Link to TOC From
Part 23:
“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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Part 24“—which means that, under the right set of conditions, the elements in the meteorite could explode! Susanne concluded that a forceful enough impact could trigger the reaction.”
Clark glowered into his coffee mug. “Good to know.”
Michel shot him the dirtiest look he could muster, but it dissolved at the sound of Mrs. Kent's laughter. With an indignant sniff, he reached for another slice of the apple pie that now dominated the table.
“This Susanne sounds like quite a gal,” Mr. Kent replied, leaning back with his mug of coffee.
Michel nodded. “She is astounding! Her analysis of the meteorite was so thorough, that she found a trace element which even I had overlooked!”
“The one that turns red when exposed to air?” Mrs. Kent scooped some whipped cream onto her dish and nudged the remaining bowl across the table toward Michel.
He smiled, adding a dollop of the offered sweetness to his own plate. “Yes, that one. I wish...” Michel froze, the spoon still hanging in mid-air. He wished his own parents could be like this. He wished he could talk to them about the meteorite, or Krypton, or even *Clark* without their paranoia snuffing out the entire conversation. “I...er, wish that meteorite was back, so we could study it further.” He set the spoon back in the bowl, acutely aware that Clark was staring at him.
Mrs. Kent reached over the table to pat his arm. “Oh, Honey. I'm sure it'll turn up.”
He could still feel Clark staring at him.
Mr. Kent took another sip of his coffee. “Maybe we could poke around in Shuster's field; see if there are any other pieces that landed.”
Clark was still staring at him.
“Perhaps,” Michel mumbled, idly poking at his pie with his fork.
“Michel?” he heard Clark whisper.
“Yes?” Michel turned to look at him.
“I'm so sorry,” Clark said quietly. Only...his lips hadn't moved.
Michel's fork dropped to his plate with a clatter. “How did you do that?!” he demanded.
Clark gave a sheepish smile. “It's a little hard to explain,” he said aloud. “But, just now, when you were thinking about...” He glanced at his parents briefly before returning his gaze to Michel. “...things...I, uh, picked up on it, and...”
“And?!” Michel pressed, his patience thinner than a thread.
“And I could also sense what you were feeling,” Clark continued. He paused, seeming to think for a moment. “It wasn't the first time I picked up on your feelings, but before, I always just kind of wrote it off. So, this time...” He paused again.
“This time...?” Michel prompted, ignoring the giggle from across the table.
“I kind of...” Another infuriating pause. “...followed them.”
Michel stared blankly at Clark. “Followed them?” he echoed. “You...what, 'followed my feelings'?”
Clark nodded.
“What does that even mean?!” Michel demanded.
Clark shrugged. “I said it was hard to explain,” he pointed out.
Michel resisted the urge to grab Clark by the lapels and shake him. “Try.”
“Well...” Clark frowned, one finger tapping rhythmically against the table top as his forehead scrunched in thought. “It's kind of like when...well, actually, it's...” He sighed. “Okay, how about if I project a feeling really hard, and you pick up on it and see for yourself what I mean about following it?”
He nodded. “All right.”
They closed their eyes.
Michel waited.
Several minutes passed.
“I am not sensing anything!” Michel lamented. He opened his eyes, sighing in frustration.
“Really?” Clark's eyebrows raised. “Not even a twinge? That football game was one of the best moments of my life!”
He folded his arms. “No, I did not feel a 'twinge', and that sport is not true football, anyway!” A clock in the living room chimed the hour, and Michel sighed.
“It's getting late,” Clark noted. He looked at his parents. “You guys need your sleep.”
Clark rose from his seat, and Michel reluctantly followed. He'd been so looking forward to solving this puzzle once and for all, tonight...
“I think we made great progress,” Clark's voice whispered, and Michel now realized that he was hearing it inside his own head.
Michel folded his arms. “Now you are just showing off!”
Clark grinned at him. “Relax, Michel. We've got tomorrow, and the next day, and the rest of our lives to figure everything out; it's not the end of the world.”
TBC...
