Monday morning began its day as any other. After getting ready, Clark had stood outside and waited for the bus to arrive, now feeling more anxious than he did last night. Sooner or later, the bus would come, and he would have to face Lana, who he had no idea would react to him if she ever saw him again. A dark cloud had loomed over him as the negative fantasies echoed in his mind. He had wondered if what happened on Friday afternoon would've blown his chances of hanging out with them or anyone again.
Before he could think too much, he heard the sound of gravel being crushed under big rubber tires. He looked up but he didn't see a bus coming. Nothing but an empty peaceful field under another pleasant bright Monday morning that had only begun. No car had been approaching and the Kents' truck had not moved or started for anything. His breathing accelerated as the sound kept irritating him without showing itself. It was fairly loud now as if the bus had been right in front of him. He exhaled sharply trying to find its location. Seconds of excruciating hysteria forced him to begin covering his own ears, wondering where the heck was the bus.
The sound had not wavered, but the bus had finally made itself within Clark's view. It was still as loud as it made its way over to his direction. Was there something wrong with the tire or engine? Surely, they wouldn't let a faulty bus take kids to school, would they? A few seconds had passed, and the bus had stopped in front of him before opening its doors. Clark hopped onboard and faced the inevitable.
To his surprise, he hadn't seen any looks of resentment from the other kids. They all had acted as if it was a Monday morning on a school bus enthusiastic for the upcoming summer. So far, so good—that is until the familiar red-haired girl had been spotted.
Lana had been sitting near the back. Clark felt a shiver run through him. Before he could shift himself to try and avoid her sight, she caught him. She smiled at him.
A smile. That's a good sign.
Feeling the awkwardness take control, Clark had approached her. Her expression told him that all had been well, but he didn't quite have the courage to sit next to her.
Clark asked as he sat at an empty seat across from her. He decided to speak first to hide the tension. "Hey, uh, how's Pete?"
"He's doing fine," Lana said simply, her voice having no indication of fear.
Clark's eyes beamed. "Really?"
"Well . . .," she then chuckled to herself. Knowing Pete, she was relieved. "He was actually impressed. He bragged about you and how you were like the 'Fridge'."
Clark squinted. "The what?"
"Never mind," she shook her head, still smiling. "He's doing fine. He's still coming to school."
"He is?" Clark asked nervously, trying to hide the insinuation. "Well, that's good," he recovered.
"Yeah." She then looked at him. "You alright?"
"Yeah!" Clark answered as best as he could with honesty. "Great."
Great? That's how any liar would finish a sentence!
"So," Clark tried to retract but knew it was failing. "How are you?"
"I'm good," she replied simply.
Clark decided to say nothing else and nodded enthusiastically. Nothing else was much said afterward. He refused to look upward at any other classmate. He could sense the stares and gossip all around him. It was going to be a long day . . .
Kids had poured out of the bus with only Lana and Clark following from the rear portion of the formation. Lana stepped ahead of him and continued after him presumably to be with her friends. That had only made Clark frown. He was hoping that Lana would be as close to him as before it only seemed like she was distancing herself from him. Shaking that thought out of his head, he had proceeded through the doors of the school.
The hallways were scrambling with people as everyone was trying to reach their designated first class, despite that the bell hadn't even run yet. Clark had walked casually by himself as he passed by other students who were busy with their locker, hurrying to their destination or boys standing to talk to girls, who were either interested or grimaced by their conversations.
As he turned a hallway, he swallowed. Pete Ross was centered around many other students. Clark winced as he noticed the cast on Pete's arm. He shifted himself to the opposite side of the hallway, hoping that he wouldn't be seen, but Clark had apparently become famous.
"Hey, Kent!" Pete called as his face lit up, waving his free hand. "Get over here!"
Clark's face flushed as he froze in place. Pete exchanged a few words with his other friends, who then looked at Clark and seemed to be wowing in amazement.
Clark obeyed and kept his head down as he had approached.
"Hey, Pete," Clark uttered trying to sound friendly. "How's your arm?"
"It's fine, man," he answered. Clark was surprised as Pete answered in excitement than resentment. Pete turned his head towards everyone else, shouting giddily, "Man, you shoulda seen it! Tried to tackle him and he broke my arm! It was awesome!"
Clark then wore a face that had wondered if Pete had just listened to what he just said.
"It's alright, Kent," Pete boasted, "everyone's been all over me. Wanna sign my cast?"
Clark looked at the white gauze around Pete's arm. Already it has several signatures in different colors that were either sincere or obscene. He grimaced as he felt that he didn't deserve to write anything on something that he had been responsible for. Then again, Pete had asked as a friendly gesture. And Clark was more well-known now.
Clark's vision turned wavy and became a bright shade of blue. He blinked rapidly, thinking that he must've had something in his eye. The wavy sight had only receded, but it had picked up again. This time, the shade of blue was now taking over. He jerked his head and rubbed his eyes hoping that that would quell it, but everything was the same. His eyes widened and his lips parted as what he was witnessing. He looked at Pete's cast. Only, he no longer saw the white gauze and instead saw a fractured skeletal bone. It was impossible, but he was looking at Pete's skeletal arm. Clark's eyes then darted at Pete's face and let out a gasp.
He wasn't looking at Pete's face. What took its place was a human skull. Pete's face was barely visible, but it gradually faded in and out.
The skull spoke, "Kent, you alright?"
Clark's eyes shot everywhere, and he had nearly screamed.
He had been surrounded by skeletons, all who were looking at him. They all had blue auras surrounding them and the wavy filter in Clark's eyesight had given him a frightening visual.
Clark blinked rapidly. Something had to have been in his eye. This was way too bizarre to be real. The skeletons then faded away, only to make way for the transparent view of body muscles being exposed. His stomach churned, looking at their eye sockets that had fully exposed wide eyes that peeked behind the view of the skeletons that wanted to appear again.
This is a dream. He has to be in a dream. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently to ignite a headache and started backing away from where Pete had been standing.
"Kent?" Pete's skull spoke again. "Hey, Kent. You okay?"
Clark's answer had only been shaky breaths with a white face of horror.
He then turned around and started running, not caring about what the others were thinking. Opening his eyes to know his path, his eyes darted around him. All around him was the same shade of pale blue and he saw more skeletons, all with exposed muscles that faded in and out of existence at no rhythmic pace. The lack of eyelids produced dark empty sockets with stretched out jaws leered at him with no emotion.
Fear had given him more speed as found an empty corner to turn to. After turning an unoccupied corner, Clark backed himself against the wall that faced away from any crowd. His knees buckled as his upper body slid down the wall until he sat on the cold tiled floor with his face buried in his hands, trying to process what just happened. He rocked back and forth, hoping that what he had been seeing would be extinguished. This was a dream. He had to be dreaming.
He opened his eyes and the wavy blue lighted vision had not changed. It was still fading in and out as he saw more than just school walls; he was seeing classrooms as if there were no walls. All around him, he saw that the school was completely visible to him. Every room was noticeable, and he even saw people walking through as if nothing was wrong. Even worse, they were fading into skeletons. Angrily, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and bared his teeth, straining. He had to get rid of it somehow. He opened his eyes.
Clark's eyesight was no longer blue.
The walls were solid and no skeletons. Everything was as should be. Though there was another disgusting oddity—everything had been red as if looking through a scarlet see-through glass. This new quandary widened his eyes in an unpleasant surprise. As he paused at this new peculiarity, his view had been focusing on a wooden door that led to a classroom. His eyes felt extremely warm. It wasn't a scalding sensation, but he could feel a minor heat rising from within his sockets.
Before Clark could explore everything else with this red image, a flame had appeared into existence and latched itself onto the wooden door before him.
Clark cried out as he saw the door being smothered by the embers that had appeared out of nowhere. Panic had punched the air through his stomach, and he shouted, "fire! Fire!"
Screams had soon followed along with faster paced sounds of sneakers smacking the floor. Clark soon joined them as he got himself off his feet and immediately bolted back to the hallway, where he met students and teachers running in several directions. Soon enough, the shrill screeching of the fire alarm reverberated through the hallways, giving Clark a tingling feeling in his eardrums. Clark sprinted and joined the hysterical sea of students running outside the building. Teachers cried out over the screams for everyone to stay calm and leave the building in an orderly fashion as they all did during fire drills.
Several crossing guards had been helping students exit the building as murky smoke started pouring from the building. In the back of Clark's state of absolute fear, he was thankful that it happened before the school hours had begun and a handful of students hadn't arrived yet. He saw that already several students who had just arrived backed away as a yellow light within the school had brightened from where the fires had sparked.
Firetruck sirens blared, making Clark jump. Soon enough, several firemen had dispersed from the red truck and shouted instructions for people to stay away from the building. In all his years, Clark thought and hoped that he would never have to see the day when there would've been a real fire at the school. All those school drills would never prepare for a sight like this.
The agonizing memories in his head had drained his lungs, and he couldn't stop reliving the moment right before the fire had been triggered. His mind brought back the images of the skeletons he saw in the hallway before. It then brought him back to the moment of everything in his eyesight being in red light before the fire was triggered. Nothing about it had made sense. Nothing in the past several days made sense. He had broken someone's arm without even trying and wasn't even that muscular compared to the much more athletic students.
The entire world started losing focus around Clark as he turned around him. He knew within himself that this was all his fault. His chest turned death cold as his thoughts progressed to what his parents would say about all this.
A low moan had nearly escaped his lips as he saw a familiar truck pull up. It was fast enough that would excel a proper speed limit before it jolted to a stop right in front of him in the parking lot.
Martha opened the passenger door. "Clark? Honey, are you okay?" Her tone sounded concerned, albeit a hint of panic.
Clark saw the driver as his father, whose lips were parted in apprehension. He didn't dare to move towards the truck now.
"It's alright, sweetie," Martha said as she got out of the car. "Clark, honey, come here."
Clark shook his head, searching for words to explain what was happening.
Jonathan leaned his head forward, so his head was more in clear view for Clark. "Come on," he reiterated his wife. "Let's go home."
Clark protested. "But I didn't do anythi—"
"Let's go, Clark," Jonathan insisted. "We're going home."
Defeated, Clark hung his head and obeyed. Martha exited the truck, allowing Clark to squeeze in between her and Jonathan. Martha then placed a hand on Clark's shoulder as he continued hanging his head, unwilling to look upward at anything else. He kept wondering if his parents would then turn into the same kind of skeletons he saw earlier or worse—another fire that he would no doubt cause. Soon enough, the truck had left the school grounds and headed the way home.
Unable to stand the tension between his family, Clark broke the silence.
"Guys," he said. "I did it, okay? It was me. But I swear I didn't mean to. I just looked at something and the fire happened!"
"We know," Martha said softly next to him.
"Something's happening to me," Clark continued as if he didn't hear anything else. "Why is this happening to me?" he raised his voice. "Something is seriously wrong with me! I saw other peoples' skeletons! I set a fire without even moving! I don't know how I did it! What if I do that to you guys?"
Martha shushed and placed an arm around him. She then shot a look of worry to her husband, who reciprocated her expression. Jonathan nodded at her. There would be no use in hiding this any longer.
"I'm scared," Clark spoke this time calmer.
Jonathan turned his eyes back on the road and swallowed, fighting back his emotions so he could speak lucidly. "Clark," he spoke. His voice wasn't raised. Nor did it sound coaxing. "There's . . . there is something you need to see at home." He sighed and swallowed yet again. "Something we probably should've shown you long ago."
Clark's forehead wrinkled. "What?"
Jonathan didn't answer.
"What is it?" Clark pressed, now looking at Martha.
"Just wait, honey," Martha assured. "We're almost home."
Clark couldn't wait on something like that. He wanted to try asking again until he looked at his parents who were stone-faced serious. He gave up and returned to his defeated head hanging stance. Something that should've been shown long ago only churned Clark's stomach for something maybe even worse than what he had already experienced in the past several days.
What he had just heard didn't bring him much comfort on the rest of the ride home.
When the Kents arrived back on the farm, Jonathan didn't park at the usual spot which was a few meters away from the side of the house. Clark felt a knot in his stomach as Jonathan steered the truck a couple of meters away from the barn instead. Jonathan was first to get out while Martha exited the truck as well.
Clark detected a curious expression from his parents. They didn't look angry, at least. Though, they wore the same face as he remembered when Jonathan drove them home on Friday afternoon. That same mysterious look of gloom. As she got her feet on the grassy floor, Martha turned around and her eyes had a hard lock on Clark's.
"Follow us," she said with a hint of despondency.
Clark didn't hesitate and obeyed. From what he could tell, they were at least going to tell him something, though it wouldn't have killed them to say anything right now.
He followed Martha as Jonathan was waiting for them patiently until they caught up with him at the large door to the barn.
Jonathan then pressed the barn door open and the three entered. Martha then walked ahead of Clark, who remained just about a meter ahead of the door, feeling the anticipation painfully freeze the inside of his chest.
"So, what is it?" he said.
No answer was uttered as Jonathan and Martha proceeded to the center of the room while Clark kept an anticipated and unshakable gaze at his parents. He had never seen them look so worried in his life. Clark received an unnatural numbness that swept over him.
Jonathan then kicked away some of the hay straws right at the center, until a metal lock emerged from the golden straw ground. He then knelt and with both hands, unlatched the lock and pulled on it. A large wooden trapdoor revealed itself, rising from the haw straws. As the trapdoor flipped over to its fully opened position, Jonathan looked back at Clark and wore a face of deep regret.
"Come here," he spoke gently, gesturing a commanding hand.
Clark swallowed, preparing himself before he complied. As he approached his father, he looked at Martha, who stood looking melancholy. Whatever they wanted to show him was becoming more and more unsettling.
Clark then shifted his eyesight into the inside of the trapdoor that led into the earth. Thankfully, the sun had been bright enough to shine light through the spaces of the wooden boards of the barn to reveal what was inside. As Clark got to where Jonathan was, he saw it.
From what he was seeing, there was a large metallic object that had been placed inside. It had a massive oval shape and there were strange looking symbols inscribed on the shiny surface. The metal had slight hints of rust, giving an impression that this thing must've been here for years. He was surprised to see that such a large object was able to fit in through the door, though the amount of space in the cellar was perfect for it.
Clark's eyes widened in amazement. "Whoa," he whispered. He turned his head to Jonathan. "What is it?"
Jonathan inhaled through his nose. "From what we could tell, it was a rocket."
"Well," Clark stuttered still amazed, "yeah, obviously. But where it'd come from? Are you guys, like, scientists or something? Wait, did you guys experiment on me or something?"
"No," Martha exhaled. If only. . .
"You see," Jonathan spoke as if he didn't hear Clark's suggestion. "Clark . . . years ago, this rocket came out of the sky one night. And it landed right here in our own front yard. We had no idea where it came from."
Martha grimaced and hung her head, blinking back upcoming tears.
Jonathan took a long and deep breath. "We found you in it."
Clark's lips parted as he felt like his heart had stopped beating. What he had just heard couldn't have been right. He squeezed his eyebrows together, shaking his head. "You found me in it?"
"Every night," Martha said, making Clark face her, "we had prayed for a child." She wiped her nose with her arm. "And one night, our prayers were answered," she said as the corners of her mouth stretched, holding back the emotion.
Clark squeezed his eyebrows together again and looked back at the rocket. Found him in this? What was that supposed to mean? What are they talking about?
"But I am your child, aren't I?" Clark said, trailing the question.
He leaned forward and carefully eyed the rocket that he was "found in". Upon closer inspection, the symbols didn't look like any other language to his knowledge. It didn't look like hieroglyphs he recognized from his history classes he did well in.
It was still intriguing. The symbols that covered the sides were placed in an aesthetic layout. They intersected in several positions and the engravings were immaculate with clean and precise edges. The rocket still had a clean metal coat around it and there was no sign of rust or any sign of decay. If the rocket was held down in there for so long, then the material for it must be really durable.
Curious, he reached his hand out and placed a flat palm on the metallic surface of the rocket. It was a cooling sensation.
The rocket glowed.
A low humming was heard, and the rocket radiated a blue and white soothing aura.
Clark let out a cry of surprise as Martha, on instinct, ran at her son hoping to grab him away from the rocket. Jonathan stepped backward.
A metallic voice had spoken. It sounded human, but the words didn't sound like anything the Kents had ever heard of. Their eyes widened as they watched the rocket glow and the voice continued. What had caught them by surprise is that the voice did say the word, "Earth", but the kind of language they were hearing didn't sound exactly European, or Chinese, or maybe Russian—
"Translation completed," the voice suddenly spoke that made the Kents blink.
"Message will now commence for Kal-El," the voice said.
"Jonathan, what's happening?" Martha exclaimed.
In a split second, the Kents had noticed that a tiny slot on the side of the rocket opened. They had little to no time to see that a tiny silver box had been within the slot before a snapping hiss sound screeched. Above the silver box, a light shot up and a projection of two human-looking figures had emerged into existence.
Their projection created a dark blue aura in the barn. There was a man and a woman. Both of them were wearing strange looking white robes that stretched down to just above their ankles. Both of their robes had a large diamond pentagon on their chests. Inside the pentagons was a very peculiar "S" shape. Their expressions had dignified and modest faces that insinuated loyalty as if they were ancient sculptures.
The Kents turned from dreadful surprise to curious scrutinization as they saw them.
"Greetings, my son," the man said spoke in a deep and incisive voice that almost made the Kents flinch. "I am Jor-El. I am your father." The man then turned to the woman, who hadn't changed her face. "This is Lara Lor-Van. This is your mother."
Clark's face had deadened into a frigid whiteness as he processed what he was hearing. He looked at Jonathan and Martha, who both had expressions of defeat as the image of the man before them was speaking the truth.
"Mom?" Clark uttered as he looked at Martha. Her expression was deeply saddened while horrified to see this strange looking object was finally answering her questions that she had after all these years.
The man had continued as if there was no one there and without emotion. "By the time you hear this, Kal, we are inevitably no longer by your side. Let it be known that our deaths were not in vain as your survival was our priority. You were not born on this planet that has been established as 'Earth'. You were born in a faraway world called Krypton—a world of great scientific achievements and moral society. Unfortunately, it has also become a world of great tragedy. Our fates were sealed because of my failure. And for that, I am deeply sorry that you had to find out this way, Kal. I couldn't save the world that we promised you, but we could save you. The contents within this emergency shuttle you arrived in contains everything I can give you from the House of El. Rest assured, Kal, you were not sent here without reason. Before our planet's destruction, the planet, Earth, was classified as inhabitable for Kryptonians. You will be protected with abilities that Earth's environment will provide for you. The Earth's sun is a G-type Star, which will naturally modify and enhance Kryptonian body cells. You will have the strength beyond that of any normal man. You will be free to live among humans, but you mustn't forget that while you look like them, you are not one of them . . ."
The rest of the man's words had been drowned by a buzzing noise that rang through Clarks' ears. He felt his lungs pumping erratically. He breathed fast gasps and his eyes darted everywhere. His head swiveled, unwilling to accept anything he was being told.
This was ridiculous. This entire day is nothing but an elaborate nightmare. He would wake up and he'd be in bed, and the day would reset to something more logical. His name isn't "Kal". It's Clark Kent. He's a boy from Kansas who goes to a small town junior high school. Not some. . . some. . . freak.
He looked at his parents who just looked back at him with watery eyes. The more he looked into their eyes, the more he realized that that's not something he would find fake in his own mind.
"No," Clark's voice quivered. "No. No. No." His mantra went on and he kept shaking his head as he felt a lump in his throat rising.
"Oh, God," Martha choked as she approached him slowly. "Sweetie."
Clark's face began to burn. His eyes and cheeks reddened, feeling the negative passion take control of him. "Why'd you show me that?"
Martha flinched in horror.
He gritted his teeth as his eyes leaked. "This isn't true! It's not true!
Squeezing his eyes shut, Clark dashed away from the rocket and headed out of the barn. Jonathan called out to him and Martha's emotions took her balance, bending her over.
Clark's mind had been tugged in more directions than he could ever think of. He ran out into the front yard, where he was supposedly "found" and not in a hospital as he had been told for the past twelve years. He changed his direction to separate himself from the house that he grew up in and started towards the cornfield.
As he made his way into the tall green maze, he no longer knew his direction. As long as he didn't face anything he already knew and had been lied about it didn't matter. Nothing else did.
Clark only made it a few yards before his foot got caught in a pile of fallen corn husks, disrupting his fleeing. With no focus on his balance and the blurring images of cornstalks whizzing by, Clark fell face down onto the dirt ground. As his front made a harsh contact with the ground, stress had drained him, and he didn't even try getting back up. His facedown position had muffled the angry cries as Jonathan approached him.
"Clark!" he shouted in relief that he hadn't gone far away and worried that he might be hurt.
Noticing his son's condition, he slowed himself down and moved through the thick cornstalks. As he got to where his son was lying, he knelt beside him and placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. Jonathan desperately searched in his mind for the right thing to say. He and Martha always had a way of explaining things to the boy. Only this time, the truth was far more brutally incontrovertible than anything they had encountered.
Swallowing, Jonathan said, "I'm so sorry."
Clark lifted his head steadily and looked at the man who had pretended to be his father. "W . . .," he breathed. "why did you show me that?"
Before Jonathan could answer, Clark spoke again, "I don't want to be anyone else," he said as he broke into another sob. He buried his head into Jonathan's stomach and wrapped his arms around him. Jonathan returned the favor and embraced him tightly, feeling Clark's emotions channel through him.
"I wanted to show you because . . .," Jonathan answered as he felt the tears forming, "you were so scared. To help you understand why you're different from the other kids."
"I don't want to be different!" Clark cried through clenched teeth. "I'm not a freak! I want to be just like them! I want to be your son!"
Jonathan held Clark's head onto his shoulder as tightly as he could. "Oh, Clark," he sobbed. "You are my son."
Martha made her way to just outside the cornfield, but she could make out her family's location. She saw Jonathan kneeling on one knee, holding onto the distraught child they had promised to take in. Exhaling in sadness, she walked over to them and knelt for Clark, adjacent from where Jonathan was. She joined her family's embrace as Clark continued sniffling.
". . . great many tragedies had befallen on your home planet before our final fate," the blue lighted Jor-El said as the Kents continued listening in the barn. Clark blinked rapidly to ease the burn in his red eyes. "Our fair capital city, Kandor, was a grand metropolis, courtesy of the many guilds from where you are from as well as your ancestors from the House of El," he gestured at the "S" shape on his chest. "My biggest regret is that you never got to see it."
Still depressed, Clark only closed his eyes in a silent sigh. For every passing minute this message was playing, the more questions that were conjured from these newfound discoveries.
"Though, I am unable to see you today, my son, I do have one request—live among them, Kal-El. There, discover where your enhanced Kryptonian body will be needed most. While you may hold Earth's customs, I must ask you to always hold the pride of your heritage in your heart. We've strived for thousands of generations for the ideals that have shaped our world in the name of truth and justice. I must ask you to do the same. No matter where you go, Kal-El, you will always carry our strength in you. Never forget that. Even in death, we love you, son."
Two seconds later, the snap-hiss sound the silver box made earlier happened again, and the figures of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van vanished back into the box.
Clark's face had a mixture of awe and melancholy. The feeling of Martha's hand on his shoulder brought him only a sliver of warmth.
"Have you guys seen this before?" he asked.
"No," Jonathan answered. "We only found you in the rocket. We didn't know anything else until now."
Clark took another deep breath as Martha continued rubbing her hand on his shoulder. "So," he sniffled, trying to sound confident, "I'm, uh . . . an alien, huh?"
"Oh, honey," Martha answered, "You're very special."
"Stop calling me that," Clark said. "I'm . . .," Clark's eyes lowered and searched. He exhaled. "I don't even know."
"Your birth parents sound like they really loved you, Clark" Jonathan said.
"'Clark'", he grimaced at his name. "That's not even my real name. They're calling me Kal-El, and you're calling me Clark."
"You can choose whatever name you want, sweetie," Martha calmed. She lowered herself so her head was next to his. "Honey, you have to understand something: as far as I'm concerned, your birth parents loved you very much. And I think they would've given you a great life. But they sent you here for a reason. They knew that you would be safe here."
"Clark," Jonathan spoke. His tone suggested something gloomy ahead. "From what they said, you have been . . . gifted with things. Things . . . that the other kids can't do."
"Yeah?" Clark replied humbly.
"Which is why," Jonathan continued, "we have to tell you something."
"What?"
Jonathan hesitated. He hated to bring up a memory that Clark wanted to not relive.
"Earlier today . . . when we found out the school was on fire, we had assumed . . . that you did something."
Clark was about to speak in protest.
Jonathan caught him. "I know it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to. It was an accident."
"Yes," Clark pressed.
"That is why I want you to be careful. You see, Clark . . . from what we've seen, you're capable of great things. But you have to know how to control it."
"But I don't know how," Clark said worriedly.
"We'll help you," Martha said.
"And if your birth parents said that you've been 'enhanced'," Jonathan added, "then you have to keep this side of yourself a secret."
"Are you saying I should hide myself for the rest of my life?" Clark asked, wondering if that is what Jonathan was intimating.
"No," Jonathan said quickly before speaking slowly again. "You see, Clark, if not handled carefully, something like today could happen. And I know that was before you knew about yourself. But you know now. And now that you do, you have to figure out what you can do and how you do it. And Clark . . . this is also important."
Jonathan paused before he proceeded.
"People have never known someone like you before. There will be people who might be frightened of you."
"But I don't want that," Clark answered hastily.
"I don't want that either," Jonathan resumed. "And I know this was all too much for you to take in right now. You're still young. But I feel like your birth parents had the idea that you can do great things. Things for other people, not to other people. And one day, Clark, you're gonna have to make a choice."
"What choice?"
"To stand proud for other people," Jonathan answered. "To be the best you can be."
Clark turned his head slowly away in a very pensive manner.
"Well," Clark thought, "guess that eliminates being a football star athlete, huh?" he weakly chuckled.
Seeing Clark's attempt at levity under the circumstances made Jonathan's corners of his mouth stretch.
"You don't have to be an athlete," Martha said simply. "You can be whatever you want to be . . . you know, as long as it doesn't involve anything physical".
"Look, guys," Clark said, "I know you're just trying to make me feel better, but . . ." he sighed, "I don't know what to think about all this. I mean, I just set my school on fire and then I found out that I'm some sort of alien from outer space."
Clark sat himself up, releasing himself of Martha's touch. "It's like my whole life has already been told what it should be."
"It's your choice, Clark," Jonathan said simply. "You don't have to be. You can still be whoever you want to be. But I'm telling you this—if you choose to be someone to stand tall and proud for other people, it's a big responsibility. And that won't be something that can be erased. Right now, you're too young for something like that. But there will come a day, Clark."
"And no matter what," Martha added, "we're going to be there for you."
Clark sighed and looked at his parents—or rather, the parents who told him that he was born in a hospital where Jonathan had to wait for hours before he was delivered while Martha was in labor. They were complete strangers his entire life. Then again, he looked into the same eyes that had always cared for him since he could remember.
"Sounds like you guys had been preparing for something like this for a while," he said in a low tone. "Are you okay with this?"
"Of course, we are," Martha answered sincerely.
Jonathan walked closer to his family. "So, let's begin."