While I'm waiting for the sequel to The Hottest Team in Town to jell, I started to work on this story that has been cooking in my mind for a while. I hope you like it. Comments and constructive criticism welcome.
Disclaimer: The familiar characters and settings in this story are not mine. They are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions and whoever else can legally claim them. I am not making any profit from this venture into the world of Lois and Clark. Parts of story contain portions of scenes from the Lois and Clark script, "The Foundling" and those parts are hereby credited to the writers of that episode of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. Any new characters, scenes, dialogue and the story itself belong to me.
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Second Choice: 1/?
By Nan Smith
Clark Kent hurried out the door of his Algebra class. It was the end of sixth period and school was out. If he hurried, he'd get a chance to talk to her before she caught her ride with Ronnie Davis again.
He left the building through a side exit and took advantage of his speed to make it around the building and to the front gate before she could possibly get there. Then he spent the next ten minutes wondering where she was. She had been waiting here for her ride every day for the past three days and now, the day he needed to talk to her, she wasn't here.
She'd been at school today. He'd seen her a couple of times, passing between classes, but it seemed as if she'd been avoiding him, which had bothered him. They'd been good friends since the early summer when her mother had suddenly moved into an apartment in town, bringing her two daughters with her. She'd been nearly sixteen and the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life. They had met at Maisie's Diner, when he'd seen her sitting in a corner by the old fashioned jukebox, sipping a milkshake and watching the crowd of local kids chattering and laughing at the big table in the center of the room. He'd watched her surreptitiously for almost an hour until she'd gotten up to leave, wishing he dared to go over and introduce himself. And then Pete Ross had saved the day completely by accident. He'd been crossing the room with a tray of hamburgers and fries and hadn't seen her coming. He'd bumped into her and, in his effort to save the tray of food, managed to knock the girl's purse to the floor.
Clark reached out, steadying the tray for the critical instant that it took Pete to regain his balance and then turned and bent quickly to rescue the small purse. He'd straightened up to face the slightly flustered girl. "Sorry for my clumsy friend. Are you all right, Miss?"
She'd nodded and accepted the purse. "Thanks," was all she'd said, but her voice seemed to vibrate along every nerve ending in his body.
"No problem," he said. "I haven't seen you before. Just passing through?"
She'd shaken her head. "We're new here," she said. "Mom and my sister and me."
"Oh." He'd extended a hand. "Well, welcome to Smallville. I'm Clark Kent."
"Lois Lane," she'd told him.
"Nice to meet you, Lois," he'd said. "Since we're going to be neighbors, would you like to join us?" He'd had no idea why he asked. His voice seemed to have taken on a life of its own.
She smiled a little but shook her head. "I have to get home," she told him. "Mother's probably going to ... wonder where I've been."
He'd been conscious of a sense of disappointment but it would have looked strange if he'd tried to change her mind. Instead, he'd smiled at her. "Okay. I guess I'll see you around town, then."
It had been a simple enough meeting but it had been the beginning of the biggest change in his life since he had seen his parents killed at the age of ten.
Of course Lana hadn't missed the short exchange and he'd braced himself for the inevitable interrogation that followed. It came the instant the door closed behind Lois Lane.
"Who was that girl, Clark?" Lana's sharp voice had cut across the sounds of conversation around the table.
"Just a girl." For some reason, Clark had felt slightly defensive -- but he often felt that way these days. Lana was the head cheerleader for the Smallville Stingrays, Smallville High's football team, and one of the social leaders on campus, and she had been his friend since they had been about five or six. She always had a swarm of boys hanging around her but she recently seemed to be trying to separate him from the herd and mark him as her own special possession. At first it had been flattering but this time the implied ownership was an irritant. Lana had no real right to question him about people that he spoke to in passing. It wasn't as if they were going steady or anything.
"Where did you meet her?" Lana persisted. Clark took a deep breath and mastered his irritation. Pete, he'd noticed, had rejoined the crowd at the table and was distributing the food but he was also studiously *not* looking at Clark and Lana.
"I met her here, just now," Clark said, trying to soothe Lana's bristles. "Pete knocked her purse out of her hand. It would have been rude not to have helped her."
"I've told you over and over that you're too polite," Lana said. "It wouldn't have hurt her to pick up her own purse."
"No," he answered as mildly as possible, "but that isn't the way my parents taught me to behave."
They'd locked eyes and he saw Lana close her lips firmly together. He was probably in for a lecture later, he thought, but maybe he could disappear for a while and give her time to get over her annoyance -- although lately Lana hadn't seemed so willing to let things lie. Clark didn't want to fight and he didn't want to lose her as a friend, which meant he'd probably have to listen to a monologue from her later, saying nothing to defend himself. Eventually, she would wind down and, if not exactly give up on the subject, at least she wouldn't mention it more than once or twice a day for a week or two. After all, things could be much worse than they were -- at least that was what Lana told him. He hadn't argued. Ever since Jonathan and Martha Kent had died in that car accident, he'd been bouncing around in foster homes of one kind or another. Some had been good ones, some hadn't. The current one was the home of Wayne Irig and his wife, Nettie. They'd been friends of his parents years ago and he'd felt more at home with them than he had with most of the others. Wayne wasn't much of a talker but he and Clark had spoken a little of Clark's plans after Smallville High. He had been thinking hard about what he was going to do with his life as an adult, and his plans didn't include sticking around Smallville, at least initially.
This fall would be his senior year and in February he would turn eighteen, which meant that the local Social Services would have no more say in his living arrangements or in his life. He'd been working as hard as he could to qualify for scholarships at Midwest State University and it looked as if his efforts might be paying off in the near future. He'd held an "A" average for his first three years at Smallville High and he had every intention of doing the same in his upcoming senior year. It really wasn't that hard, and he often wondered why it seemed to be so difficult for other students in his classes. And then, if things worked out right, he was headed for Midwest State to study journalism. His mother and father had told him often enough that a college education might not be absolutely necessary for his life as an adult but it sure smoothed the road. His mother had held a bachelor's degree in English, he had discovered a couple of years ago while secretly going through their things in the attic of the old farmhouse, and Jonathan Kent had attended two years at Midwest Junior College. They'd always wanted the best for him and if they said he should go to college, then he'd do his best to follow their wishes.
And he was *not* going to put the old farmhouse and the land, as Lana's father had urged him to do, up for sale. It was the home where he had spent the first ten years of his life and the ten happiest years as well. Some day he might change his mind but he wouldn't allow anyone to pressure him into doing something that he might regret.
It had turned out, much to Clark's surprise, that the house had been paid off some years ago and Jonathan and Martha had made arrangements to have the property taxes automatically paid through some kind of fund in Clark's name, in case something happened to them before he had reached the age of eighteen. They had left the power of attorney in the hands of Wayne Irig, and Wayne had told him of it when he'd mentioned Lewis Lang's advice.
"I've managed it all these years for you," Wayne had told him. "If you want to sell it I'll do it but do you think Martha and Jonathan would want you to?"
"I don't know," Clark had answered, "but I don't want to. At least not yet."
"Well, you can't sell it without my signature until you're twenty-one," Wayne had said shortly. "If he keeps after you, send him to me. Did you know that he's invested in real estate? Made a lot of his money buyin' and sellin' houses -- flippin' 'em, it's called. He wouldn't cheat you -- Lewis is honest, but you have to watch him. I'd get advice from somebody who doesn't have an interest in it 'f I were you."
"I will," Clark had said. The thought that Lana's father might have an interest in his parents’ home just for the money involved made his stomach feel a little funny, but the next time Lewis Lang had mentioned it, Clark had followed Irig's advice. Somehow, the subject hadn't come up since.
The Langs had been friends of his since he could remember but it was things like that that made him glad that he hadn't told them about the strange things that were happening to him. His mother and dad would have known what to do but he didn't. He always felt at a disadvantage with Lana's incredibly suave and polished father. And now Lana was acting as if he were somehow her property. It was just as well, he thought, that he hadn't mentioned his plans to anyone but Wayne Irig, and Wayne wasn't one to gossip.
Only -- He glanced in the direction that Lois Lane had gone. He found himself wishing that Lana had not been here to see the little chance meeting.
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Clark fidgeted as students emerged from the school in chattering clumps, some heading for the bus stop where Smallville's one school bus waited patiently for them. Others drifted away, starting out on their walk home or stopping to talk with their friends. Lois still hadn't shown up and he was getting worried. He supposed he could drop by her mother's apartment and look to see if she was there. He doubted that she'd left early, though. Lois was a hard worker, and her grades were as good as his. He'd seen her name on the "A" honor roll three times this year and fully expected to see it there again next week after finals.
He'd run into her again a couple of days after their first meeting at Maisie's and fortunately the next time Lana hadn't been anywhere around. Clark had been leaving football practice -- the Stingrays practiced twice a week even during the summer, in order to be in shape when the school year started again, and Clark never missed a session. He'd been headed home when he'd encountered Lois Lane and a younger girl who resembled her a good deal as they emerged from the Smallville Market each with a bag of groceries.
"Hi," he said.
"Oh ... hi." Lois smiled faintly at him. "...Clark, right?"
"Clark Kent," he said.
"I remember. This is my sister, Lucy."
"Pleased to meet you," he said, automatically.
Lois's sister must be in the neighborhood of three or four years younger than Lois. She smiled at him and batted her brown eyes. "Hi."
"Hi," Clark said. "Shopping for dinner?"
Lois nodded without answering. Clark eyed the bag that she was clutching against her and decided that she was carrying the lion's share of the groceries.
"Let me help you," he said, quickly. "Do you have a car around here?"
Lois had shaken her head. "We're only going about a block. We live in the Sun Crest Apartments."
"Oh," Clark said. He intercepted the can that tried to fall out of Lucy's bag. "At least let me carry the milk for you." He reached for the carton that was tipping perilously from the top of Lois's bag and caught it as it overbalanced. The bag itself looked as if it were in danger of ripping wide open at any second.
"That's all right," Lois said hastily. "We'll be fine."
Clark smiled at her. "You're going to ruin my reputation," he told her. "I'm supposed to be the town good guy. Let me help." He'd taken the bag out of her arms as he spoke and handed her the milk. "It won't hurt if I help you carry these home."
"Well -- okay." Lois seemed to him to be a little reluctant but at the moment didn't want to make an issue of it.
"Lead the way," Clark said. Lois glanced at him and then -- still reluctantly, it seemed -- obeyed.
The Sun Crest Apartments were a little more than a block from the Smallville Market and he'd followed Lois up the steps to Apartment 2C. At the door she paused, inserted her key into the lock, turned it and reached out to reclaim the bag he carried. "Thanks for the help," she told him.
He relinquished the bag to her. "You're welcome," he said. He could hear her heart beating twice as fast as normal. "If you -- if you ever need any help, you can always ask me, you know."
She had smiled at him a little oddly. "I'll remember that." She pushed open the door and gestured her younger sister ahead of her. She'd given him another smile and followed Lucy. The door closed.
Clark stood for a moment, frowning, and then did what he'd told himself he shouldn't do. He called it x-ray vision since it allowed him to see through just about anything, and this time he trained it on the door of the apartment and strained his enhanced hearing to hear the voices inside.
At once he heard Lois's voice. "You'd better check on Mother," she told her sister. "I'll put the stuff away."
Lucy set down her small bag of groceries and left the kitchen. Curious, Clark followed her with his hearing and special vision.
A blond woman was sprawled on the sofa in the living room, a bottle that had contained vodka, he thought, lying on its side on the floor. And with that, Lois's reticence and reluctance to let him help her became clear. Clark grimaced slightly. Lois's mother had been drinking. It seemed likely that if the girls were going to eat dinner tonight, it would be Lois who cooked.
He paused for another moment, watching Lois as she began to empty the bags. It seemed that dinner tonight was going to be ham sandwiches.
Quietly, he turned and descended the short flight of stairs to the street.
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tbc
