Confluent

by Jack-El49

Clark and Lois are the rock-steady power couple of the comic book universe. But both traveled very different paths that shaped them, helped define their hopes and dreams of finding love, and brought them into each other's arms. In three parts, Confluent tells their stories from a different perspective before and after they met, beginning with their teenage years.

4. Part One, Chapter 3

Part One

Chapter Three

Smallville, 2012

Junior high had not been particularly enjoyable for Clark and the first year of life at Smallville High was looking like more of the same. It was characterized by rather awkward overtures of friendship extended to many who ended up avoiding him like a disease. The decade or more of rumors and gossip poisoned his reputation in town. Overall, classmates were tolerant of Clark but because of all the rumors and assumptions, they did not trust him enough to want to get to know him. In short, they just preferred that he kept to himself and stayed away from them.

Pete was his lifeline and only link to normalcy. Clark knew of his reputation and Pete defended him against rebuffs. His only friend assured him that his day would come and that he should not be bothered by ignorant people who assumed things about him without knowing him. Clark appreciated Pete's sentiment, but he was not so sure the day would ever come that he would be accepted because deep down, Clark knew he was different and concluded that everyone else sensed it.

Lana contributed to his dilemma. She had not outright rejected him, but she was aloof most of the time. There were times when it seemed she was warming up to him only to completely ignore him other times. He attributed her reluctance to establishing a close friendship to her impressions of him after their first meeting.

Over the summer recess in 2011, Clark had asked his parents if he could use the old loft in the barn as a retreat, a space of his own where he could listen to music or ballgames without bothering them. He said he would fix it up with some old furniture and run some extension cords for light and a radio.

At first, Jonathan and Martha were concerned that their son was pulling away from them and isolating himself from society. "You know, you can't hide, Son," Jonathan said. "We tried to shield you from others when you were small because of your special heritage and abilities but I think you know why now and you're in control of those. We don't need to shield you anymore like we did in the past and you don't need to hide away."

"No, it's not that, Dad," Clark began. "I'm not hiding out and for the record, I'm not trying to avoid you or Mom. I just want my own space if it's okay. I want a place where I can hang out and read or listen to music or ballgames. I want a place where I can talk with Pete or any other friend that may come over, you know?" He paused while Jonathan and Martha exchanged glances. "My room was okay when I was a kid but it's a little small for having friends over. If Pete and I want to study together, we have to do it at the dining room table and then pick everything up when we're done." He then added, "It's just a place to spread out and hang out."

Hearing that, his parents agreed and Jonathan offered to help Clark get it set up. The two spent the better part of a week cleaning away debris and unused equipment and artifacts that had been there for decades. Jonathan ran three new circuits up to the loft from the service panel to ensure power was available without having to use extension cords that could overheat and cause a fire. He strung three strands of Edison lights and hardwired them into a switch at the top of the steps to the loft. The two of them also scrounged some surplus beams and planks to make a stairway to the loft rather than having to climb a ladder.

Martha lent a hand as well. She went by the Smallville second-hand store and found a few items for his refuge: a couch in relatively good condition, a table lamp, and a stand for a radio. She made some throw pillows for the couch and Jonathan made a bookshelf. Clark reclaimed an old wooden trunk that had been deposited in the barn years ago for a coffee table and some old produce crates were stood on end and fastened to the floor for end tables.

The loft had become Clark's hangout where he could think, read comic books and study in peace and quiet. When Pete came over, the two spent hours in the barn talking, listening to music or football games over the radio, and even studying once school started. The only time the boys left the barn was to shoot baskets, eat a meal at the dining room table, or use the bathroom.

At Christmas, the Kents gave Clark a 42-inch flat screen TV that Martha picked up at the Black Friday sale at Walmart. It immediately went into the loft and his PS3 followed, finally moving it out of the living room.

Lana had visited the loft a few times during the summer but only when Pete was there and only when she had no other engagements with her family or the new circle of friends she was assimilating into, and those times were seldom.

After enduring nearly two years of being ignored off and on, Clark asked Pete's opinion about Lana and her inscrutable demeanor. "Sometimes I think she's trying to break the ice and is trying to get to know me more," he said. "Then, other times, she's like a stranger to me. I don't get it."

Pete's advice was to give it time. "Hey man, Lana is all about being a part of the cool girls' group in school. It's so obvious. Everything she does is calculated to win their approval and acceptance. Unfortunately, you're not that group's biggest fan so she can't be seen being your biggest fan either."

"Is that your way of saying she's really shallow?" Clark asked.

"No," Pete boomed. "It's a girl-thing. They all want to be considered a cool girl. Most have this innate need to be validated by their peers and be at the top of the pecking order."

Clark scowled. "And where did you come up with that theory?"

Pete chuffed and shook his head. "You know my mom is a counselor, right? She has a degree in sociology. She once told me what I just told you." Pete added that that he thought once Lana gained acceptance into the circle of girls she wanted to belong to, that she would then be more open to a friendship with him. "You have to play it cool though, Clark," he said. "Don't press the issue, let her come to you. Just mirror her actions back and just seem indifferent to whatever persona she's exhibiting with you. If you don't, you'll end up pushing her away. If you act like you don't care one way or the other, she'll start looking for ways to make you care."

In truth, Lana had been deeply conflicted in junior high and even now in the first year of high school. Pete had been right about her motivations, and she was slowly gaining acceptance into the group of girls that were popular in school. Like Lana, these girls were very attractive, and they commanded the attention of most of the guys at school. They were the objects of desire in junior high; they knew it and they used it any way that they could.

Upon moving on to high school, some of the boys that had ogled her in junior high had been bold enough to try date Lana but she rejected them, usually telling the other girls that the guys in junior high just did not measure up to what she was looking for in a boyfriend. She was more discriminating than that, she said, and would take her time to judge what was being offered up in Smallville High. The reputation of Lana being unobtainable made her even more desired by guys and more valued as a member of the cool girls' group.

All the while, her baser desires seemed to grow stronger by the month and the more she saw Clark, which was almost every day, and the more she wanted to get closer to him. Yet, she knew she needed to firmly cement her place with the cool girls too, and it seemed all those girls viewed Clark as cute but weird or strange, the product of a cult-like upbringing. Others simply labeled him a freak and considered anyone dumb enough to be involved with him a freak too. And adding to the peer pressure to avoid any extraneous interaction with Clark Kent were the admonitions of her parents.

So, Lana walked the tightwire of being aloof and spending as much time as she could with her circle of new friends but still wanting Clark to at least consider her a friend. When no one else was around, she dropped the charade and tried to show Clark more attention than she did at school when she was more distant, guarded, and aloof.

On bus rides home after school, Pete and Clark always sat together and Lana usually sat in the seat across the aisle from Clark or in the seat behind them. The two young men talked, and once most of the others were off the bus, Lana would periodically interject her thoughts to impress upon them that although she was quiet, she had been listening to them. She often commented on whatever Clark had said. Yet, despite her attempts to show more interest in him, Lana seemed to remain nothing more to Clark than the next-door neighbor.

Lana weighed her relationships. She was secure in the knowledge that the cool girls wanted her in their group and in fact, was becoming the tentpole of the group. But she was growing frustrated with the lack of a relationship that was deeper than cosmetics, gossip, fashion, and Hollywood culture. She saw other girls at school who had boyfriends, stealing moments of intimacy with them between classes and they looked so content. She longed for some intimacy in her life and the more it was denied, the more she longed for it. She decided that after the Spring break was over, she would begin gradually engaging Clark more often, even at school. She calculated she was solidly anchored in the cool girls' group by now, and she could parry criticism from any of those girls. Lana knew if she could just get him interested in her by the end of the school year, then they had all summer to spend together.

Up the hill from the Lang farm, Clark began grappling with a new ability. Until now, Clark's special powers had been his speed, strength, his immunity to human illness, and his virtual invulnerability to injury. All those powers had grown exponentially stronger as he grew into his teen years. But shortly after his 15th birthday, he began noticing sounds he had never noticed before. He clearly heard the whispers of other kids at school, and he heard his parents talking in the house when he was outside doing his chores. When he told Jonathan and Martha about it at the dinner table, they looked concerned.

"That's a pretty dangerous ability, Son," Jonathan said. "Listening in to other's conversations isn't only improper, you could end up misinterpreting things or hearing something you weren't meant to hear." Clark nodded slowly. "Think about it, Clark. Think about conversations we have together here at the table and then imagine that someone was listening to us." Jonathan looked at Martha. "Think about what that could do to our family."

"Think about how it could impact your relationships with others now and into the future, Clark," Martha added. "It's just wrong. It's like hiding under an open window listening to others' private conversations."

Clark grew defensive. "I'm not trying to hear what other people are talking about, I just hear it. It's like being in a crowd of people who are talking at the country fair. You're not trying to listen to anyone specifically, but you do hear them and everything else."

Martha reached out and put her hand over her son's. "We know you're not, Honey, we're only saying that you have to blot all that out."

Jonathan weighed in. "Son, do what you did when you were in a crowd before this ability developed. You need to train yourself to focus only on those things you want to hear and block everything else out." He paused and Clark nodded slowly. "You know, if this ability is like the others, it will only get stronger, and you'll end hearing more and more. If you don't start training yourself to focus now, all the noises are going to literally drive you crazy as your ability gets stronger," he warned.

Clark knew his mom and dad were right. He also knew that this was going to be harder than acting weaker than he was or slower than he truly was. This will require training and concentration. "We have faith that you can do this," Martha added.

So, for several weeks afterwards, Clark spent his time trying to hone in on specific sounds around the farm. He would turn the television on to a raucous game show and then focus on listening for the sound of a bee buzzing around corn flowers outside of his house. He would go to the barn and turn up his radio as loud as it could play and listen for the sound of his mom humming a song while making dinner. He quickly found that while he could hear almost everything going on around him, he could decide what he wanted to listen to, if anything at all, and tune out the rest.

The last few months of school had stirred a change in him and his relationships. He began to feel more special than different, less self-conscious about his special abilities and powers because he could keep them hidden and use them as he chose. Because of that, he felt he did not have to shrink from to people anymore and the first one he wanted to get closer to was Lana.

For her part, Lana noticed Clark's friendly overtures, attributing them to her well-designed plan. She would talk with him on the way to school, smile and say hi when she saw him in the hallway between classes and would be more engaging on the bus ride home. She was happy with herself knowing that she was getting his attention and gaining his favor. Lana was spending afternoon time with Clark even when Pete was not there. They talked about school and their classes and even had a few laughs about things that had gone on their first year of high school.

To most kids and teachers who did not follow him closely or were new to Smallville High, he was no different than any other kid and Clark began feeling good about himself. His circle of friends had not grown very much but it seemed that classmates were less abrasive toward him and there were lots of different kids from the area who never knew him. And more than that, he thought that maybe Lana wanted to be more than just a friend next door to him.

Two and a half months that had passed and Clark felt that he had mastered his new ability. But it was not until the last day of school when his newest ability betrayed him.

The last bell of the last day of school rang and all the students poured out into the hallways, whooping and hollering at the end of the school year. They made their way to their lockers. In the cacophonous hallway, among the voices of excited conversations echoing off the concrete walls and the sound of locker doors slamming shut, Clark heard Lana, a little over one hundred feet down the hall, talking with the cool girls as they cleaned out their lockers.

He stood at his locker, door open, listening to the conversation. At first, he was amused and a little flattered because they were asking Lana about him, implying that he and Lana were more than just friends. Lana played coy and dismissed their questions saying that she did not like him like that. She added coolly, "I'm just nice to him because he lives next door and it's what my parents expect of me."

You're lying, one of the girls named Margie accused. We busted you and you're just embarrassed for trying to keep your shit with the weirdo on the downlow. We all know it.

Lana grew defensive. "Cut it out, you guys! Why are you saying this?"

Because you want to be one of us but if you're hanging with the weirdo, you aren't one of us and should just stick with the rest of the dorks and losers around here who don't mind hanging out with weirdos, Margie replied.

And also because we have eyes, the second girl replied, and we see it happening! Hey, he's cute in a stranger-danger type of way; we get it. One of the girls snickered. It got louder in the hallway and the girls closed a tighter circle around Lana. We always see you smiling, having fun hanging around with him, another girl said.

Her faced flushed and she could feel the blood rising in her cheeks. "Fun? He isn't fun! You said what he is, strange. You guys know that. Yes, I talk to him sometimes because he's my neighbor, but sometimes it's like I'm talking to someone from another planet instead of next door. He takes everything so seriously…it's hard to even be around him most of the time."

Then why are we noticing you hanging around with him so much and staring at him like he's your man or something?

"Jesus, Margie," Lana bristled. "It's because I like Pete, okay?" she recovered. "Pete and I will try to hang out," she added, "but Clark is always somehow in the middle. He latches onto Pete because there's no one else who will hang around with him. I can't get near Pete without Clark being there. So, when Pete's not around and Clark sees me, he tries to latch on to me."

Bullshit, the third girl accused. We've watched you with Clark and it's obvious that you like him, and then added, and it's obvious he likes you.

So obvious, the second girl added.

"No, I don't! You're wrong," Lana complained.

We don't think so, Margie said. So, give it up. What we were wondering is what you two were going to be doing together out in those barns all summer? A couple of the girls snickered again but Lana apparently ignored them. Maybe a few love sessions in the hayloft when the cult leaders aren't at home?

Oh, it won't be a few sessions, the second girl added, and the group snickered again.

The third girl joined in. She's hot for him and if I was betting, I'd bet they'll be banging like livestock during mating season before the summer's out. She chuckled. I'd be tempted to give it a go! The girls burst out laughing.

"Who's stopping you, then?" Lana demanded.

You'd shit puppies if she tried, Margie replied. Don't worry, Lana. You can do whatever you want with that freak; we'll stick with the normal guys.

"Fuck you, Margie!" Lana hissed. "You don't have a clue. If you lived next door to him, you'd know how stupid you sound; all of you! He's strange, a friggin' freak; he isolates himself in a barn loft and doesn't associate with anyone but his parents and Pete. I see him on the bus every day; I see him occasionally when our parents visit, and I see him here at school. What do you expect me to do?"

We already told you; we expect you to jump him, the second girl replied matter-of-factly, this summer in fact. The others laughed. We know you want to, she added.

"Don't be gross," Lana shot back. "I'm not doing anything with anyone, you guys," she protested, "but if I was, it wouldn't be with him. Why are you guys acting like this?"

I told you. You want to be one of us and we want that too. But you can't be one of us and be associating with weirdos because your weird-ass boyfriend will think he can associate with us. And that ain't ever happening," Margie declared.

Lana knew her membership in the cool girls' group was slipping away. "For the last time, he's not my boyfriend and I'm barely friends with him."

You liar, the last girl teased. You are so totally hot for him and God, it's so obvious.

I wouldn't mind trying some freak, Margie offered, if it was anybody but him and the group broke out in laughter again. I just don't want to end up…

"No, give him a shot, Margie," Lana hissed, sensing all was lost. "Maybe that's what he needs. Maybe it's your brand of slut he's been missing all these years." She thrust the last of her books into her backpack. "But don't delude yourself thinking it would bother me. I wouldn't care what you did with him," she declared yet the venom in her voice told the opposite story. She slammed her locker, pushed her way through the circle of mean girls and headed to the gym to clear out that locker before she boarded the bus.

The mean girls squealed and laughed at Lana's theatrics but by then, Clark had quit listening long before that moment. Lana's words had been a sledgehammer hitting him in the gut and it confirmed his deepest fears. She did not want others to know they were more than neighbor because she thought he was weird and was embarrassed by their close friendship, she was forced to be nice. He was weird, a freak. He was an annoyance. The thought of being with him was gross to her. Why couldn't she just stand by me? he wondered.

His feelings for Lana had grown deeper than just friendship and he thought that she was feeling the same but what Clark heard was unmistakable. The girl he thought he knew well, the girl he started having adult thoughts about, the girl that knew him the better than any other girl thought he was strange, weird, from another planet. Alien, in other words.

…but if I was, it wouldn't be with him.

In the past six years, the end of school routine had been Clark and Pete spending the 40-minute bus ride home planning out their summer. One boy would suggest something to do, the other would agree or counter. With Lana gradually joining their cabal just after Spring Break, they would consult her for opinions, suggestions, and her interest in their plans.

This year it was a quiet ride home on the bus. Pete tried to talk but Clark was deep in thought and not in a talkative mood. The best that Pete could get was a grumbled three-word response from him. He never glanced in Lana's direction even though she was sitting directly to his right across the aisle. He either looked straight ahead or down at his bookbag resting at this feet although he could see Lana out of the corner of his eye, shifting uneasily in her seat. Was she nervous about what she said, he wondered. There is no way that she could know that I could hear what she was saying. He paused. Do I make her nervous? Clark wondered what the summer would be like now.

"Is everything okay, Clark?" he heard Lana ask quietly, amongst the noise in the loud bus. "Is something the matter?" she whispered.

He wanted to scream, "Don't talk to me…I'm strange, a friggin' freak, remember?" But he did not answer. He knew if he did, he might not be able to stop. He had considered telling Lana everything this summer but now that had all changed.

Pete and I will try to hang out, but Clark is always somehow in the middle.

Clark wondered if Pete secretly felt that way too?

…There's no one else who will hang around with him.

He desperately wanted to share his secret with someone other than the grown-ups around him because there were things that he wanted to talk about with someone his own age. At first, he always thought that he should tell Pete but in the past few months, he realized that the person he wanted most to tell was Lana. He wanted to show her how special he was. He had played the scenario over and over in his mind, impressing her with his strength, with his speed, with his virtual indestructibility.

…when Pete's not around and Clark sees me, he latches on to me.

She would be amazed, excited, and a little scared of the extraordinary guy next door. She would reach out to Clark, and they would embrace and then they would kiss…a real kiss. And the kiss would go deeper and deeper, far beyond just their first kiss.

I'm not doing anything with anyone but if I was, it wouldn't be with him.

The bus jerked to a stop to let some students off and Clark grabbed his bookbag and abruptly stood up. "What are you doing?" Pete asked. He smirked. "You lost, bro?"

"I'm walking home," he grumbled.

"Clark?" Lana called. He shot her a glance that froze her in place and then walked down the aisle and stepped off the bus.

Someone muttered, "There goes Dylan Klebold. It looks like we survived another year at school," and others laughed.

"What are you doing, Clark?" Pete yelled out the window and turned to Lana for answers. "What the hell was that all about? What's the matter with him?" He paused. "Did you two have an argument or did you do something to make him upset?"

Lana shook her head and looked confused. She shrugged her shoulders and held up her hands. "I don't have a clue." They watched him as the bus pulled away.

"He seemed mad. Do you think he was mad?" Pete asked her.

"Maybe," Lana replied, as puzzled as Pete was over Clark's behavior. "At what though?" she asked rhetorically.

They sat in silence for a moment. "Man," Pete finally spoke and looked at Lana, "Sometimes he can really be strange, you know? Really just weird and that doesn't help his case with others."

And there it was. Strange and weird. The words rattled Lana; they slapped her in the face. Most of the kids their age had learned to live with Clark and rarely spoke of him in those terms and yet, they were two of the words she used to describe him a little over an hour ago just because she was being teased. Now it was Pete using them.

"Shit!" she muttered to herself but loud enough for Pete to hear.

"What? Did you say something, Lana?" Pete pressed. "If you did, tell me because I'm wracking my brain trying to figure this one out."

With all the noise in that hallway, Lana thought, it would have been impossible for him to have heard me. But he seemed really mad at me. Was he mad or was he hurt? She suddenly feared it was the latter and her stomach tightened. He would get over being mad but what could she do if he was hurt by what she said? He wouldn't even look at me, she thought. She replayed the whole bus ride back in her mind. Did he even say anything to Pete? Yes, she recalled. He said a few words to him when he sat down. He didn't say anything to me though…at all. And shit…that look he just gave me!

Lana ran her hand through her hair, combing her mind for answers, trying to reconcile Clark's erratic change. Suddenly she knew the answer. It had to be one of those bitches. One of them, probably Margie, said something to him before he got on the bus. She started to get that sickening feeling in her stomach. She began ticking off all the excuses she used to deny how she felt about Clark. One of them had to have said that I didn't like him, that my parents made me be nice to him, that I thought he was weird and he just interfered with me hanging out with Pete. He was hurt; that has to be it. Shit! One of them told him what I said and it hurt him. That's all it could be it and now he's mad…at me! Hurt because of me. Shit! Why did I even deny it? Margie would jump at the chance to have Clark as a boyfriend. Why didn't I just say I liked Clark? Why should I care what they think? Now what?

"Earth to Lana!" Pete barked and it shook her from her thoughts. "First Clark, now you?" He was staring at her. "Are you sure you didn't have a fight or say something," he pried.

"No," she said unsteadily. "I…I was just trying to remember if anything happened that made him act like that."

"Maybe I'll call him when I get home," Pete said. "I want to find out what's bugging him because he was fine when class let out an hour ago. We talked about planning out our summer on the ride home. It's like a switch got flipped between the end of class and the bus."

Shit! "No. I'll do it," Lana interjected. "My mom wants me to take a plate up to Mrs. Kent this afternoon, so I'll go up and talk to him. I'll find out if he's okay and what's bothering him." Before he could say anything more, she added, "I'll text you and let you know if I find something out, okay?"

They both fell silent on the rest of the ride home. After about another ten minutes, the bus pulled off the main road and onto the one and a half-mile dirt road that formed an elongated u-shape connecting to the main road at each end and providing access to Lang, Kent, and Ross farms.

The bus slowed and came to the school bus stop by Lana's home. She bolted from her seat and started to move down the aisle. "Bye Lana," Pete said loudly. She turned and looked at him, opened her hand in a waving gesture, "I'll text you." She turned and hurried to the door.

The bus pulled off and Pete glanced back but Lana had already disappeared behind overgrown hedges that separated the fields from their yard. He turned back. "Weird," he exclaimed.

Clark arrived home about ten minutes before the bus turned off the road onto the dirt road that ran in front of his home. Martha was in the kitchen at the sink peeling a potato and immediately knew when he came in that Clark had not taken the bus home. She would have seen the bus from the kitchen window had her son ridden it home. "Clark?" she called.

"Yes, ma'am?" He trudged into the kitchen.

"Why didn't you ride the bus home?" She looked up and saw the look on his face. "What's wrong, Sweetheart?" She dried her hands and hurried over to Clark. She took him by the hands and looked at him, but he did not match her gaze. "What happened, Clark?"

He shifted a bit and finally said, "I overheard some things today that bothered me, Mom." He did not want to talk about this with Martha and she sensed it. "It's okay, though. It's nothing really. I just didn't want to ride home; wanted to walk instead." He paused figuring that he had not said enough. "I just wanted some time to think without everyone talking around me." He changed the subject. "What time is dinner tonight?"

Martha frowned. "About six-thirty, like always. Why, Honey?"

"I just wanted to be alone for a while. I thought I'd go out down to the creek and maybe do some fishing."

"Fishing?" Martha frowned skeptically. "Are you going to bring dinner home, Clark?"

He cracked a smile. "I doubt it, Mom. I just wanted to sit and think about some things by myself." Clark answered and kissed her on the cheek.

"Isn't that what your loft is for?" she asked.

"I just need the peace and quiet right now, Mom. I have some things to sort out," he replied.

He turned and walked out while Martha went back to the sink. Her son was growing up and wanted a little independence already. He would be leaving home in a few years and the thought brought tears to her eyes as she began peeling another potato. But that was not the reason he walked home today and whatever it was, it troubled her.

Meanwhile, Clark went up to his room, dropped off his books and headed for the door. Fishing pole. He backtracked and rummaged through a storage closet under the stairs, found an old fishing pole, and headed out the door, disappearing into the stubbled field of corn plants they had planted in the last two weeks. He continued down over the rise to where the creek meandered and created a line of demarcation among the various farms.

About half an hour after he left, there was a knock on the door and when Martha opened it, saw Lana standing on the front porch. "Well hello, Lana. Come on in," she said.

Lana entered and handed Martha a plate. "My mom wanted me to bring this back. She said to tell you 'thanks'. She stood there awkwardly silent.

"I'll bet you're glad to be done with school."

"Yes, I am Mrs. Kent," Lana replied. She could not think of something to say so she stood there not quite comfortable to just ask about Clark. Martha relieved her of that burden.

"Well, Clark went out to go fishing at the creek if you're looking for him."

She smiled sweetly and nodded. "I thought I'd see if he wanted to come over after dinner and listen to some music."

"I don't know why he wouldn't, Sweetheart. But he's down at the creek if you want to go ask him." She paused and sensed there was more to Lana's appearance on her front porch than an invitation to hang out after dinner. "I don't think his father has anything for him to do after dinner," Martha paused and looked up, then back down. Lana thanked her and started to leave when Martha said, "Hey, let me ask you something before you go though. Clark came home and he seemed to be upset about something. Do you have any idea if he had any trouble at school today?"

Lana flushed, the color rose from her throat to her cheeks, a human thermometer that just registered a hit on a hot button topic. "Not that I know of," she replied haltingly. "But he did seem preoccupied with something," she rebounded, trying to sound convincing. "I know he didn't take the bus home," she finished.

"That's okay, dear," Martha replied. "Clark said it wasn't a big deal and I believe him. But I just wanted to know if you knew anything that might be troubling him." She smiled. "He tries to shield us from his troubles sometimes and it's just not easy for him." She took a deep breath and exhaled. "Well go ahead and run along and find Clark. And you make sure you tell your mom and dad that I said hi."

"I will. Thank you, Mrs. Kent." Lana turned and tried to walk as casually as she could out the door and off the front porch while fighting the urge to cry every step of the way. Martha watched from the door and then the living room window as Lana turned at the corner of the house and headed toward the field. She smiled when she saw Lana wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and head toward the creek to find Clark. Matters of the heart, she thought. I suspected as much.

It took Lana about twenty minutes to carefully walk down the rows of young corn plants and reach the creek. She looked around but Clark was nowhere to be found. She walked along the edge of the creek in the direction of her property and saw a fishing pole leaned up against a large bur oak. The yellow-green catkins of a month ago had now burst open, creating a beautiful light green shroud of new leaves. Lana picked up the pole and then looked around for signs of him. She called out his name and walked to the very edge of the bank looking to see if Clark had gone across the bubbling creek. Nothing.

She glanced around to make sure no adults were around and then yelled, "God damnit, Clark. I know you're around here." Nothing. A sob caught in her chest and she sat down at the base of the oak and began to cry because he would have joined her otherwise. But now, all doubt about the cause of Clark's erratic behavior had been removed and she knew she was to blame. He's strange, a friggin' freak.

Clark heard Lana call his name and he could even make out her sobs. He was hearing this while sitting on the catwalk along the circumference of the Smallville water tower, about a mile from where Lana was sitting. He straddled one of the handrail newels and let his legs dangled over the edge. She somehow knew that it was her conversation with the girls at school that had hurt him. He was not sure how she figured it out though. But because she came looking for him and was crying by the creek right now, he was certain that she felt guilty and for that, Clark found himself torn. Part of him wanted to rush to her and hold her, telling her that it was okay. The other part of him felt glad that the vigorous denials that she thought she had made in confidence had reached his ears and turned out to make her feel as badly as it did him.

Misery loves company, Clark, he heard his Dad's voice in his head say. And was that what this was all about, he wondered. Are you getting any satisfaction for feeling miserable by letting Lana feel miserable about herself?

I don't like him like that. They make me hang out with him. His jaw tightened.

Clark looked at his watch. The sun was headed for the horizon but had not begun to drop below it and would not for at least another two hours. It would be six-thirty in about ten minutes and Clark had to get back home. He began to climb down and then looked around. When he was sure no one could possibly see him, he dropped about forty feet to the ground.

He thought about racing over to the creek to get his fishing pole but that would mean running into Lana and he did not want to do that yet. I'm not doing anything with anyone, you guys, but if I was, it wouldn't be with him.

Instead, he started toward home. There was still Pete. Pete was his friend, of that, he was sure. Well, pretty sure. And Pete called him before coming over to his house, not the other way around so how could he be butting in with Pete and Lana hanging out by themselves? That was simply not true.

Clark began to realize that not all was lost. He was not sure why Lana said the things she said to those girls but what she said about Pete was not right and it was not true.

He's friggin' weird. Was that Lana's opinion of him or was it because the girls were picking on her? A scream broke his chain of thought. He stopped and listened. He heard another scream, and he knew who it was. Lana.

Seconds later, Clark slowed and came to the edge of the creek and found Lana with her back to the oak tree and the fishing pole in her hand. She did not see him arrive because her eyes were focused on a large, hulking coyote with its back up and hair raised. It snarled at her and showed its large, sharp canine teeth. It cautiously crept forward and she swung the pole at the beast and it stopped momentarily. She screamed at it and swung again and this time, the coyote had stepped too close and the tip of the pole swatted the animal across its nose causing it to yelp and back off.

Clark stepped up and pulled the pole away from Lana. She was startled by him and how quickly he had appeared and disarmed her. "Go, Lana. Get out of here!" he ordered, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the big coyote. He was not afraid of the animal, but he had to appear like he was. "Go!" he shouted.

Lana began backing away, watching the animal as she did. When she was about fifteen feet from Clark, she took her eyes off it and began to turn and run. The coyote watched Clark but had begun to circle him and when Lana took her eyes off it, the coyote juked and lunged in the direction of Lana. She screamed and stumbled but kept herself from falling. The coyote yelped and she looked back to find Clark had somehow put himself between her and the animal and had slapped or punched it on the side of its head, sending it sprawling onto the grassy bank. "Run, Lana!" Clark boomed and she turned and sprinted away. This time, she did not look back until she was halfway to her house, and she never saw the beast again nor did she see Clark for the rest of the summer.

Jonathan was hanging up the phone when Clark walked in the front door. It was 7:24 PM and his father glared at him. "That was Henry Lang. He was calling to see if you were okay. He told me what had happened with Lana and that coyote." Clark nodded. "What were you two doing at the creek?" Clark hesitated. "And don't tell me you were fishing because I know that's not what you were doing."

Clark was repentant and they walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. He told Jonathan what happened at the creek. Martha joined the conversation while re-heating dinner for her son and asked what he was doing there in the first place. He exhaled and then told them what he had heard Lana say to the girls at school. He recounted the whole conversation and ended by saying that everything she said had just reinforced everything that he always knew: despite trying to fit in, he was a freak and he always would be. People his age sensed it and he'd never fit in, he'd never have real friends, and he would never find anyone who would want to be with someone like him.

Martha got up to check on her son's dinner and wipe her eyes. Clark saw his father's eyes grow watery and Jonathan stood and pulled his son up and hugged him fiercely. "No, Son, we love you and there will be others," he said hoarsely. "And you're wrong, you'll find someone. Believe me Clark, you will. And when she finds out who you are, it won't matter because she'll know what you're made of, and she will love you for it for the rest of your lives; just like your mom and I will for the rest of ours. Don't ever doubt that."

He held Clark a little longer and then let go. "Henry said that Lana was terrified by what happened and they are worried about her. They are sending her off to Bangor, Maine to stay with her aunt for the summer because of it." He paused. "She's leaving in the morning so you won't have to worry about what she thinks for a while."

The next day Pete came over and they played Grand Turismo almost nonstop over the entire weekend. The loft and Pete's presence had lifted Clark's spirits. Pete had never mentioned their last day on the school bus but said that his parents told him about Lana and the coyote. He wanted to know how Clark was able to keep Lana from being attacked. "I attacked first," Clark said confidently. "Coyotes don't want to mess with me!" he declared.

Pete snickered. "Bro, you need a T-shirt that says, 'Women want me, Coyotes fear me'." Clark laughed out loud, and Pete added, "At least half of it will be true!" When the laughter died down, Pete asked, "So what; did you kill that coyote?"

"No," Clark replied. "I just ran it off for good and I'm pretty sure it won't be back."

Which was true, to an extent. Once Lana was over the rise, Clark picked the dazed animal up and ran with it to the desert between Smallville and Scottsdale, Arizona before releasing it. The instant he put the animal down, it yelped and ran off as fast as it could and as far away from Smallville as it could get.