Chapter Text
“Lois!” Lucy screamed from behind the closed door, “Where’s my orchid sweater?”
“Did you check the floor?” Lois yelled back.
Lucy grunted, and the sound of her stomping footsteps receded. Lois turned back to Clark.
“I’ll give you the number of our hotel room once we get there,” she said.
He nodded. She smiled and hugged him.
“I’ll miss you,” she said wistfully.
“I’ll miss you, too,” he mumbled into her hair.
She pulled back and kissed him. The sound of Lucy’s footsteps returned. Lois felt a gust of air, and when she opened her eyes, Clark was gone.
“Didn’t find it,” her little sister said behind her.
Lois sighed exasperatedly.
“If it’s not in your room, it’s probably in the hamper.”
Lucy swiveled on her heel to bound away. As soon as she was out of sight, Lois ran over to the window and looked out. Clark was nowhere in sight.
~
“Aren’t the Lanes going on vacation over spring break?” Martha asked Clark as they drove toward the school.
“Yeah. Not Mr. Lane, though.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“He’s busy, I guess.”
“Hmm. Must be lonely, in that house by himself.”
Clark didn’t want to say anything bad about Mr. Lane, but from what Lois had told him, he probably liked being alone.
“You think you can survive a week without her around?” his mom teased.
He turned to the window and mumbled something incoherent under his breath, and Martha laughed. They reached the school, and she parked.
“See ya later.”
“Thanks, Mom. Bye.”
The building seemed abandoned. Clark’s footsteps echoed in the hallway. He headed for the library where his friend Mike was already sitting with their biology project instructions.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
They stared dejectedly at the instructions and the textbook for a while before drudging through the first set of calculations.
“My head’s gonna explode. I’m going to the bathroom,” Clark announced.
“Me too. I hate when teachers assign things over break. I just wanted to relax for a few days.”
They meandered to the nearest bathroom, wasting as much time as possible. Clark finished first and waited in the hallway for Mike. Out of sight, one of the outside doors opened, and a large group of people came in. He recognized their voices.
Panicking, he ducked inside a nearby classroom and shut the door. The faucet turned on in the bathroom. Clark willed for Mike to stay in there long enough for the football team to pass by. Their voices got louder, but they didn’t recede. They went into the bathroom. His stomach dropped.
“Hey, Mike,” Russell said with false friendliness, “What are you doing here?”
Mike hesitated before answering. “Project.”
Russell kissed his teeth. “That biology one? Pain in the ass. Which version are you doing?”
“Eyes.”
“Same as me! How far along are you?”
“Maybe a third,” Mike said, trying hard to sound relaxed.
“Me and Brad are kind of busy over break ‘cause of practice. You could help us out, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew I could count on you. That reminds me, actually…Hey, Brad?”
“Yeah?” said Brad.
“Do you remember the last time we saw Mike in the bathroom?”
“Uhhh…No.”
“Idiot. Last year, we were having a chat with Kent, and Mike here decided to snitch. Got us detention for a week. Would’ve been worse if it weren’t for Coach.”
“Oh, yeah! I think we kind of owe him for that one.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
“C’mon, guys,” Mike said, still trying to be calm, “That was a long time ago. I’ve been doing your homework. Can we just forget about it?”
“I don’t like having my reputation sullied in front of Coach.”
Clark’s hand was on the doorknob, but he was too late. A blow landed, and Mike cried out. Clark flung open the door and ran into the bathroom. Mike was hunched over a sink.
“Leave him alone,” Clark blurted.
Russell grinned like the Cheshire Cat and turned to face him.
“Speak of the devil.”
Three of the players grabbed Clark, one of them Brad. Russell punched Mike in the gut, and he crumpled to the floor. Clark’s instinct was to wrench himself free, but he remembered the last time he did that. He vividly recalled the sickening crunch of the other kid’s arm. For months, people had given him fearful and dirty looks, even in church. Though part of him felt that the guy deserved it, it hadn’t felt good to hurt someone – however incidentally.
Mike was looking up at him pleadingly. Russell raised his foot.
“Stop!” Clark screamed and writhed, but not forcefully enough to break free.
“Awww, Kent’s worried about his little buddy,” Russell said mockingly, “Won’t even throw a punch for him, though. Why don’t we pick up where we left off a year ago, huh?”
Russell jerked his head toward a toilet stall, and his friends began to haul Clark towards it. Memories flashed through his mind: Being dragged across the floor, his backpack yanked off and the contents dumped into a puddle of stagnant water, begging before having his head forced into the bowl, the screech of his fingernails against porcelain…
He felt his throat constricting as a wild panic consumed him. There was a concrete privacy wall sticking out to his left. His hands shot out and latched onto it. Laughter rang out around him. He gripped the wall even harder as they lifted him by his legs and pulled. The wall cracked around his fingertips. The paramount rule of the Kent household was to never leave physical evidence of his abilities, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered now was holding onto his last scrap of dignity.
“C’mon, Kent, let go!” Russell laughed.
They jeered, but it only made him hold on tighter.
“Russell,” a hesitant voice said, “Coach is waiting on us.”
“Yeah, and we haven’t even pissed yet.”
With the jerky motions of a frightened animal, Clark glanced back to see a few guys standing in the corner. They looked uneasy. Hatred flared up inside him. People like them were the real problem. Feeling sorry, but not willing to step in.
“The freak’s not gonna let go,” Brad said, “We need a jackhammer.”
Russell was quiet for a moment before caving in. “Fuck it, he’s not budging. Leave him. Probably pissed his pants anyway.”
They dropped him, then stepped over him and Mike and proceeded to use the urinals as if they weren’t even there. Clark didn’t let go of the wall.
“Catch you two later,” Russell said as they filed out of the bathroom.
Brad paused to kick the wall beside Clark’s hands.
“Everyone’s gonna know that’s you,” he sneered.
When they were all gone, Clark finally let go. Concrete dust covered his fingers. If this got back to his parents, he’d be dead. Mike winced and grunted as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
“Are you ok?” Clark asked anxiously as he helped Mike to his feet.
“You can’t fight back just once?” Mike croaked, holding back tears, “Just once, so they’ll leave us alone?”
His glare cut into Clark like daggers.
“I’m going home,” Mike said and limped out the bathroom by himself.
Clark stood there for a long time, staring at his hands. A strangled yell burst out of him as he dug his nails into his opposite palm.