Thank you, Carol!!
From Chapter 44
“Lastly, Lois Lane,” he said, and I glanced at Lois to see her pale. I felt a bit pale as well. “Lastly, Lois Lane,” he had said. So, Lois had gotten the internship. I wasn't surprised at that, but I hadn't even warranted a mention? I had thought I had pulled through in the end and written a decent article. Forget the nausea I'd been feeling for the past two weeks, I really thought I might throw up now. This was it. It was over. I hadn't gotten the internship, or even a notice. Despite my recommendation, and the article I had in the Planet last semester, Mr. White was so under-impressed with my showing for the application he hadn't even mentioned my name.
I should just give up now. That glacier living idea was getting more appealing by the second.
Chapter 45
“Miss Lane, you obviously came highly recommended. And I saw the articles you had written for Professor Matthews' and Professor Halkuff's classes, so I knew how well deserved that recommendation was. Still, despite this, I was very surprised by the raw talent shown in your submission.
“Your article on professor assisted cheating for the football players here at Metropolis University showcased crisp, entertaining writing, and the effort you went through to investigate the matter thoroughly was clear. It was a well researched story and one of the best submission articles I've ever received.”
“Thank you,” Lois said quietly, blushing furiously.
“So what happened to Kent's article?” Alan Mandell asked. It was a bit surprising to me how many people knew me. I had spoken to Alan once the whole year. Without my extra powered memory, I don't think there was any chance I'd remember his name.
“I was getting to that,” Mr. White said kindly, but something in his tone made it clear he did not like being interrupted. “Miss Lane's article was one of the best submission articles I've ever seen, but it was not the best.
“I'm sure Professor Halkuff mentioned to you that what I'm looking for mostly in these submissions is a nose for news. All of the articles I just mentioned reported on noteworthy stories. And there were several other submissions that also fit that criteria.
“But Mr. Kent's story stood out as one that was not an obvious news story. He saw what must have seemed to most people to be random human interest stories in other papers, and found a common link that suggested there was more to it than that. He then did extensive research with eye witnesses around the world to gather more evidence that the link existed.”
“What was it? Was it real?” Lois asked, and now she sounded nauseous. Personally, I felt numb.
“I'm not sure it's real,” Mr. White said. “Frankly, I doubt it. Mr. Kent's article was on an American boy who dresses in black and volunteers at natural disasters around the world. I'm not really sure there is any rational explanation for how he would travel from place to place like that unless he was causing the disasters. So my guess is that it is just a coincidence, at best an organized attempt to help by several American boys, most likely a coincidence.
“But the article was impressive despite this. As I read it, I found myself considering that maybe it was real. Mr. Kent's article was well written enough to be nearly credible even to me – and I'm a hard sell. And more importantly, he showed a talent for looking beyond the obvious for story ideas, for finding common links that the average reporter doesn't see.”
“So, Clark has the internship,” Lois said, looking like she couldn't decide if she wanted to cry, throw up, or pass out.
“Yes,” Mr. White said simply. “Congratulations, Mr. Kent. I told you in the fall that you would need to show something more than you showed in the medical school article to get a spot on the paper this summer, and you rose to the challenge. I am proud to include you as part of the Planet team this summer.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, my throat dry.
“Congratulations, Clark,” Professor Halkuff said, as Mr. White walked out the door, and she made a somewhat half hearted attempt to finish out the hour with the typical classroom discussion. Everyone was too busy talking about the internship, though, and she gave up after a few minutes.
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“Way to go, Clark,” Alan said as he passed me on his way out.
I nodded, still feeling a bit shell shocked.
“You did it,” Cat smiled at me. “I'm proud of you.”
“Hey.” I reminded her, “Mr. White was impressed by you, too.”
“Yeah, that was better than I expected. I didn't expect to even compare to you or Lois.”
“The angels!” Lois exploded behind us, and we turned around. “The ones Chris read about in the Star. You basically ripped off a Star article,” she said, her eyes flashing at me.
“That's not fair,” I said. I could feel myself working up to argue with her. Why was I doing that? I should be diffusing the argument so I could talk to her. Tell her the truth like I had planned before Mr. White walked in. Somehow, though, seeing her like this was making me want to argue with her, not explain myself to her.
“It's not?” She challenged me.
“No. The Star article just mentioned that a bunch of people thought they were helped by an angel one night. I connected it to the other sightings and suggested it was all one boy. I used the Star article as well as several others, but the link I wrote about didn't exist anywhere else.”
Lois' narrowed her eyes at me. “I know you, Clark Kent. I'm not sure how, but I get the feeling you cheated on this. How did you interview all those people around the world anyway?”
“I called them,” I said simply.
“What? There's a phone book for people who think they've been saved by an angel?” she asked, her tone more biting than it ever had been back when we first met.
“It's called investigating, Lois,” Cat cut in. “I didn't realize you'd be this petty. Clark won the internship fair and square.”
Lois gave her a look that made it clear she did not appreciate Cat's butting in to our argument, but then turned to me without a word to Cat. “This isn't over, Clark. I wanted that internship more than anything. I would happily step aside if I thought you won it fair and square, but I don't. I'm going to figure out how you did this, and expose you for the cheater that you are.”
Just when I thought the nausea had subsided…
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I put off flying home to tell Mom and Dad the news as long as possible. I had managed to get out of telling them the topic of my article when I thought of it by claiming, honestly, that I desperately needed to get cracking on it, and flying off to Metropolis.
Since then, I had kept conversations with them brief, and steered them as far away as possible from the Planet internship. I knew I'd need to come clean eventually, but I thought when I lost the internship anyway, maybe they'd feel too badly for me to ream me out appropriately. Or when I won, they'd be too happy to remember to be angry.
Fat chance. My parents were supportive, but they were still parents.
I landed in the cornfields with a copy of the article in hand. I thought it might help diffuse things slightly if they could see what I wrote, rather than guessing and assuming the worst. Still procrastinating, I took a jog through the fields. They were sparse this time of year, although Dad had seeded a few weeks ago now.
Finally, knowing I couldn't put it off forever, I made my way to the farm house. I could only hope they were only angry, and not disappointed in me. Not that I wouldn't deserve it if they were, but disappointment was so much harder to take.
“Clark!” Mom said warmly when I let myself in. It was just past dinner, and she was at the sink washing dishes. “We didn't expect you. To be honest, your dad and I thought you might be avoiding us recently.”
I looked at the ground, ashamed of myself. “I was, sort of,” I mumbled.
Mom shut off the water. “What?” she asked, giving me her full attention. “I couldn't hear you over the water.”
“I said, "I was', I told her.
“Clark Jerome Kent! What are you up to? You only mumble when you've done something wrong!” Her tone was sharp and very mom-ish.
“Clark, you're here,” Dad said as he came in from the living room. “Your mother and I thought you were avoiding us.”
“He was,” Mom told him. “Or at least, I think that's what he said. It was hard to tell, though, as he was mumbling.”
Okay, Mom was already pretty upset, and I hadn't even told them what I'd done yet.
“Mumbling, huh?” Dad said with a smile. It nearly broke my heart how my dad was under the impression I could do no wrong. I knew I was about to break that illusion into a thousand miniscule pieces in a few minutes. “What'd you do?”
“I got the internship at the Planet,” I said, trying, unsuccessfully, not to mumble. Mom was right – I did mumble when I felt guilty about doing something wrong, and it seemed unconscious at times. I didn't want to mumble, but it was so hard to speak out and say what I was thinking when I knew I had screwed up so badly.
“That's wonderful, Clark,” Dad said, coming over and giving me a hug. I noticed Mom held back. No surprise there. “I knew you'd think of something and pull through in the end. This is great news!”
Mom looked at me suspiciously for a moment, but then smiled. “It is good news, Clark. I'm so happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“So what's going on?” Mom asked. “What's wrong?”
“I thought I should maybe…” I paused while I tried to think of the right words to say. Maybe I should have practiced this little speech before I came out here. “I wanted…” I paused again, taking a deep breath before blurting out, “I needed to tell you what my article was about "cause I wrote about the Boy in Black.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment before Dad, looking at my quizzically, asked, “Did you say something about the Boy in Black?”
I nodded. “That was what…” I couldn't do it again. It was too hard to say the first time.
“That was what your article was about?” Mom asked. She sounded calm, but I could see the redness in her cheeks growing – a tell tale sign that she was not happy.
I nodded, thrusting the article forward until Dad took it. Mom moved to stand behind him and read over his shoulder. After a few moments of silence, the sponge she had still been holding from doing the dishes fell out of her hand and landed on Dad's foot. Neither of them seemed to notice.
When Mom finished the article, she looked up at me, her eyes covered with tears. Uh huh. Disappointment in its purest form.
“Why?” she asked me, and Dad who finished reading just seconds after Mom did, looked up at me confused.
“I just…” I floundered. I didn't really have a good excuse, did I? I had known that this was a bad idea – I had known when I first thought of it. Still, though, I had thought we'd find a way out of it. Looking at their faces now, though, I realized how much bigger this mistake was than I had originally been thinking. I wasn't sure I had ever screwed up this badly before. “I just wanted the internship so much, and I didn't have a topic…” I started. Mom's eyes got wide, and I realized I was rambling. I wasn't a rambler generally, but I could have beaten Lois in a rambling contest with the speed of those words.
“I needed a topic idea,” I finally finished lamely.
“But this one?” Mom asked. “This nearly exposes you, Clark. No normal human could be at all of these disasters, and yet you suggest it's one person. What explanation would there be aside from a boy who can fly?”
“Maybe no one will think of it,” I suggested.
“Oh honey,” Mom said, sitting down on a kitchen chair. Dad still hadn't said a word and was staring at Mom, clearly hoping she would be able to carry this conversation. “Clark,” she said, sighing, and holding her hand out to me. I took it, and sat beside her. Wordlessly, Dad took the seat on her other side. “No one will think of it, Clark,” Mom said. “Who would consider that the boy you describe here could fly?
“Up until writing this article, you've always been so good at hiding yourself. You've done nothing on any of these rescues that speak to who you really are. And if you've done nothing else that's "super', or whatever you're calling it these days, no one is going to assume you can fly.
“And still, writing this article was a foolish thing to do. Because there is either no story here, or at least not a big one. I can't believe you got the internship based on this article unless Perry White does think the Boy in Black can fly.”
“He doesn't,” I rushed to reassure her. “He just… he said he was impressed with my ability to see a story in seemingly random, non-important articles. It showed I have a nose for news.”
Mom gave me a look that let me know she wasn't happy with that. “So you beat out other people because Mr. White thinks you have a knack for seeing things that others can't? Isn't that a little unfair?”
“No,” I started to say, but Mom gave me a stern look. “Well, maybe…”
“Maybe?” Dad finally spoke up. “Maybe the fact that you saw something other people didn't wasn't because those articles were about you?” he asked.
“Well, no,” I admitted.
“Then you didn't win the internship fairly, Clark,” Mom said. Her tone was compassionate, and yet I could still sense the disappointment in her eyes. “Other people, like Lois, for example, also wanted this internship badly. The only reason Lois lost was because she didn't cheat. She could have written an article that seemed better researched if she'd written about Paul, couldn't she have?”
I flushed as I realized how right she was. “So, I should tell Mr. White that I don't want the internship after all,” I mumbled. Only this time my mumbling was as I was disappointed. I didn't want to give up the internship.
“No!” Dad said sharply. “I mean, by all rights, yes, that is precisely what you should do. What you deserve. But you can't.”
“I can't?”
“No,” Mom said. “Because if you do, you risk making Mr. White suspicious about why you would do that. And I don't think it's the best idea to have the most prominent man in print journalism having any suspicions about you at all. Especially when you handed him evidence to get him started on an investigation if he wanted to.” Mom pointed at my article still sitting on the table.
“I don't think Mr. White would investigate me,” I said. I just couldn't imagine that my turning down the internship would kick off a full scale investigation.
“Probably not,” Dad said, “but is that a chance you're willing to take? Do you realize what would happen if he did and found out the truth?”
“I'd be dissected like a frog,” I said. It was what Dad had been saying for years now.
“And your mother and I would never have any kind of normal life again,” Dad pointed out. I flushed even deeper. I hadn't seriously considered that. It wasn't that I didn't know that this secret affected Mom and Dad as much as me, but when I made the decision to write the internship article on it, I just… I guess I just didn't think at all. I was completely selfish – I saw it as a way to win what I wanted without thinking at all about the consequences – about the fact that if it worked, I would have won unfairly, about the impact it could have on Mom and Dad. I had thought of no one but myself.
“I'm sorry,” I said softly. “I know I've never screwed up this badly before.”
“No, you haven't,” Dad agreed. “Thank goodness.”
“So, what do I do?” I asked them.
“Nothing,” Mom said. “Sometimes you need to live with the consequences of your actions. In this case, the consequences are that you're made a mess you can't fix. You are going to have to live with the fact that you potentially, probably, stole the internship from Lois, because the consequences of fixing that are too great.”
“But that could impact her entire life,” I pointed out.
“You should have thought of that before you did this,” Dad said. “Maybe what you should be doing now is thinking of a way to make it up to her.”
“And before you think of it – giving her the full, unedited story of the Boy in Black to submit to Mr. White is not it!” Mom said.
I wanted to tell her that I knew that – I knew I couldn't write any more articles about myself. I had to admit though, I knew I deserved that. I'm sure up until a few minutes ago, my parents thought I knew enough not to write about myself at all.
“So, what do I do?” I asked. “How do I make it up to her?”
“I don't think that's a question that can be easily answered,” Mom said. “It's going to take some thought. A lot of thought.”
I nodded my head. I had potentially ruined Lois' life as I was selfish. How could I ever make that up to her?
