Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks so much for the positive feedback for the first chapter. I'm a big Smallville fan and I'm super excited to be writing this. Enjoy the second chapter!

Chapter Two: Life on the Farm

Miranda's new bedroom was a major step down from her old room in Metropolis. The walls were bare, painted with a pale yellow paint and there was much less space than there had been in her old room. The only positive that Miranda could see was that there was a window bench that looked out over the more attractive part of the farm.

Nevertheless, Miranda didn't feel at home. Not one bit.

Unpacking had been a strange process for Miranda. She had lived with her Mother and Leslie in the same penthouse apartment for as long as she could remember. She imagined that this is what college freshmen felt like, moving into their dorms for the first time. Generic wallpaper and plain furniture.

At least Mrs. Kent had made the room look somewhat nice with a pretty duvet cover.

After the initially awkward lunch with her mother and the Kents, Miranda had retired to her room to begin unpacking. Clark and Mr. Kent had gone out into the barn to work on their truck and Mrs. Kent informed her that she had some chores to do. This saved Miranda from the obligation of having to socialize.

For the past couple of hours, she'd gotten rid of most of her boxes and managed to put away most of her clothes in her room's dresser. More than half of the clothes had been old leotards and dance warm ups.

Miranda's pointe shoes hadn't made it into her bag, thanks to her mother. Neither had her Swan Lake poster or her various recital rewards. The few things her mother hadn't confiscated included her diary and her first pair of pointe shoe ribbons.

She had tearfully stuffed the diary and the ribbons into the corner of her underwear drawer for safe keeping.

Miranda was currently staring at a picture taken of her and another dancer—Mila was her name—at the last spring performance. In this picture, they actually looked like friends. Pretty girls in their pretty ballet shoes with pretty smiles. Mila had been her rival throughout the years, but they had understood each other to a certain extent.

Unlike her mother. Her mother didn't understand the kind of commitment and dedication Miranda had put into her dancing. She probably never would.

Her mother had promised her a fresh start when she came to Smallville. But a fresh start was anything but what Miranda wanted. She'd had it all at the dance academy in Metropolis, she'd been able to do what she loved.

Now, she was stuck in the boonies, without any friends. Even the backstabbing bitches she had known over the years from ballet were a welcome sight at this time. Frenemies were better than being friendless. Even if Mila was probably cheering at the prospect of being awarded all the lead roles in future productions, Miranda still felt a pang of sadness when she thought of her rival

Miranda slid down to the floor, leaving the picture on her desk, finally coming back to the present.

She slid the boots from her feet and curled them up into her, as a knock sounded on the door. She glanced up, deciding she'd better stand up or risk seeming like a total psycho.

Miranda pulled open her bedroom door to find a smiling Clark standing there.

"Uh hi," he said, awkwardly shifting his feet. "I'm driving into town to meet some friends for dinner and I thought you might want to come."

Miranda looked back into her room, noting the emptiness in it. Did she really want to sit in her room and stare at the wall instead of going out to socialize?

The answer, apparently, was yes.

"I'd love to," Miranda said quietly, "but I've still got a lot of unpacking to do. Maybe next time?"

Clark looked slightly nonplussed, but didn't look angry. "Next time for sure. Don't worry about it."

Miranda managed a smile as she closed the door on Clark. She blew out a sigh as she retreated back onto the floor and slipped into her previous seated position.

Her gaze gradually wandered to the wall.

When Martha Kent found Miranda the next morning at six, she was no doubt surprised to find her already awake, seated on the floor. The fact that Miranda had simply sat there and stared at the wall all night was obviously unknown to her.

Miranda stood up as Mrs. Kent walked into the room. "Did you sleep well?"

Not a wink. "Yes," Miranda replied, "the bed is super comfortable."

"Good," Martha smiled. She stood a polite distance away from Miranda who had her shoulders hunched inward. Martha laughed as she glanced around the room. "I came up here thinking that I'd have to actually wake you up, but I see you're an early riser."

"It's a habit," she shrugged.

Martha chuckled lightly and her eyes raked over Miranda. "You might want to put on some sturdier clothes. Clark is going to show you the ropes on the farm today."

"T-the ropes?" Miranda stuttered.

"Yeah," Martha said, "didn't your mom tell you that you'd be working for us?"

"She didn't mention it." Typical Lisa Richardson. Miranda made a mental note to call her mother later to discuss her reluctance to tell her own daughter that she was going to have to engage in manual labor.

Martha seemed surprised. "Well, nonetheless, everyone who lives here earns their keep." She didn't say this unkindly, but the message was firm and clear. "Even Clark earns his keep." She added this with a grin.

"Understood," Miranda nodded.

"Great!" Martha clapped her hands together. "Well, breakfast is ready when you come down. We generally like to get out there before seven, so you'll want to get changed pretty soon." Martha headed for the door, pausing before she closed the door behind her. "You'll want to hurry if you want breakfast. Clark tends to eat quite a lot."

Miranda nodded, smiling at the older woman as she closed her bedroom door.

Wonderful.

"Where's Jonathan?" Miranda asked timidly, from the lower level of the barn. Being alone with Clark was going to make working impossible. He was just so… intimidating. Despite the fact that he seemed to be a pretty nice guy.

"Dad had to run to Metropolis," Clark explained, rummaging around in one of the supply sheds, "he should be back by lunch time."

Miranda nodded. "So… what exactly do we do now?"

"Well, I figured we could start with something easy, considering it's your first day and all," Clark grinned. "It is your first time doing this stuff right? You've never lived on a farm before?"

"Definitely not," Miranda said flatly. "I've lived in Metropolis my entire life."

"Okay, well the hay was delivered out front," Clark shrugged. "We can grab that and bring it in for the horses."

"Okay."

The two of them made their way out of the barn and travelled down the long dirt road that led to the white fenced gate. Stacks of hay were sitting just outside the gate, waiting for someone to pick them up.

"Hay is delivered once a week, usually on Sundays. We asked for an early delivery date this week though." Miranda nodded as Clark hefted three of the hay bales into his arms. He glanced at Miranda, no doubt contemplating whether or not she could even carry one of the hay bales.

She walked over and grabbed the top of one of the hay bales and lifted with all the strength she could muster. She yanked violently again, to no avail.

She sighed. "If you can get it up for me, I can carry it."

Clark laughed, setting his own hay bales down. He picked one up easily and held it at Miranda's shoulder level, lowering it slowly.

"You got it?" he asked, keeping a tight hold on it until she could wrap her arms around the bale. She nodded and braced herself as Clark let go. She staggered slightly, but managed to remain upright.

"Let's go," she ground out as Clark picked up his hay bales.

The two returned to the barn, Miranda staggering under the weight of her single bale. Periodically, Clark glanced back at her, probably making sure that she wasn't going to keel over. Once they were inside the barn, Miranda dropped the hay bale and rubbed her shoulder, sufficiently out of breath.

"How—" Miranda gulped in air rapidly. "—do you do this every day?"

Clark chuckled, dropping his bales next to hers. "You'll get used to it." Miranda's expression was flat at the thought of having to work this hard every day for the rest of the summer. "Come on there's still quite a few bales out there. Forty to be exact—"

Miranda groaned, her shoulders drooping.

"—we can milk the cows—"

"Cows?" Miranda raised her eyebrows.

"—and after that I'll teach you how to drive the tractor."

As if this day could get any worse.

"You want me to grab the cow's what now?"

"The teats."

"Where are those?"

"On the utter."

"No! Wait! Don't hit the sheep!" Clark shouted, reaching over from his perch next to the tractor's driver seat to yank the wheel to one side.

Miranda took the wheel again, her breathing shallow. "Sorry! Sorry! I've never done this before."

"It's okay, just turn left," Clark said, pointing ahead at the border fence between the Kent farm and the neighboring farm. "You're going to run into the fence."

Miranda turned the wheel a few times to the left, starting to panic as the tractor only moved a few inches to the left. Oh god, she thought to herself, trying to turn it some more. "It's not turning!"

"Just turn it to the—Left! Left!" Clark's voice raised in volume as the tractor crashed into the white fence. Miranda screamed, a high pitched sound until Clark reached over and turned the tractor off.

"S-sorry," she choked out, struggling not to have a full-blown panic attack.

Clark shrugged. "Don't worry about it too much. We can rebuild the fence."

Miranda was silent for a moment as she forced herself to relax. "I'm not very good at this."

"Most people aren't," he assured her, glancing at his watch. "We should probably head back to the barn, grab some wood and fix the fence. Dad won't be too happy if he comes back and sees that."

"Alright, just hold the nail with your left hand, and hit the head with the hammer until it goes all the way into the wood." Clark demonstrated for Miranda as she held the fence up.

"Got it," Miranda nodded, grabbing her own hammer and nail as Clark set to work nailing together his part of the fence.

She poised the nail just where they had put on of the little black marks—so that she would know where to hammer—and pulled the hammer back.

Miranda swung the hammer down, only to miss completely and hit herself in the hand. "Ouch!" she cried out, dropping the hammer. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Clark looked up in alarm. "You already hurt yourself?"

"Ow," she whined, cradling her hand into her chest.

"Let me see," Clark sighed.

"No it's—ow—fine," Miranda protested, surprising herself with the strength behind the statement. It was unusual for her voice to sound so forceful.

Clark ignored her and grabbed her throbbing hand. "Yep, that's gotta hurt. It needs ice though and lucky for you it's time to head in for lunch. I'll finish the fence up later."

The two started back for the Kent household together, walking side by side. "Tip for next time though? Don't take such a big backswing."

"It's about time you two came back in," Martha said, smiling as the two teenagers made their way back in around lunch time. They had seen Jonathan drive up to the house and make his way inside as they were making their way back for lunch.

Miranda wiped a bead of sweat making its way down her forehead as she took a seat across from Martha.

"I'll get ice," Clark offered, walking over to the freezer.

She struggled not to grimace as she glanced at the plate before, containing a heaping pile of food. Turkey sandwhiches, Miranda thought, on white bread. Discreetly, she took the bread off and hid it underneath her potato salad, leaving only the turkey.

If she was going to eat something, it might as well be protein. After all, protein helped to burn fat.

"How's the work been coming along so far?" Jonathan asked, glancing at Miranda and Clark.

Clark rummaged around the freezer, chuckling slightly. "Well… Miranda's—"

"Oh! Sweetie what happened to your hand?" Martha noticed Miranda was holding it and that it was beat red.

"Here you go," Clark said, handing her the bag of ice as he took the seat next to her.

Miranda slid the ice over her hand, wincing as it stung uncomfortably. She took a small bite of turkey and sipped her lemonade.

"Farm work is definitely not my forte," Miranda admitted. "Ask me to perform the Rose Adagio and I'll do it almost perfectly—

"The what now?" Jonathan interrupted.

Miranda stared at him blankly for a moment, until realization dawned upon her. "The Rose Adagio? From Sleeping Beauty? The classical ballet by Tchaikovsky?" The looks on the Kent's faces remained curiously blank. "It's one of the most difficult pieces of ballet choreography to perform."

"Ah, of course," Jonathan said. "You'll have to forgive us—"

"It's my fault," Miranda offered weakly, the thoughts of ballet beginning to seep back into her head. The thoughts of what she was missing most had been pushed to the back of her mind as she had stumbled through her farm work.

Now though, with nothing to occupy her mind, she remembered, and it immediately caused her to sober up. Grabbing her fork, she began to push her potato salad around the plate.

"I grew up in a house where it was all ballet all the time," Miranda explained. "I forget that things like the Rose Adagio aren't common knowledge."

Jonathan and Martha shared a laugh with each other, as if Miranda was just so adorable.

"Well Miranda," Jonathan said, "I'm sure you won't be that bad on the farm. You just have to get used to it."

Miranda nodded as Jonathan started telling a story from his youth about his first experiences working on the farm. She zoned out, smiling politely as she ate her turkey in small bites and sipped her lemonade. She laughed quietly when it was appropriate and when they all finished eating, she helped to clear the dishes.

Then, they went back to work.