswell or whatever."
"Yeah, yeah, Martha, we can still do that, but I bet there's a lot more to get out of Luthor's precious cue ball son. The guy's worth *billions* and it'd be more likely to be cash. Take anything else to a fence, you get, what, a third of it, and you've got to worry if somebody's going to talk. We figure out the right thing to do with him, we've got it made."