“Have you started your project yet?” Julie asked.
Lois was still angry at her for deserting her on Friday night, but she could understand how difficult it was to go against peer pressure. Julie was planning to join the cheerleading squad next semester and she had a lot to lose if the team turned against her. Julie was risking a lot just by being seen talking to Lois in the hallway.
“What project?” Lois asked begrudgingly.
“We were assigned group projects in Mr. Johnson’s class.”
“What? No we weren’t.”
“It happened when you went to the principal's office,” Julie said. She smiled at a passing cheerleader.
“Why didn’t anybody say anything?” Lois asked angrily.
“It’s not like people owe you anything,” Julie said. “You know what people were saying you’re trying to do.”
“Well I didn’t expect anybody to just stab me in the back. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m saying something now,” Julie said. “What do you want from me? You’re lucky I’m still talking to you. I need to make a good impression if I’m going to make the squad.”
“You’re a real hero,” Lois said dryly. Apparently courage only went so far.
******************************************
“Everybody else is in a group of three,” Lois pretested.
“There is an even number of people in the class,” Mr. Johnson said. “What do you want me to do?”
“Someone could’ve told me,” Lois said.
“It’s every student's responsibility to get his assignments for time he’s missed,” Mr. Johnson said. “I would have assumed one of your many friends would have informed you of your assignment.”
“I was only gone for 15 minutes,” Lois protested.
Mr. Johnson didn’t reply. He simply sat and looked at her without saying anything.
“Who is my partner?” Lois asked tiredly. At least she’d only lost two days to do the project.
Young Mr. Kent, of course, Mr. Johnson said. “As he was the only other student missing from class when the assignment was made.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Lois said.
“Everyone else made an effort to be in class on time,” Mr. Johnson said. “It’s only fair that they be given some input into choosing their partners.”
“There are only two of us, Lois said. She didn’t actually mind having to work with Clark, but she hoped she’d be able to wheedle some sort if concession out of Mr. Johnson.
“Why do you think teachers like group assignments?” Mr. Johnson asked.
“Less grading?” Lois asked. In her experience, teachers were just like anyone else. Anything that made their work easier was appreciated.
“In part,” Mr. Johnson admitted. "There are other considerations as well. Have you ever wondered why good students such as yourself are usually paired with students like Mr. Church?”
Lois scowled. Usually one or two people in the group ended up doing all the work while everyone else coasted. Given that Lois invariably ended up being one of those doing the lion’s share, she was less than thrilled with idea.
Mr. Johnson said, “In an ideal world the poor students would learn from the better students.”
Louis gave him a skeptical look. In her experience, the poor students didn’t learn anything more than they had to. When they have someone to do all the work they did nothing.
“It also provides an opportunity to pad the grades of the poor students so that it’s not necessary just see them again next year.”
Mr. Johnson wasn’t well liked by most students. He was known for being tough but fair. He was. also one of the teachers who had objected most strenuously to changing grades.
“That doesn’t seem...” Lois began.
“Fair?” Mr. Johnson stared at her. “I understand you are hoping to develop a career in journalism. One of the first lessons you’ll learn is that fairness is an ideal which isn’t often achieved in the adult world.”
Lois nodded slowly, although part of her still wanted to argue the issue. Part of the reason she wanted to become a journalist was to restore fairness to the world.
“In any case, you and Mr. Kent are two of my best students. Had you been in class I would have put each of you in a group with two of my slower students. Apparently no one wanted to work with any of them. In the end I suspect this will work to your advantage.”
Lois frowned. In a way, it could almost be considered a kindness.
“Given recent difficulties, I’m sure neither you nor Mr. Kent wanted to work with Mr. Church or his associates anyway.”
Lois froze, and then forced herself to smile. It was a kindness indeed, and also a way to lower the grades of Tom Church and his cronies. Although they were superficially popular, they were academically lazy, and some of them were actually stupid. No one wanted to do all the work for them.
“So tell me about the assignment,” Lois said.
“Are you sure he didn’t say we could work alone?” Clark asked.
Lois stared at him. Where was the thoughtful guy who’d helped her almost a week ago? “It’s a group project.”
Her voice was flat, and he rushed to explain himself. “It’s not that I don’t want to work with you, it’s just that I work a lot better alone.”
Had he caved in to peer pressure at last? Lois had thought he was practically immune to it.
“Apparently we’re stuck with each other,” Lois said; her tone was icy.
Clark seemed to realize that he was putting his foot in his mouth. “I’m a speed reader. How else do you think I can get through my classwork with my schedule?”
“So you think I’ll slow you down?” Lois asked incredulously. “My grade point average is just as good as yours.”
Her overall GPA was better, considering the years he’d let things slide. She couldn’t exactly taunt him with that without letting him know just how she’d come by that information. It was tempting, though.
“It’s not that, exactly...” Clark said, but she could hear the lie in his voice.
He wasn’t avoiding her because of peer pressure, or even because of what the principal had threatened. He actually thought she’d slow him down!
At the look on her face, he crumbled. “Fine,” he said. “When can we get together?”
Clark’s weekday schedule was insane. “What about Saturday afternoon?”
Clark nodded slowly. “I help serve lunch at a soup kitchen but I should be done by 2:00.”
Lois stared at him for a long moment with one raised eyebrow. Given everything else he was doing, there was no way he had time for charity work. She’d heard guys make claims like that before, usually to make themselves look good. They were the same guys who claimed to be going into the Peace Corps after graduation, yet somehow they never seemed to end up there.
Clark flushed and looked away. “It’s no big deal,” he muttered.
Lois realized that she’d hurt his feelings somehow. “I’m sorry. Maybe we can meet at your place?”
She’d been dying to know where he was really staying. He was obviously using Louie’s address in order to get in a better school district, but if he was on a bicycle, he couldn’t be as far away as Midvale.
He looked uncomfortable. “I’m really not allowed visitors. Maybe we can meet at the library downtown. I spent a lot of time there last year, and we’ll have all the resources available to work with.”
“Maybe I can pick you up from the soup kitchen,” Lois said. If he was going to make that kind of claim she had to call him on it.
He frowned for a moment, and then nodded. “It would give you a chance to meet with Brother Wayman. Maybe he can talk to you about options.”
“Clark,” Lois said. “I’m not ready for any of that.”
He held up his hand and said, “No pressure.” He reached into his backpack and tore off a piece of paper. “Here’s the address. 2:00 on Saturday.”
*****************
The soup kitchen was further downtown than Lois had realized, and she felt uneasy as she drove through the streets. This was obviously a bad part of town; everything was in disrepair and the people standing on the street corners had a look of hopelessness.
Some of them had a different look as she drove by; anger, or avarice. None of them looked like they had any business standing around, even in a pedestrian city like Metropolis.
It took her almost three trips around the block to find the nondescript building, but the smells coming through her window told her she was in the right place. She had to find a parking spot in an abandoned lot three buildings away and walk, and she felt terribly self- conscious.
She reached the doorway, which was opened by a stocky black man in a dark gray suit. His skin was dark, but he was graying at the temples. There was something about his eyes as he smiled, warm in a way that was somehow more real than she’d experienced from most adults.
“You must be Lois,” the man said. His voice was deep and resonant, and he clasped her hand in both of his. “I’m brother Wayman.”
“Oh,” Lois said faintly. “You’re Clark’s friend.”
She tensed inwardly, waiting for the pitch. Join us, convert to our religion, and give us your money. Her father had been skeptical about religion, and some of his cynicism had rubbed off on her, despite her determination to be her own person.
If he started trying to get her mother stuck in rehab, she was leaving. Her mother would never agree, and there wasn’t any point in even trying.
“Come on in,” Wayman said warmly.
The smells filling the air were pleasant; Lois was glad she’d eaten before she’d come, or she’d have been tempted. There had to be a special place in hell for someone who’d steal a meal out of a hungry person’s mouth.
The room was filled with tables, and she saw Clark standing beside one, leaning over and talking to a black man. Incongruously, there was a gigantic Saint Bernard sitting at the end of the table, snapping up scraps as fast as the man could give them to him.
Lois froze as she watched Clark for a moment. At school, he always seemed as though he was relaxed, although he tried his best to be inconspicuous. She hadn’t realized just how guarded he’d been, though, until she saw him now.
He laughed at something the man said, and he rubbed the dog’s head. His face lit up as he laughed, and it startled Lois to realize that she’d never seen him smile, at least not as openly as he did here.
“Clark has been a real blessing to us,” Wayman said from behind her. “There’s not a man here that he hasn’t helped.”
Lois jumped a little, startled. She’d forgotten the man was even there. “I’m sure he’s good at passing out the food,” Lois said. “But how much help could he really be?”
He was a teenager, and even if he was some sort of martial arts master, there wasn’t a lot teenagers could do to change the world. Lois fought against that every day; she wanted nothing more than to make the world better. Even so, she knew she’d have to wait until she was actually a reporter to do much.
“Ask anybody here,” Wayman said quietly. “Ask them what he did for them, and see what they say.”
“I don’t see how he has the time to do anything else,” Lois said, still staring at Clark. “His schedule is crazy already.”
“He takes time.” Wayman shook his head. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t sleep. Any time someone needs him, he shows up like a miracle.”
Like he’d shown up for Lois and her mother last week.
It confused Lois. How could she reconcile what she’d seen in his records and what she’d heard from Louie with the boy she’d known last week, much less the person she was seeing now?
He laughed again, and Lois realized that her throat was suddenly dry and her chest felt tight. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her; she felt a little dizzy.
He looked up and his eyes met hers across the room. His smile widened.
Lois forced herself to smile back, even though her heart was racing in her chest. Her hands were trembling. What was wrong with her?
Why did he suddenly seem ten times as handsome as he had before? It felt like her world was tilting on its axis and she didn’t know what to do.
