This story is complete with 4 parts (longer parts than my first story...I hope that makes my readers happy!
) I'll post every few days. Susan
Summary: The Smart Kids have grown into teenagers. What happens when one of them falls prey to addiction again?
Thanks to Carol Malo and Gerry Anklewicz for beta-reading this story and offering their invaluable advice.
I dedicate this story to the gifted and talented students at Vista Heights Middle School. Sometimes smart kids do stupid things.
SMART TEENS
By Susan Young (groobie@charter.net)
Rating: PG
Submitted: December 2005
* * * * * * * * * *
Phillip Manning was smart, and the people of Metropolis were stupid.
What else could explain the fact that, once again, people believed the lies that the Daily Planet was printing? Phillip flipped loudly through the paper, scanning for the shortest article available. He hated his history teacher for torturing him week after week with this asinine assignment. “Current events is the history of the future,” she loved to say. Screw her. He didn’t have a future anyway, and he hated thinking about his past.
Phillip cast his eye across the mailroom towards the pile of work he was intentionally ignoring. His job was just as stupid as his schoolwork. He reached into his desk to pull out a pair of scissors. Shredding dusty documents in this windowless room could wait until tomorrow; he had to finish his homework.
Not that he cared about passing his classes; if he had a choice, he would drop out of that high school filled with dim-witted losers who knew nothing worth knowing. But decent grades meant he was eligible for the work-study program that had bought him access to the mailroom at Star Labs. And that was worth everything.
He shook slightly, but willed himself to hold out just a little longer. He couldn’t get caught here; keeping his job was too important.
His eyes rested on a brief story about Superman’s latest heroic effort written, of course, by Clark Kent. ‘Gee, another quote from the big guy. How did he manage that?’ Phillip rolled his eyes. Were people really so blind? He cut the article out anyway and began filling in his form. He usually chose to do his reports on stories written by Mr. Kent, just as a way of keeping track of what he was up to. The information might be useful someday. Still, it irritated Phillip to know for a fact that Kent was a big, fat liar and had gotten away with it for so long.
The minor fibs like the ones in the current edition of the Daily Planet proved Clark Kent had a major character flaw. Clark was outside the bank while Superman freed the hostages. Clark was attending the press conference while Superman was giving the speech. Clark was writing his story while Superman happened to drop by with a few more details. Clark Kent was a habitual liar.
What really appalled Phillip, however, were the blatant deceptions the public at large swallowed like candy. He had been sure Clark was going to be busted two years ago when Diana Stride had set out to prove his real identity. But no; somehow, Mr. Kent had managed to project a hologram of Superman, and despite the totally obvious wobble, people bought it! A few days ago, again, he had been sure that Kent’s secret was done for when the Dirt Digger published a photo of Superman and Lois Lane in bed together. But people chose instead to accept a carefully worded statement filled with a bunch of b.s. about trust, honor, and truth. Unbelievable!
How could the world not know Clark Kent was Superman? Phillip let out a derisive snort. He’d known that since he was twelve.
Phillip sighed in relief as he glanced at the clock, noting his shift was finally over. It insulted his intelligence to get academic credit for opening letters, delivering mail, and sending old files through a shredder. He was convinced the school’s work-study program was little more than the business community’s way of getting free labor for menial tasks. The only reason he had signed up was because he had thought it would be better than being trapped inside a classroom, his ears assaulted with the droning of a teacher’s lecture. It hadn’t taken him long, though, to discover the true benefit of his job at Star Labs.
He dropped the scissors back into his desk and shoved the finished current event assignment into his bag, letting his fingers pass briefly over the small leather pouch contained within. Another brief shudder urged him to run, but control was imperative, and instead he walked slowly through the hallway, nodding goodbyes to coworkers who had never cared enough to learn more about him than his name. Freedom was a cool breeze on his face as he escaped the sterile building and headed for the closest dark corner. Ducking into an alley, Phillip slipped into a sheltered area behind a dumpster and sank to the ground. His eyes darted around to ensure his privacy as his hands fumbled to empty the contents of the pouch. Looking past the track mark scars, he found a vein and pressed the needle into his arm, using the plunger to flood his body with the drug.
A familiar rush glowed through his body. Phillip felt smart.
---&-&-&---
“All my toys are broken.” Mindy Church pouted.
It was all Superman’s fault. Once again, Metropolis’ resident superhero had butted his way into Intergang’s business. Sure, her hired help had messed up on their own, taking hostages at that bank when all they were supposed to do was steal the contents of one teensy-weensy safety deposit box, but they might have gotten the job done anyway if that chronic do-gooder had left them alone. If only there was a way to defeat him. But she had tried that before. Infecting him with that Kryptonian virus last year had been a brilliant idea, but somehow he had overcome his illness. She didn’t know how, though. Maybe he had help?
Her eye caught the edge of a gossip magazine and she pulled it to her, scanning the article she was interested in. Lois Lane was having an affair with Superman? Hmmm. The Daily Planet had proven the accompanying photo had been doctored, but did that necessarily prove that the story itself was untrue? Mindy laid the paper down and pulled out her manicure set, placing her feet onto her desk as she began to file her nails. It was a soothing habit, setting her mind at ease and opening it to possibilities. She often did her best work while preening herself. And if it added to her reputation as a vacuous bimbo, she was perfectly content - that strategy had taken her all the way to the top of one of the largest crime organizations in the world.
Mindy had lived in Metropolis long enough to see the connection between Lois and Superman. He had given Lois Lane an exclusive interview when he had appeared three years ago, and had continued to grant her a steady stream of quotes for her string of front-page articles. Whenever that nosy reporter poked her head into a life-threatening situation, Superman always seemed to pull her out. Plus, both of her Billys thought Lois could be used as a way to get to Superman. But did that mean they were just friends, or were they doing it? Was Lois the kind of person who would cheat on her husband, forsaking the sanctity of marriage?
A joyous peal of laughter rang through her office. Sanctity of marriage? Mindy loved it when she made herself laugh.
Her thoughts turned to Lois’ husband, her partner at the Daily Planet. Clark Kent was a little hottie, assuming someone was interested in the slightly geeky thing he had going on with those glasses. ‘It’s called laser eye surgery, people!’ She undressed him in her mind to imagine what Lois might see in him. While it might be fun to add him to her collection, Clark didn’t possess the things that appealed to her more than anything: money and power.
But Lois’ first fiancé had enjoyed plenty of both - Lex Luthor, the third richest man on the planet. Mindy smiled at the thought. Sexy Lexy. Oh how she wished she had been able to sink her teeth into that checkbook. Since Bill Church, Sr. was one of the richest men in Metropolis at the time, he had gotten an invitation to Lex and Lois’ wedding, and Mindy had joined him as his date. From the third row in the church, she had had an excellent view of that disaster. But what could have caused Lois to reject Lex at the altar? Had she found out he was a criminal?
‘Who cares?’ From Mindy’s point of view, rich criminals were the best men to marry - they tended to die or get thrown in jail. Either way, she didn’t have to sleep with them for very long. A bazillion dollars had slipped through that woman’s fingers! ‘Lois Lane is an idiot!’
That was probably the best evidence Mindy had to prove the affair rumors weren’t true. Lois was too stupid to know who was good for her. Whatever. Mindy had more important things to think about, like getting rid of Superman once and for all. ‘But I’m not in the mood for thinking right now.’ She needed a new toy. Mindy pressed a button, signaling a hunky blond bodybuilder to her office. She batted her eyelashes. “Make me not bored, Hans.”
---&-&-&---
“Oh Clark, that feels so good!”
Lois Lane sank into the pillows and basked in the pleasure her husband was offering. His large, warm hands kneaded her flesh, working the tension out of her muscles. Her shoulders relaxed, unburdened by the weight of the past week.
“My pleasure, as always.” Clark Kent smiled. He bent down to kiss her left cheek, tucking errant strands of hair behind her ear. It felt wonderful to share this moment with her, free from the pressures of the outside world. They’d need to be more careful in the future; he didn’t want to see their names in the paper any time soon. Unless, of course, it was as the co-authors of a Kerth award-winning story.
The scandal sparked by the photo of an intimate Lois and Superman had died down, and he no longer caught looks of sympathy on his colleagues’ faces. It had embarrassed him to play the part of cuckold, but there had been little choice. ‘Thank goodness that photo was fake.’ The thought provided him with little comfort, though; by all rights, it should have been real.
“Honey?” Lois brought Clark out of his musings. She rolled onto her back and beckoned him to lie beside her. “Hey, it’s over now. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I know, but I’m still a little on edge. When I think about all the people who suspect the truth…”
“But that’s all they can do. They don’t have any proof. And you’ll see - in a few weeks, no one’s even going to remember this story.” She tried to offer support by rubbing a soothing hand up and down his arm.
“I know. We just have to be more careful.” He changed gears, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re just so irresistible; it’s hard to stop myself from sweeping you off your feet whenever I see you.”
Lois beamed. “Yeah, well, save that for when Superman has to do it literally to bail me out in public. But I’ll take the metaphorical version in private any day.”
Clark waggled his eyes as a wicked gleam was mirrored in Lois’. His secret was safe for now. He turned his mind to more playful thoughts.
---&-&-&---
“I’m worried about Phillip.”
Aymee Valdes dropped her backpack to the ground as she sank onto the concrete step outside of her high school’s front entry. She had expected some of the day’s tension to drain from her as she met her friends in their usual after-school hangout, but found it still coiled within her.
“Here we go again.” Karen Sanchez pulled her arms from around her boyfriend’s neck and placed them behind her, leaning back as she looked upward.
Unwilling to break all contact, Dudley Nickolas snaked an arm around her waist as he looked towards Aymee. “Yeah, come on; give the guy a break.”
“Didn’t you two see him in class today? He was totally out of it!”
Karen voice dripped with sarcasm. “I obviously wasn’t watching him as closely as you were. What a surprise!”
Dudley quietly laughed and joined in. “Just get it over with already.”
Aymee’s hands went to her hips. “What?”
“Oh, come on. You’ve been in love with Phillip for years. Why don’t you just ask him out instead of obsessing about every little thing he does each day?” Karen slid one of her hands onto Dudley’s leg possessively before she continued. “It’s not like he already has a girlfriend.”
“I am not in love with him!” Aymee protested a little too loudly. “I care about him as a friend. We’ve all been friends for years and we’re supposed to look out for each other. And if you cared about him at all, you’d help me figure out what’s wrong with him.”
“Fine,” Dudley said. “Maybe he’s been a little moody lately. But that’s not really new; I mean, he’s been like that for as long as I’ve known him.”
“I guess he hasn’t been hanging around us as much lately,” Karen said. “He’s probably just busy. He’s been putting in a lot of hours for his work-study program.”
Aymee analyzed that observation. “You know, I think Phillip started acting a little strangely about a week after he got that job. Do you think someone there found out about us?”
Dudley and Karen looked at each other and considered the possibility. Dudley shrugged and softened his voice. “Maybe she’s right. He’s always had the hardest time covering up how smart he is. If anyone realized how much we remember, we could be in a lot of trouble.”
Their collective past was a subject the friends rarely mentioned. After the experiments with Mentamide 5 had ended, the former “Smart Kids” had no longer been able to think with the extraordinary artificial capacity of their drug-laden brains. But that hadn’t meant they were stupid, either. The four of them had been gifted students long before the Smart Stuff had entered their systems, not that anyone at the Beckworth State School seemed to care. They had been labeled “problem kids,” and that’s all that most adults ever bothered to see in them. People had assumed since they were no longer taking the drugs, they had gone back to “normal,” whatever that was. But in whispered conversations, the foursome had come to realize that they all still harbored secrets in their memories, mental hard drives filled with answers to unasked questions. Such knowledge could be dangerous in the wrong hands. The kids had quickly decided not to challenge conventional wisdom; it was safer to keep their thoughts to themselves.
A door slammed behind the group of friends and Phillip rushed past, offering a slight head nod and a brief, “Hey.” He turned to the left at the end of the stairs and started heading down the street. The threesome looked at each other, concern reflected in their faces. None could quite believe that Phillip hadn’t stopped.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Aymee said, gathering her things as Dudley and Karen wished her good luck. She gave a short wave and rushed to catch up.
---&-&-&---
“Phillip, wait!”
He cringed. ‘I don’t have time for this,’ Phillip thought. He had tried to slip past his former friends, but was hardly surprised that Aymee hadn’t accepted his non-verbal message. She was always butting into other people’s business, especially his. There had been a time that Phillip had liked Aymee’s attention, when he had smiled as she stared at him from across the classroom. But then she had turned into a traitor, just like Dudley and Karen. And Superman.
Friends were supposed to stick together. Phillip couldn’t stop his mind from flipping through a scrapbook of memories. They had banded together at Beckworth to create the family that each of them was lacking. They had escaped from the school together to stop Dr. Carlton from using them as lab rats. They had held onto each other as they suffered through the tremors of Mentamide withdrawal. Phillip silently berated himself for having naively believed their bond would never change.
But it had. Phillip was alone. ‘Nobody cares about me.’
Sure, the others still pretended they were his friends. Dudley and Karen still lived with him at Beckworth, but they were too absorbed with each other and spared little time for anyone else. Aymee and her sister Inez had gotten out of the place; their mom had gotten a job thanks to some obvious interference by Clark Kent, and now they were living in a nice apartment in a decent neighborhood.
Phillip soured at the thought of Clark Kent, the man who people in this city practically worshipped. He had been one of them three years ago. What child wouldn’t look up to a flying superhero and believe everything he said? Superman had made a noble speech to him about how it felt to be different, never quite fitting in. He had pretended concern, convincing Phillip to give up the drug and go back to being a kid. Nothing special. Phillip had grabbed onto Superman’s words as if he were a son reaching out to his father. Well, that analogy had proven all too true.
Just as his real father had abandoned him, Phillip hadn’t seen Clark Kent since that incident three years ago. No letter, no phone call, no e-mail, no visit; no contact of any kind. Kent had gotten his story and moved on to the next while Phillip was trapped in his meaningless existence. The man in disguise was no better. Superman routinely did charity work for groups around the city, but hadn’t once come to support Beckworth. Each year he played Santa for orphans at Christmas time, but never for the ones at Beckworth. Phillip brushed the beginning of an angry tear from his eye.
‘Helping the orphans at Christmas.’ Phillip let his brain work, waiting with anticipation to see where the thought would lead. Superman wasn’t the only famous figure that tossed a few scraps of compassion to the needy during the holidays. Last year, Mindy Church had made a big deal of throwing useless crap to the kids down at King’s Street.
The synthetic Mentamide 5 in his system assisted his mind in assembling scraps of information gathered through years of quiet observation, scanning through newspapers, and overhearing rumors on the street. At last, the pieces clicked. Mindy Church was rich. Mindy Church was the head of Intergang. Mindy Church could get everything he needed.
“Hey.” A small hand touched his arm to catch his attention.
Phillip breathed in impatiently and turned to Aymee, returning a curt, “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just, I thought maybe you’d want to talk.”
“Did I do anything to give you that impression?”
“Well, no.” Aymee tried a new approach. “Look, it just seems like something’s going on and I want to help.”
“I don’t need your help.” Phillip placed a look of fake contemplation on his face. “If I remember correctly, the last time I needed your help, you ended up betraying me to a couple of reporters.”
Aymee reeled back, truly shocked. “I didn’t betray you. You know I didn’t say a word to anyone until they told me about what the Smart Stuff was doing to us. It was going to kill us if we kept using it. I had to trust them. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”
“You should have trusted me.” Anger flashed in Phillip’s eyes before danger set in, and he leaned close to Aymee’s face. “Lois and Clark lied to you. Mentamide couldn’t have killed us; I fixed the flaw myself. If you had stuck by me, we could have had anything we wanted.” He backed away and gave half a laugh. “It’s my fault, too. I believed the wrong person.”
“What are you talking about? Phil, please, you’re kind of scaring me.”
Almost talking to himself, Phillip Manning came to a conclusion that had been gnawing at him for three long, painful years. “Lex Luthor said I was special, destined for greatness. He said everything was in my grasp: power, privilege, wealth. I should have listened to him. Lex Luthor was right.”
“No! Lex was crazy; he was a criminal.”
“Lex was smart. But I can be smarter.”
“You’re not serious. You can’t mean…”
Phillip turned away from Aymee and began to walk purposefully down the street. But he spared a second to look over his shoulder and took in the crushed face of his childhood friend. “If you’re smart, you’ll stay out of my way.”
* * * * * * * * * *
