Ashamed
Part XII
Elizabeth Goode
Pete Ross was sitting on the porch swing in front of the new house he had moved to with his mother when his parents had divorced, reading a novel for his English class at the new school he now attended. When his cell phone rang, he fully intended to ignore it, but when the X-Files theme song played as the ring tone, he sighed. It was Chloe. If there was one thing he missed about Smallville, it was Chloe. The problem was that he knew she would want to talk about Clark. When she had called to tell him what had happened, he had reacted badly, he knew that. It was just that he was tired of talking about Clark Kent. He was tired of thinking about Clark Kent. But, he had to answer the phone. It wasn't in him to deny Chloe anything.
He snapped his phone open and answered, "Hello?"
"Pete?"
"Yeah, Chloe. You called me. Don't sound so surprised."
"Well, the last three times I called you, I was sent straight to, 'Hi, this is Pete. I can't answer my phone right now if the area code is Smallville –'"
"That's not what it says, Chloe. I got your messages, but I was busy. I had two tests to study for, and – "
She interrupted him. "You don't have to make excuses, Pete. I didn't call you to have a fight. I miss you. Lana misses you. Clark misses you. I thought maybe you might want to come home next weekend. My dad says you can stay over, as long as you're on the couch in the den."
"I want to, Chloe. I really would love to, but I'm still settling in here. I can't go back yet. I wanted to make a clean break, you know that."
He could tell from the tone of her voice that she was hurt. "Yeah, I know that's what you told me, but that doesn't make it okay, Pete. You can't just move away and forget your friends, especially when they really need you."
Pete sighed. "You're talking about Clark again, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am talking about Clark. The guy who has been your best friend since before I moved to Smallville. You know, the guy who found his girlfriend hanging from a rope in a barn? I can't figure you out, Pete. You used to have our backs, watch out for us, give a damn when things got scary!"
"Are … things getting scary again?"
"What do you think? I'm seriously down one best friend since you've been gone, and Lana barely looks at anyone except Jason these days. The only friends I have left are my cousin, who is attending college in Metropolis, and Clark, who is so depressed it's like pulling teeth to get him to carry on a conversation! I've given up on him ever turning in another article for the Torch, he's like a robot in the halls at school, and he never socializes anymore. The only way I can get him to act normal is to go out to the farm to hang out with him. And you know about how much I love sitting in that barn with all of that hay. It's itchy."
From the other end of the phone, Pete heard a sniff, and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Great. Chloe was so upset she was crying. Part of him was mad at himself for upsetting her enough to make her cry, but the rest of him was angry with Clark for being the root of the problem to begin with. Clark probably had no idea how worried Chloe was about him. He always had been completely blind when it came to Chloe.
Another sniff confirmed his suspicion. Chloe was crying.
"Hang on a minute. Sorry, Pete. My allergies are – are acting up again."
Of course, she would try to play it off in some way. Chloe wasn't the sort of girl who looked for a masculine shoulder to cry on – that was more like Lana. Not that it was bad to cry, just not in Chloe's character. She had said that Clark was depressed. Just how depressed was he that Chloe was this worried about him? So Alicia Baker had died. Why would it affect Clark so much? Didn't he remember that she had tried to kill Lana Lang? Was Chloe worried that Clark might be suicidal? Too bad he couldn't tell her that he couldn't commit suicide even if he wanted to – his skin was impenetrable. Unless … a horrifying image entered his mind's eye. Kryptonite. Would Clark use the green meteor rock to –
"Chloe?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry what?"
He should have known she wouldn't make this easy. If she had, she wouldn't be the Chloe he remembered.
"I'm sorry I got you upset. I'm sorry I moved away without – without ending things better between all of us. Me and you. Me and Clark."
Her tone brightened considerably. "So you'll come home for the weekend?"
"Yeah, I'll come home for the weekend. Pull out the old sofa bed. Just like old times."
"Pete?"
"Yeah?"
"The old sofa bed exploded with the old house. The new one's a straight up couch. Comfy, though."
"Oh."
He had forgotten about the explosion for awhile. If he thought about it too much, he remembered what it felt like when he had thought she was dead.
"Well, see you next weekend?"
"Next weekend."
After hanging up, Pete stretched out in the porch swing, his book resting on his chest, his place still marked. Next weekend he would face the friend he had abandoned, the friend who had trusted him with the secret he could trust no one else to keep. The friend who needed protection the least of any other, who in fact needed it the most. For the first time since his move, Pete allowed himself to think about what it must have been like for Clark. He imagined himself finding the dead body of a loved one the way Clark had discovered Alicia. He imagined the horror in tandem with the guilt and blame that Clark would have felt toward himself. He imagined Chloe left alone in Smallville to pick up the pieces. Not good. No, this definitely wasn't good.
