Story ToC Part 23**********
It didn't take much to persuade the Kents to help them. Michel couldn't help but feel a little envious as Clark's father pulled two chairs out from the kitchen table and placed them back to back, while his mother darted upstairs to fetch a deck of cards. His own mother would probably be having a conniption at the implications of someone being able to read his mind...not that he was exactly comfortable with some of those implications, himself.
Upon her return, Mrs. Kent wasted no time in gently shoving each of them into a chair. “Now Clark,” she instructed, handing her son the deck, “you look at one of these cards and try to 'send' it to Michel with just your mind. Michel, you try to 'tune in' and see if you can pick up on which card he has.”
Michel nodded. It sounded simple enough.
The elder kents slid into the remaining seats at the other side of the table, watching them intently. He heard Clark shuffling the deck. Mr. Kent reached for his coffee cup and took a sip.
“Okay,” Clark announced. “Ready.”
Michel focused.
Nothing seemed to happen.
“Er, are you concentrating?” Michel asked, resisting the urge to turn around.
“Yes,” Clark answered from behind him. “Are you?”
“Boys!” Mrs. Kent chided. Beside her, her husband seemed to be hiding a grin behind his mug.
“Sorry,” he and Clark both muttered at once. Michel stared at the wall in front of him and tried to quiet his mind.
Still nothing.
He closed his eyes.
A clock in the living room chimed the hour.
Michel tried to imagine whatever walls were separating his mind from Clark's. He imagined lowering those walls, reaching out, finding Clark's thoughts.
At first, there was only blackness. Then, the blackness began to take shape...
“Six of clovers!” Michel shouted, practically jumping to his feet.
The elder Kents looked to Clark.
He grimaced, holding up the card. “Four of hearts.”
**********
Clark stared at the floor, trying to focus. Behind him, Michel sat concentrating on one of the fifty-two cards in his hand. At least, Clark hoped he was concentrating; he himself was having a hard time of it. Try as he might, all he could think of was the tiles on his own kitchen's floor. When was the last time he had cleaned the grout? Just how often did grout need to be cleaned, anyway? Weekly? Monthly? Yearly?
He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about tiles and start thinking about Michel's card. Nothing seemed to be coming to him, though. “Two of spades?” he finally guessed, turning around in his chair.
Michel shook his head and held up the card: eight of diamonds.
**********
Michel leaned back in his chair, letting his head rest against Clark's. Between the two of them, they had probably gone through half of the deck already! He closed his eyes, feeling the fatigue start to wash over him.
“This isn't working,” Clark muttered.
“Maybe not,” Michel conceded, “but what else can we do?”
He felt Clark's back stiffen. Suddenly, the head he was leaning against vanished, making him lose his balance slightly as Clark turned around in his seat. “What did you just say?!”
At the table, the Kents sat up straight, Mr. Kent blinking and rubbing his eyes.
Michel felt a prickle at the nape of his neck. “Did...did you not actually say that this was not working?”
“No,” Clark replied, his voice almost a whisper, “but I was thinking it!”
Mrs. Kent turned to her husband with an elated grin and squeezed his arm. Mr. Kent smiled at them. “So, can you tell us the card?”
Michel hesitated. “Er, the nine of hearts?”
Clark sighed. “Not even close.”
**********
“Is it the five of diamonds?” Clark leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and buried his head in his hands. “Six? Seven? Is the card at least red?”
“No, no, no, and no,” Michel replied from behind him, sounding just as exhausted as he felt.
“Hold on.” His mom stood up from the table, the sudden motion causing his father to startle awake and sit up in his chair. “I have an idea! Michel, cover your eyes.”
Michel obeyed.
She disappeared into the living room, only to return a few moments later with something in her hands.
“Clark, try to focus on this.” She held out a photograph.
Clark took it from her and looked it over. It was a picture they'd snapped of Lois during her brief stay in Smallville.
“A woman...” Michel suddenly murmured. “Passion...Ah! The Queen of Hearts! I did not 'hear' it, but I know it! It can be nothing else! Am I right?” He turned around in his chair and peered over Clark's shoulder. “Eh?!”
Clark turned the photo over and slumped in his seat, his face warm again. His mom didn't even try to hide her laughter, this time.
His dad stood and stretched. “Well, it looks like we made a little progress, at least.” He grabbed his empty mug off the table and plodded toward the sink. “Maybe now's a good time to take a break.”
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TBC...
