Chapter 7 - Effort
If Lex didn't know better, he could have sworn Clark was avoiding him. Maybe he was just overreacting—it wouldn't have been so noticeable if it weren't for the fact that Lex really didn't have any other friends. But Clark didn't stop by the mansion all week. He was busy with football, Lex knew that, but rumors went around that he'd quit shortly after joining the team, and Lex still didn't hear from him.
He toyed with the thought that maybe Jonathan had found out about their friendship, since Clark and Lex had spoken to each other in public at the Beanery, but that didn't sound quite right to him. Jonathan hadn't shown up at the mansion with a rifle or anything. Lex was sure there would at least be another round of threats if and when Clark's father found out about their secret visits.
Of course, these days, there weren't any secret visits for him to find out about. Lex hadn't specified a time for the next time Clark would come visit him, and Clark just hadn't come. Clark didn't have a cell phone, and he couldn't exactly call the Kents' home line, so there wasn't much Lex could do unless he could think of a very, very good excuse to drop by the farm.
It came the next week.
Lex's face was plastered on the front of every newspaper in town. Someone had robbed a bank—someone who looked exactly like Lex. The witnesses to Lex's alibi were rock solid, but so were the witnesses to the crime. And Clark had been at the scene of the robbery. That might be a good enough excuse to go to the farm.
Lex overheard Clark's voice as he walked up to their side door: "It doesn't make any sense. I—I've met Lex, he doesn't seem like the type. Besides, he doesn't need the money."
"Clark, come on." That was Jonathan. "You saw him with your own eyes."
"I don't know what I saw."
Martha's voice: "There must be some kind of reasonable explanation for this. I hope."
Lex chose right then to knock on the wall beside the screen door. All three sets of eyes fell on him, but Jonathan was the first to the door. He spoke through the screen. "Why aren't you in jail?"
"Because I was hosting a reception for 200 fertilizer distributors in Metropolis at the time of the robbery."
Mr. Kent crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
"I wanted to talk to Clark. His name was on the witness list."
Clark joined his father at the door, and opened the screen. "Come in," he said.
"No." Jonathan held up a hand. "You can talk to him from there."
Lex sighed. He asked Clark a few questions about what he'd seen, trying the entire time to gauge from Clark's expression what he was thinking, but he couldn't get a reading. It was as if he and Clark were strangers. Clark didn't even resist when Jonathan told Lex to get lost after asking his questions.
Lex hoped that the visit would remind Clark to stop by the mansion, but a week later, when things had cleared up with the bank robbery, Lex still hadn't heard from Clark.
Maybe Clark didn't want to come by because Lex hadn't been a good enough friend. He was sure he could do better. He just had to figure out how.
His opportunity came when, as predicted, Whitney turned out to be a terrible boyfriend to Lana and backed out of their weekend plans.
Lex put in a good word for Clark with Lana at the Beanery, watched Whitney come in and bail on Lana, gave Lana a look that said I told you so, then left the coffee shop.
He got lucky. Clark was just outside, staring in the window at Lana.
"You know, she's free tomorrow night."
Clark looked up at him.
"Hey, Clark." Lex smiled. "This is the perfect time for you to ask her out."
"She's got a boyfriend, Lex."
A boyfriend who crucified you, Lex wanted to say, but he'd seen how uncomfortable those kinds of comments seemed to make Clark feel, so he settled on, "A high school boyfriend isn't a husband. He's an obstacle. You know, I bet if you ask Lana to go with you to the Radiohead concert in Metropolis tomorrow, she'll say yes."
Clark glanced back in the window at her. "And if she says yes . . ."
Lex pulled out the tickets. He'd been carrying them around for two weeks, along with a few other items that might impress Clark if the opportunity arose. "I'll give you the tickets."
Clark winced. "I can't."
"The hardest thing in the world is telling the girl you love that you like her. I'll raise the bet. You ask her in the next sixty seconds, you get the tickets, and I'll throw in a round-trip limo ride. Starting now." He made a show of looking at his watch.
Clark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."
Lex lowered the tickets. "You're really worried about Whitney."
"It's not Whitney, it's my dad. How would I explain to him how I got the tickets or the limo?"
"Um. Maybe you saved your allowance?"
Clark shook his head. "My family's really struggling financially right now."
"Well, maybe I can help. I was thinking of investing in local—"
"Please stop."
"I—" Lex's voice caught in his throat. "I just thought . . ."
"My dad yelled at me after you left last week."
"For what?"
"For inviting you in."
Lex's stomach turned. "I'm sorry."
"I want to be friends with you, Lex, I just . . . I need to be more careful."
Lex nodded. "I understand."
Clark disappeared into the Beanery, and Lex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. No wonder Clark had been so hesitant. But Lex had learned his lesson.
He just needed to be find a way to give Clark something Jonathan wouldn't find out about.
Three weeks later, word got around that Clark Kent was throwing a house party while his parents were away. It was perfect. Lex hired some people to set off fireworks the night of the party, and he paid hefty bribes to the local police station to make sure they stayed far away. Then he headed over to the party.
The loud explosions brought Clark out of the house, as Lex had hoped. He overheard Clark's friend shouting, "Clark, man, how cool is this?"
"Pete, why didn't you just call the cops?" Clark yelled. "It would have been a lot easier."
"Hey, man, I can't claim credit. It wasn't my idea."
Lex stepped up then. "It was mine. Call it a party gift. I hope you like it."
"It's great, I mean, just—"
"Don't worry about the police, it's covered. I know this kind of party can make or break a reputation, and I wanted to make sure yours was a hit." He grinned.
Clark took his arm and pulled him aside. "We need to talk."
Lex's smile fell, and he swallowed hard.
They stepped out away from the crowds, over to the other side of the barn. "Lex, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but . . . my parents are already going to kill me when they find out about this party. It was just supposed to be a few friends. The fireworks are going to make it worse. I could deal with that, but if they find out you were involved? I'm beyond dead."
"Well, do you need help cleaning up?" Lex realized that that was a stupid comment as soon as he said it. With Clark's speed, cleaning wasn't the issue. "They won't find out. I talked to the cops—"
"Sheriff Ethan is friends with my dad. But that's not the point. I don't want to lie to my parents."
Lex lowered his head. He wasn't sure what to say.
"Look, maybe it's better if we just . . ." Clark grimaced.
"It's okay, Clark." His voice cracked.
"Maybe someday, things will be different, and we can be friends again."
Lex nodded. Having a friend had been nice while it lasted. And having known an alien with superpowers—he'd carry that with him for the rest of his life.
"You'll keep my secrets?" Clark asked.
"Of course." Lex had no intention of betraying a being whose abilities and origins were so far beyond him, even if they weren't friends.
"Thanks." Clark let out his breath. "I guess I better get back to the party."
Lex held out a hand. Clark shook it with a sad smile, and Lex returned to his car.
As Lex drove back to the mansion, a dark little voice inside him prompted him to try a different tactic. If Clark's relationship with his dad were already destroyed beyond repair, Clark wouldn't care about making it worse. Or if his dad were to disappear somehow . . .
Lex pushed the temptation aside with a bit of effort. It was his father's influence. It wasn't him. He didn't do things like that.
He was going to get through this. It would hurt like hell, but he'd get through it, just like he'd gotten through losing Julian, and his mom, and Duncan.
Maybe someday, Clark had said. There was still hope.
Hope would have to be enough.