Origins: A DC Comics Fanfiction

5 Clark

CLARK

        It had about four years since Jerry had died. Clark set down the old picture of Jerry he had been looking at. He hadn’t thought about Jerry in a long time. It had been about four years since those strange red beams had burst out of his eyes. Now, Clark was fourteen and in junior-high. Clark knew his parents were talking about home-schooling him next year. He had to admit, it was a good idea. Though he’d always been stronger than most people; and though if he didn’t walk with enough force in each stride he knew he’d be able to float over a tree; and though he had once killed his cat with heat beams from his eyes, stranger things were still happening.

“Clark!” he heard his mom call, “Hurry, you’ll be late for school!”

“Alright, mom!” Clark yelled, before scarfing down the last of his mother’s pancakes and rushing out the door to get to the school bus.

“Hurry,” the bus-driver said to him, as Clark stumbled into the bus, concentrating on putting his foot down on the steps with just the right amount of force. Why couldn’t he be just like a normal teenager? Why did he have to worry all the time about keeping himself under control. About putting his feet down harder when he walked because if he didn’t he would float off of the ground. But not too hard. Otherwise, his footsteps would crack the ground. He always had to be so careful, even when his life would get crazy... Clark hated it.

“Hey, faggot,” one of the older-kids yelled at him, “Did your mommy leave you a note in your lunch again?” The older kids usually got to sit in the back, while the youngest were in the front. That meant Clark had to sit right in between them... even though technically he had no idea how old he was, because his parents had found him without having any information about him or where he came from.

Clark rolled his eyes and tried to ignore them. He really wanted to hit him.

“Hey, dick-head, I’m talking to you!” the kid yelled.

“Stop it, Whitney!” a red-headed girl sitting next him yelled.

“Come on, Lana,” the kid said. Another boy next to him, stuck out his leg, tripping Clark.

Clark landed face-flat on the ground of the school-bus as it drove away.

“Come on, Clark,” he heard a familiar voice say. Clark looked up to see Pete Ross holding out his hand to him. Clark grabbed his hand and let his friend help him up, even though he could have easily floated onto his feet. He felt an arm reach around him, and help him up: Lana.

“Lana, what the hell are you doing?” Whitney asked as she helped Clark up.

“Don’t talk to me like that Pete,” Lana said. “Leave him alone.”

“Alright! I’ll leave him alone!” Whitney exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, “But only if...” Whitney leaned over and whispered something in Lana’s ear. She rolled her eyes, and giggled. Sitting down next to Whitney, she smiled at Clark apologetically.

Be cool, he thought. Be cool.

“Uh... thanks... Lana... thanks.”

Damn it.

Clark never could talk to her like an actual person. Anytime he tried to just say “hi”, he ended up just sounding like a retard. He’d been in love with Lana Lang since the third grade, and he couldn’t even talk to her. Damn it.

Lana giggled before sitting back down next to her boyfriend.

Clark slumped over in the seat next to Pete.