Author's Note...
Well, I guess someone liked this story, so I'm posting again.
Besides, it wastes time that I should be using to study for a test.
I love procrastinating.
The bonfire party is much like the one in Season 1 (I believe it's called COOL), when the guy falls into the lake and freezes people.

"No, I told you! Ten thousand dollars or this information goes to the Planet. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to give me twenty grand," Kaitlyn argued with the editor.

Perry White groaned on the other end. "Look, kid, we run on a tight budget over here. How 'bout five thousand?"

"Nine," she said firmly.

"Seven, kid."

Kaitlyn paused. "Fine."

"This better be good. Okay, we're recording this conversation, blah, blah, blah, sue us, court of law. Talk whenever you're ready."

"Lionel Luthor and Rebecca Bell. Michael Bell's already asleep. Eleven at night and an empty bottle of wine. Sounding good?"

"Sounds just like the rest of our stories."

"The only difference is that this one's real."

Perry ignored the insult. "I'm gonna need more details, kid."

"You'll get your details. Mr. Luthor and Mr. Bell had a meeting that evening. Bell retired at ten." Kaitlyn paused. What had happened next? Oh well, it was the Inquisitor--she could embellish a few details. "The wife invites Luthor to have a nightcap before leaving. The glasses are filled, then refilled, and then again. Soon, the bottle's empty, and it's getting late. By the time I walk in, they're on the table--"

"If you didn't walk in until then, how do I know that everything up until then is true?"

"You're lecturing me about credibility? You'd exaggerate the story anyhow."

"That leaves you to give me the facts, kid," he said firmly.

"Fine, fine. I know that Luthor and Bell had a meeting that night, and that Bell went to bed at ten. When I went to the kitchen a little after ten, Mrs. Bell and Luthor were drinking wine, but didn't look all that drunk. When I went back at eleven thirty, all the wine was gone, and Rebecca was trying to take off his tie."

"That's it?" Perry White sounded unimpressed.

"This can be blown way out of proportion, though. Ya know, photo-shopped pictures and a 'long-term affair only now discovered!' You guys over there seem to be good at that. Hey, while you're at it, make it Bigfoot's fault or something."

"I see your point, kid. This story's got lots of potential. So, do I have your name for the record?"

"Nah, keep it anonymous."

"Right," he mumbled, setting the phone down for a moment. Click. The recorder turned off. "What's your name? We'll need some way to send you that check."

"Kaitlyn Grant. And send the check to 809 Walnut Lane, Smallville, Kansas."

"Right. You'll probably see this on the front cover of Monday's issue." Click. The Inquisitor's editor hung up.

Kaitlyn slapped her pink cell shut and pulled into the driveway of her house. Only six more hours before she could leave for the bonfire.

--

Kaitlyn ran towards the rowdy crowd of classmates. The bonfire was blazing; she could feel some its heat radiating even from far away. Most of everyone who had gathered near it seemed to be drinking.

She spotted John near the middle edge of the crowd, drinking from a can. "Hey, John!" Kaitlyn yelled, trying to weave her way to the boy. A flirtatious grin spread across her face.

He swallowed and searched for the source of the voice. "Yo, Kate! What's happenin'?" he asked, grinning madly. The boy looked even more drunk than Mrs. Bell had been.

Hmm, maybe now isn't the best time to flirt. She followed him closer to the fire as she answered, "Oh, you know, the usual. Talked to some White guy today." Yep, Perry White.

John laughed. "That's racist, girl. And you're white, too. Don't be dissin' on your own race!"

"What does it matter? They're the only race I can diss on." A shiver ran through Kaitlyn, and she suddenly wanted to be as close to the fire as possible. "Oh, wow, it's cold! How can you stand it?" she asked, rubbing her arms with her hands in a feeble attempt to get warm. She pushed through the crowd, correctly assuming that John would trail her like a lost puppy.

"Have ya looked around? Fonbire. It means heat. You stay close to the fire, you stay warm. The beer helps a lot, too. Here, have a can," John slurred, holding his half-empty can out to her. They had stopped just short of the flames.

Kaitlyn turned her back to the heat to warm that side of her. "Sorry, can't," she said, shrugging apologetically. "I gotta drive home tonight. DUI wouldn't look to good on my record."

"Oh, come on, girl! Lighten up! You don't even got no record! Party while yo still young--you can prash carties when yo thirty!" He gave her a playful shove.

"Don't push me." Kaitlyn frowned and shoved him back. Only now did she realize her dangerous proximity to the fire, and how stupid it was to agitate a drunken teenager.

"I'll push you if I wanna," he growled, annoyed that anyone would dare touch him. Kaitlyn was sure that it was the alcohol talking. He wouldn't normally act like this, right? John slammed his palms forcefully against her shoulders.

Kaitlyn's eyes widened as she screamed and stumbled backwards. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion--yet she couldn't move fast enough to catch herself. The flames, only inches away, licked greedily at their new fuel, and a log with a strange green glimmer jutted up towards her at a painful angle. That was going to hurt. People were turning to look at her now. Someone was raising their finger to point, a half-open mouth with a half-uttered scream. Then the heat consumed her, and normal time resumed.

The log punctured her back, inflicting more pain than Kaitlyn had ever known possible. She choked on the smoke and watched as her clothes caught fire, unable to move in time to do something about it. She rolled off the log, and something felt different. She could breathe just fine, and her skin didn't feel blistered. Her clothes were a bit singed, but nothing too terrible.

She gasped and scrambled out of the flames. As she turned to look at the bonfire, Kaitlyn came to a startling conclusion. Her back didn't hurt. She twisted her arm behind her to feel it. Nothing: no wound, no sore spot. She pulled her hand back in front of her face. No blood. And she saw the green log being consumed by the flames.

Green? She had heard about this before. Meteor rocks?! They did strange things to people, gave them super powers, and those people usually went psycho. I'm one of them...I'm flameproof…and I heal fast. Like, immediately.

"Dude, Kate, that was tight!" John exclaimed.

The whole crowd hooted and cheered. "Fire Kate! Fire Kate!" A girl she didn't know pushed her back in, back into the solid, hard logs. The rough bark scraped her back. The pain lasted only a second, but by the time it was gone, so was she.

Kaitlyn fought her way through the bodies to reach her silver Accord and speed home. I need to get away! Oh, gosh, what do my classmates think of me? 'Look out, meteor freak comin' through!' She shuddered. No…this can't be happening to me.

In the rear-view mirror, she saw John stumbling after her. She didn't want to talk to him right now. She didn't want to talk to any of them. Instead, she turned on the ignition and floored the accelerator.

Her headlights showed the scenery along the county road flying by at an illegal speed. But Kaitlyn didn't care. She was tense and angry, and the speed helped soothe her. A bit.

The pot hole came so fast she didn't even notice it. The loud, unhealthy clunk, clunk her car began to make was noticeable, though. She stomped on the brakes, and the car squealed unhappily to a stop.

She swung the door open and ran to inspect the tire. It was flat and looking frighteningly like it might fall off of the car soon. Dang it. She whipped out her pink cell phone and dialed her dad's number.

Brian Grant's SUV was parked next to hers a few minutes later. "The tow truck will be here any minute. How'd this happen, Kate?"

She stared silently at the tire a few seconds. "Speeding," she mumbled.

"Hmm?" he coaxed.

Louder this time. "Speeding, okay? I hit a pot hole."

"Whoa. Pot hole? How fast were you going, Katie?" he asked.

"Dunno, wasn't exactly watching."

Her dad looked at her sternly, blue eyes unusually piercing. "Katie, be careful when you drive. That could have hurt you terribly. Cars are made to take rough bumps and ruts, but you aren't."

"Yeah, Dad, I know." Kaitlyn held back a groan. Parents were always so overprotective. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

Brian smiled. "Good girl," he said, hugging her. "Look, the truck's here. I'll have them tow this poor car to the mechanics, and they'll check it out in the morning. For now, let's go tell Mom you're fine."

Fine? Hardly. She had been turned into a meteor freak. A super-healing, flame-proof meteor freak. "Okay," she said, looking at the ground. Everything seemed far from fine right now.

--

The next day, Kaitlyn was lounging on the couch and watching television in the living room. Well, more like staring in its general direction. Her mind was too preoccupied to pay attention to the blurs moving across the screen.

How would people treat her when she went to school on Monday? Would they make fun of her? Would John apologize, or even remember anything?

And thinking of which, how were the Bells? Could Rebecca remember Friday night, even though it was shrouded by a very heavy veil of alcohol? What would Lionel do to Kaitlyn when he saw the headlines of Metropolis' major tabloid?

She hit her palm on her head. What had she gotten herself into?

She was brought back to reality when Brian walked in the front door, returning from the body shop.

"Bad news, Katie," her father told her. "Mechanic says that the axle's busted up. It won't be ready until tomorrow." He ran a large hand over his short blonde hair.

"But it will be ready before school, right?" Kaitlyn asked, not wanting to have to ride with her mom.

"It'll be done by noon." Kaitlyn groaned, and Brian was quick to add, "But I'll bring it back home once it's ready, alright? You can catch a ride with Brooke. Unless, of course, you want to ride the bus?" His eyes twinkled, as if her riding the bus was funny.

"Ew, no!" she exclaimed. The last time she had ridden on a bus, the boy in the row behind her had puked all over her. Bad memories kept her a healthy distance from the yellow vehicles.

Brian laughed. "Didn't think so." He paused for a second. "That car's really messed up. I know your mom and I promised to pay all the expenses, but if you keep this up, you'll have to start paying. Don't abuse it so much."

"I won't," she said before turning back to face the television screen. "Thanks for helping me with the car, Dad."

"No problem." He sensed an awkward silence coming and shifted his weight. "What are you watching?

Kaitlyn shrugged, not entirely sure herself. She pointed at the screen, which was flashing some advertisement to "BUY NOW!" "Commercials," she answered.

"Good one, Kate." He chuckled and left the room.

--

Kelly Grant insisted on taking her daughter to school. "I don't want to make the Bells go out of their way," she said, sighing. Kelly made up her mind, and when that happened, there was no swaying her.

So instead of singing along to her favorite songs with Brooke, Kaitlyn was stuck listening to her mom hum off-key Oldies along with the radio. She admitted to herself that it was better than an awkward silence, though. The two had never been that close, even if they were the mirror image of each other.

The SUV rolled to a halt in front of the main doors of Smallville High School. "Have a good day at school," Kelly said as Kaitlyn opened the car door. "Tell Brooke that I'm sorry for making her take you home. But you know how the boss is--"

"Don't worry about it, Mom. Brooke is more than happy to drive me," Kaitlyn interrupted. "I'll see you tonight." She closed the door behind her before her mother could say another word.

She felt all eyes on her once she entered the halls. Tatiana skipped up to Kaitlyn when she saw her. "Yo, Kate! Everyone's talking about you! Is it true?"

Kaitlyn groaned to herself. I've only been here thirty seconds and my freak-powers are already mentioned? "Is what true?"

"Did John seriously push you into…?" her question trailed off as her eyes turned to a hot guy approached them.

"Kate, right?" he asked.

"Yup," she answered, walking towards her locker. Tatiana and the guy followed.

"Heard you're heat proof."

Kaitlyn whipped her head around and frowned. He did not just mention that. "And?"

"It's a good thing. You're gonna need it around me--"

She sighed. "Cheesy. Look, man, if you wanna talk to me, you're gonna have to come up with something a little more original. Otherwise, I'll slap you."

Tatiana smirked. The boy, looking very taken aback, walked away. "Nice one, Kate. We could use that bad-girl attitude more often."

"Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up. I'll see you after classes." Kaitlyn stormed off. Wait, what is there to be mad about? Okay, these meteor side effects suck.

--

Kaitlyn managed to avoid John. But by lunchtime, she was sick of hearing everyone talking about her power. Well, that's what she suspected they were talking about. Every time she entered a classroom, its volume level would get a bit quieter, as if they didn't want to her to hear their gossip.

I'm done with this. Forget school, forget lunch. I'm going home. It was almost too cold to eat outside, so most students were in the cafeteria for lunch. A few "loser" groups were at the picnic tables, though. She tried not to make eye contact, but failed. A blonde girl whose name might have been Chloe smiled. Her plaid-wearing best friend smiled a bit, too. She forced a small smile back and walked to her car.

Only one problem: her car wasn't in the parking lot. Great, just wonderful. It's still at the shop. Now I'm stuck here… Unless… I could walk. Well, better than nothing. She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and continued through the parking lot to the street. See ya, losers.

--

Walking down an empty county road when she should have been in class was very unnerving. Kaitlyn kept wondering if someone she knew would drive by and make her go back to school. The occasional car would pass, but none paid attention to her.

When she heard one behind her she thought nothing of it. At least, not until the car pulled alongside her. It was a black…limousine? The passenger window rolled down to reveal a man with shoulder-length, curly gray-brown hair and a beard that was hardly longer than stubble. Lionel Luther, the most hated man in Smallville. Oh crap. "Hello, Miss Grant. Chance meeting you here."

She kept walking. "Maybe if I ignore it, it'll go away," Kaitlyn said loudly.

The limo moved slowly to match her pace. Not creepy at all… she thought sarcastically. Lionel waved a paper in his hand. "I read this, this article in the Inquisitor. I hadn't imagined that the story would be so…absurd."

"It's the Inquisitor, what do you expect?"

"Well, I certainly didn't expect that garden gnomes full of cocaine would be blamed for our, quote, 'long-term affair.'"

Kaitlyn giggled. "Garden gnomes? Oh man, I didn't even suggest that one."

"I have a question for you, Miss Grant. Why, if you were threatened by the richest man in Kansas, did you decide to leak this story?"

"Because even the 'richest man in Kansas' needs to learn that there are consequences for his actions." She shrugged and fought back the uneasiness she was beginning to feel.

"And you didn't think that there would be consequences for yours?"

"Nah, I figured it was worth it. I mean, the worst you can do is kill me. I'm not too scared of that."

"Why kill you? There are much better ways of punishment, none of which are worth the few thousand dollars now lining your pockets." The vehicle stopped moving, and adrenaline began pumping through Kaitlyn's veins.

All of her instincts screamed for her to run. But she couldn't move. It was like a bad dream: scrambling as fast as possible from an unknown menace, but going nowhere.

"Consequences, Ms. Grant," he chided before the tinted window closed. The chauffeur stepped out and grabbed her forcefully. Kaitlyn couldn't even open her mouth to scream. What is wrong with me?! She wanted to kick him in the shin or punch him in the throat, but her body was unresponsive. It no longer wanted to move.

She found herself being pushed into the limo. Under normal circumstances, she would have admired its luxury interior--leather seats, drink cooler, flat screen television.

But all she noticed was the violent pounding of her heart and the look on Luthor's face. And she knew that nothing was worth this.

Fade to black to avoid disturbing rape scene. Here's where you get to use your imaginations, though I don't recommend it…

Flames, anyone?