Chapter Text
It was currently 6:32 am on the first day of Clara Kent’s last year of highschool. Her Mama had been up since about 5 am, doing various chores before starting on breakfast. Clara would bet that her Daddy was still out in the fields and hadn’t come in at all last night, as he was just finishing up the second harvest and was hoping to get a third one in before the frost set in.
(The neighbours all shook their heads, but Clara knew at least 2 of their neighbours had been out all night with her Daddy driving their own tractors and combines. Her and Mama had brought them all supper out to the fields last night, and they had brought them all snacks and coffee before Clara went to bed at 11 pm, without any signs of stopping.)
Normally, Clara would have been up and helping out her Mama, but Martha Kent always told her daughter to sleep in and not rush a few choice days a year. (First day of school, picture day, birthdays, and holidays.) Normally, Clara would try to help out anyways, especially since chores like feeding the animals or mucking out the stalls took no time at all for her. But, on this particular morning, she was unspeakably grateful, as Clara Kent was on the verge of a meltdown.
It started off with her hair being a frightful frizzy mess, and then she unnoticed the giant pimple that had appeared on her cheekbone overnight. Her concealer tube had dried out as it hadn't been closed properly, and then she had dropped her powder compact and shattered it. She had accidentally put on too much blush, her mascara was clumpy, and she couldn’t find the other half of her favourite earring pair. To top it all off, the dress she had bought just last week with Chloe and was planning to wear today suddenly didn’t fit anymore. She tore apart her room, flinging her clothes over every surface, as Clara came to a sudden soul crushing realization; she was a cow. Actually, she was worse than a cow, for surely Bessie Mae out in the barn would look better in every single piece of Clara Kent’s wardrobe than she did currently.
Eventually, Clara found a pale green checkered skirt that managed to make her look almost halfway like a human being, and grabbed a white turtleneck that wasn’t stained ( yet ) and a cream knit cardigan that must have belonged to her dad’s late mother or was picked up at a church rummage sale that surprisingly didn’t have a snag . (On the left breast it had an outdated Smallville Comprehensive High School mascot patch emblazoned with 1953.) She even managed to not cause a run in her stockings, which was a feat on a good day.
“Good morning Mama,” Clara said breathlessly as she finally made it down to the kitchen, and gave her mama a kiss on the cheek.
“Good morning Clara,” her mom said in return, turning from the stove to give her daughter a smile. “You’re running a little late today, and I could hear what sounded like a herd of horses running around in your room.”
“I know; I’ve had a horrible morning. Nothing has been going my way.” Clara grumbled as she stole some coffee and breakfast sausages. “Don’t go in my room today, please; I’ll clean it up when I get home.”
At that her mom paused from where she was finally sitting down with her own cup of coffee, having finally finished making breakfast and put it in the oven to keep warm for whenever the men came in. “Clara,” Martha started, with an increasingly warning tone to her voice. “I better not find a tornado in your room-”
“Mama, I’ve actually been having the worst start to my day. Please, you know I’ll clean up as soon as I get home.”
Martha tsked and took a long sip of her coffee. Eventually, she sighed, and acquiesced. “Fine, but you’re lucky your father is busy. You know we raised you to treat your things with-”
“Respect, yes Mama, I know .” Clara cut her off with a huff and a barely there roll of her eyes.
Martha did give a full roll of her eyes at her daughter's grouchiness, but she couldn’t help but hide a smile into her coffee cup. It was so rare for Clara to give any form of disrespect, and no doubt her daughter would be in near tears over it by the time she came home. When Abigail would complain about Pete, or the horror stories she would hear from Gabe about Chloe made her count her blessings again with how much she lucked out when it came to her daughter. (Martha very adamantly refused to reflect on her teenage self under threat of death, and for good reason.)
The two Kent women finished their coffee and breakfast in silence; porridge and coffee for Martha while her daughter ate her customary breakfast sausages smothered in syrup with a bowl of fruit alongside her own coffee.
Martha noticed the time and startled, before swiftly grabbing their ancient polaroid camera and telling Clara to hurry.
“Come, come! We have just enough time to take your picture!” Martha threw over her shoulder as she went out the side door connected to their kitchen. Clara groaned, but dutifully followed her mother out to their porch to take the customary first day of school picture.
“Fix yourself Clara; your slip is showing and you have lipstick on your teeth.”
Clara dutifully ran her tongue over her teeth as she wriggled and tugged on her slip, before she gave a bright smile and posed. After the first flash, Clara bent down to grab her old leather satchel and textbooks. “Mama, enough! You’re going to make me miss the bus!” the teeanger told her mother exasperated when she started to protest taking only a single photo.
Her mom had tears in her eyes, and suddenly pulled her daughter into a tight hug. “Oh, look at you! You’re all grown up, when did you get so big? I remember-”
“ Mama! The bus !” Clara pulled herself out of her mother’s arms with as much force as she dared, but it was to no avail. All she could do was watch in growing frustration as the bus continued on past her house, not even pausing.
“I’m sorry Clara. Actually, this works out perfectly; why don’t you bring the men some coffee and ask your dad for a ride? It’s about time they took a break. You’ll still be earlier than the bus, and your dad will get to see you. You remember how upset he was when he realized he’d have to miss your last first day.” Martha had brightened up considerably as she spoke, and went back to the kitchen with Clara following dutifully behind, and she had started filling up a thermos and assembling mugs, sugar, and cream in a bag before she had even finished speaking.
So, Clara found herself in the front seat of her daddy’s truck, finally heading towards school. The windows were rolled down, and there was a nice, cool breeze blowing in Clara’s face. The radio wasn’t playing, as it had broken almost five years ago and was never replaced. It was just the familiar rumble of the old engine, and the crunch of the tires as they drove over gravel roads. Birds were singing, and Clara tried to focus on them in an effort to give her dad some time to collect himself.
When she appeared in the field bearing coffee, everyone was ecstatic to see her, none more so than her own dad. He had stood there frowning, and gruffly agreed to drive her to school, squirting into the distance at the newly risen sun. Their neighbours didn’t even bother teasing him about the tears he was refusing to let spill over, or how he tried to hide the waver in his voice. They all just thanked Clara for the coffee, complimented how she looked, and wished her luck.
After all, there where 5 known truths about Jon Kent;
- He was incredibly proud, particularly about his farm and his family.
- He had a preternatural talent when it came to animals or crops
- He had incredibly bad luck with literally anything that wasn’t growing a plant, taking care of his animals, or his wife and daughter.
- He was fiercely devoted to his wife, and she was the center of his universe
- His daughter, though, was his reason for living. Never before had anyone seen a man so fiercely proud or devoted to his daughter.
So, it wasn’t a shock to anyone that today the mere sight of his daughter brought him to tears. In fact, his reaction was quite tame, as they had truthfully all prepared themselves for a much bigger reaction.
(Clara Kent’s future wedding was highly anticipated, solely to see how Jon would handle it.)
(This was the same man who was honestly a bit of an asshole in his youth; he never had a girlfriend, but he went on plenty of dates. He strung girls along ((Many at the same time)) and bullied all the boys who weren’t part of his football team. Yet this was also the same man who fifteen years later cancelled his traditional friday night beers with his friends so he could stay home and have tea parties with his daughter, learned to french braid hair, and most notably was banned from the Smallville Catholic Church Fourth of July parties after Stephen James tried to say Clara’s shorts were making him uncomfortable. He had almost beaten the man bloody, and it took 3 men to pull him off, all while Jon yelled about how Clara was only 8, and that he was a pervert and he never wanted to see him anywhere near his daughter or any other child again.)
Eventually, the two of them made it to school, and Jon parked the truck across the street.
“Thank you Daddy!” Clara was ready to jump out, when her father pulled her into a quick hug.
“I am so proud of you Clara.” Jon started speaking, his voice muffled into the thick mass of curly hair french braided on his daughter's head. “You’ve grown up into a beautiful, talented young woman, and I give thanks every day that I was lucky enough to become your father. If anyone gives you any trouble, or any boys come sniffing around who won’t take no for an answer, just let me know and I’ll come to you right away.”
Clara hugged her dad back, and Jon held on for just a second more, before releasing her and quickly looking away. He coughed a few times in an effort to control his voice, and then gruffly told her that she should head inside so she doesn't miss the bell.
She didn’t need to be told twice, and joined the hoard of teenagers making their way through the front doors.
Clara had just finished depositing all her textbooks, her packed lunch, and gym clothes in her locker, when the first school buses started pulling up. She stood by and leaned up against her locker, making sure that she didn’t accidentally get swept away by the hoard of teenagers who just arrived and only had 10 minutes before the First Day Assembly.
As they had for the past three years, Clara waited for Chloe to come to her locker, which was right beside Clara’s. (Smallville Comprehensive High School dealt with lockers by assigning the ninth graders each one alphabetically by first name, and then basically wiped their hands of the issue. The locker you received on your first day was the locker you had until you left.) Then, after Chloe would drop her bag off in her locker, she would send a text to Pete, who would usually already be in the gym and have saved them a spot. (Chloe had the coolest cellphone Clara had ever seen; it was a purple Motorola V70 flip phone with unlimited texts and local calls that she had gotten for her birthday last year. Clara, in contrast, had a simple black Nokia with a very limited text plan. The only unlimited thing she had was thoughts and prayers.)
“God, Clara.” came Chloe’s voice, as she shoved her way through the hallway, using her pointy elbows viciously. “How the hell did you get here before us?”
“Mama made me miss the bus, so Daddy gave me a ride.” Clara responded, shrugging a shoulder while trying to keep a smile from creeping onto her lips.
Chloe grumbled and whined under her breath, while throwing her stuff into her locker haphazardly. The only item she used care for was last year's pre-calc textbook, as she had been forced to redo it during summer school to keep up her 87% average. Her way of using care though was to make sure it was the last item to go into her locker, and she whipped it with force into the back of her locker, right under the top shelf. The textbook hit the back of the metal locker with a tremendous BANG, making everyone in a five foot radius jump. A few people turned just in time to see the poor textbook sadly land on top of the pile at the bottom of Chloe’s locker, making a sad little thwump noise.
(Chloe had a vicious look of glee on her face, as if that 20 year old textbook had personally offended her.)
(Knowing Chloe, there was a high likelihood that it probably had.)
“Ah, shit, come on. Pete’s waiting for us, and the warning bell is going to ring in like 3 minutes.” Chloe announced after checking her phone.
The two girls managed to sneak in right before the First Period bell rang, narrowly avoiding being locked out of the assembly. Pete had grabbed them seats near the middle, away from the EA’s standing guard along the first and last rows of the bleachers.
“Morning, Clara.” Pete said as he turned his knees to the side, letting Clara shuffle by him.
“Good morning Pete. How’s your day been so far?” Clara murmured as she settled down into her seat.
“It’s been ok, but it’s about to be better; did your dad give you a ride?”
Clara huffed and knocked her shoulder against his lightly. “Of course he did. Why?”
“ Because ,” Pete said, clapping his hands once before slapping his palm face up in Chloe’s lap, “Chloe here bet me $10 you’d be late.”
Clara’s face was the definition of being slightly offended. She didn’t even say a word before Chloe started trying to defend herself, whispering petulantly as the Principal started his ‘Welcome Back’ speech.
“You weren’t even outside! The bus flew by your house. Obviously I thought you’d have to walk or bike.”
“What? Why would those be my only two options?”
“Chloe, it’s been a year now and I still can’t understand why you keep betting against Jon Kent,” Pete interjected as Chloe puffed up. “You should know by now the lengths he’d go for his precious little ‘ Clare Bear ‘-“ Pete abruptly cut off, stopping the high pitched cutesy voice he was making due to Clara pinching his side hard. He muttered an apology to her, just as Chloe leant over, not letting Pete’s interruption stop her.
“I’m just saying, Clara is 17 and is in her last year of highschool. If I missed the bus, there’s no way in hell my dad would drive me.”
“Yeah, but you’re not Clara Kent, sole child of Jonathon Kent are you?” Pete asked, raising an eyebrow at Chloe in warning to drop it. Chloe leant back in a huff, and started texting furiously on her phone, no doubt complaining to her city friends. Clara gave Pete a small smile in thanks as she kind of curled up as best as she could, thankful that Pete was sitting between the two of them.
Chloe let out a low whistle. “Shit, 4 teachers gone? What do you think happened to them?”
“Didn’t you hear? Mrs. Matthewson went on mat leave.” Pete answered.
“Not only that,” Clara added her two cents in, “but I heard from Mrs. Watson last time I delivered baking that her husband isn’t the father; that her husband came home and caught the two of them. And that’s why he isn’t here either; that he had a mental breakdown.”
“Oh yeah, makes sense. I think I remember my mom mentioning he had a court date for a DUI. He totaled his car; someone had to drag him out of the fire and he had alcohol poisoning.” Pete added nonchalantly as he pulled apart a Red Vine.
“Jeses Pete,” Chloe said, scandalized, but with a huge grin. “What about you Clara? How’d Mrs. Matthewson know that?”
“Oh, her son- Michael, I think? Or maybe Christopher? Anyways, one of them is neighbour’s with them out in Barnwell. Was outside mowing his front grass when Mr. Matthewson came home.”
“Did you guys hear anything about Mr. Morris? Shit, I can’t believe he’s gone, he was the best.” Pete all but groaned. Clara and Chloe both let out identical gasps, faces lit up in unholy glee.
“Holy shit, Pete.” Chloe whispered, delighted. “You didn’t hear?”
“How could you not know this?” Clara asked, just as thrilled. “Literally everyone knows this. Or at least, all the girls do.”
“Know what?” Pete asked, wary. “It’s not my fault, I was busy training all summer.”
“Pete,” Clara said seriously, turning her body towards him. “You know I don’t like to gossip, but Mr. Morris was caught running around with Amber Bennett .”
“Amber Bennett?” Who’s Amber- no. ” Pete’s jaw almost hit the floor once he realized who they were talking about. “ Amber Bennett ? Senior Girls Volleyball captain? Didn’t she just graduate last year?” Once he saw both of his friends nod, his face blanched. “God that’s disgusting- holy shit. Wasn’t Morris the Volleyball coach too?”
“ Yeah ,” Chloe said, face still looking like the cat that got the canary. “And it’s not as PG as Clara made it sound. They got caught because Amber must have forgotten that she had planned to go for lunch with Chrissy one last time before Chrissy moved for college, and so Chrissy just let herself into the Bennett’s house when she heard some questionable things coming from Amber’s room. So she made herself comfortable, and sat on the couch and was ready to take a pic of Amber’s new beau doing the walk of shame.”
Pete was invested, and couldn’t contain his own shocked gasp and furiously whispered “She caught them on camera ?”
“ Yes,” Clara whispered, equally gleeful as Chloe still. “It spread through the girls like wildfire; of course the Bennett’s and their friends found out too. There was an official investigation opened up on whether or not anything happened while she was a student; they couldn’t prove anything happened though.”
Chloe jumped in again, always ready to add fuel to the fire. “But they couldn’t prove that anything didn’t happen either. Amber’s parents and the school board tried to hush it up as best they could. Wouldn’t look good for Amber’s college or volleyball scholarship, nevermind what it means for the school board. Anyways, it was firmly hinted that Morris should transfer school divisions. Last I heard he had to move out of state.”
“ Damn ,” Pete whispered, shellshocked. “Well, I’m still going to miss him. The only reason I passed Klatt’s calculus last year was because of him. What the hell happened to Ms. Nelson then? I swear to god if you two say something crazy…” Pete trailed off.
“What? No, she took an early retirement. She and her husband moved to Florida. Oh, shoot. I think he’s finally done his speech.”
After their Principal finally finished his speech, they announced for each grade to head to a specific place to find out who their homeroom teacher would be, and to find their homeroom teacher to get their schedule for the year.
Senior’s were instructed to go to the Library, where Chloe, Clara, and Pete found out they had the same homeroom this year, and got their schedules. As the three of them compared schedules, an announcement came over the PA system stating that anybody needing a schedule change would need to go see a guidance counsellor, but that seniors had priority and that appointment sign-up sheets had been posted outside their offices.
“Are you coming Clara?” Pete asked as they got ready to spend the rest of their morning in their homeroom.
“Sorry,” Clara apologized as she gathered her things. “I’m missing my chem and math classes, plus they didn’t put me in honours english. Your schedule’s are good though?”
Chloe confirmed that hers was fine, and Pete only had a complaint that his gym class was second period.
After signing up, Clara made her way to homeroom, and found Ms. Meyers’ room with the lights off and 10 Things I Hate About You playing on a portable TV strapped to a cart at the front of the classroom. The desks were arranged into groups of threes, whilst Ms. Meyers desk was already cluttered. There were posters of famous English writers and poets, and past years assignments also decorated the walls. Half the class was empty, which was normal as many people tended to skip the rest of the day after getting their schedules, but there were still enough people that Clara felt awkward as she walked in front of people trying to get to the back, where Chloe and Pete had snagged desks.
“Why’d you have to choose these desks?” Clara whined as she sat down abruptly in her seat.
“It’s far back enough that Ms. Meyers can pretend she can’t see me on my phone.” Chloe answered without looking up.
“It’s right beside that horrid taxidermied possum though.” Clara wrinkled her nose at the thought, and refused to acknowledge the dead rodent in her peripheral vision.
“Hey, leave Mr. Darcy alone,” Pete interjected. “He’s my homeboy.”
They spent the next half hour until lunch texting away, napping, or watching the movie.
When lunch came around, the three of them made their way outside to the football field’s bleachers, determined to enjoy the cool fall weather before it turned to winter.
Chloe ate her sushi and drank her bottle of sparkling water, while Pete practically inhaled the amorphous, slightly grey chicken swimming in an unidentifiable sauce on a bed of instant mashed potatoes with a side of green beans and cornbread that he had gotten from the cafeteria. Clara ate her own lunch at a sedate pace, trying to enjoy her last ‘first lunch at school’ that she’d ever have. She had a carrot cake muffin, some leftover pasta salad, and a little cup of yogurt.
“Hey Clara,” came Pete’s muffled voice as he tried to speak through a mouthful of food. “D’you think you can help me practice?”
Chloe looked in interest, from where she had used her teeth to get out a grain of rice that had been stuck under her nail. “Help you practice what?’
“Ugh, Pete’s been trying all summer to try to have me help him with football. I’ve no idea why.”
“Your dad’s the only guy to ever get a football scholarship in Smallville.”
“Yeah, my dad. Not me . Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m with Clara on this one. Why don’t you just ask him? Isn’t he, like, almost your uncle? Plus,” Chloe said, trying to hold back a laugh, “I think senior year is a bit too late to try and get a football scholarship.”
Pete flushed in anger. “No, I don’t want a scholarship . It just means that he’s the best there’s been. And I have asked him, but he’s been super busy all summer. My dad hasn’t even really seen him.”
Clara winced upon hearing that. “Yeah, sorry. Daddy’s been trying to get a third harvest in this season. He practically hasn’t been sleeping this past week.”
Pete let out a whistle at that. “Are you serious? A third one? When did he first plant, must have been what, beginning of March?” At Clara’s nod, he just shook his head. “Your dad is crazy; but if anyone could do it, it’d be him. Anyone helping?”
“Yeah, a couple of our neighbours have been out with him. I think they’re almost done; when I brought them supper last night they had just started on the east field and when I brought them coffee this morning they were just about done. That just leaves the southern field across the road.”
Before Pete could respond, Chloe loudly scoffed. “God, Clara. You’re dragging women’s rights, like, 50 years into the past. Why are you bringing them supper and coffee? Are they too good to get it themselves?”
Pete and Clara just shared a heavy, loaded look, not wanting to get into another argument with Chloe over this topic again. Luckily, the warning bell rang, and Clara was able to take off directly to her afternoon class instead of having to walk back to her locker with Chloe.
The week didn’t improve much for Clara. Chloe had been in a bad mood all week, getting defensive or offended by the smallest things. Pete had been constantly asking for her to help him prepare for the football tryouts, and seemed to believe that if he asked enough, Clara would agree. She had hardly seen her Daddy, as he was busy preparing the fields and getting ready for another planting now that harvesting was done. Her Mama had been busy as well, busy taking care of the livestock on top of already managing the house and running her baking business. On top of all that, her teachers wouldn’t stop talking about how important this last year was, that their future depended on their work ethic, and that it was time to finally take school seriously. (Clara normally wouldn’t be bothered about that, and would have taken it as fear mongering, but with how stressed she already was it nearly sent her into a tizzy by implying that all her hardwork and dedication she had already shown to her schoolwork apparently wasn’t considered taking her schooling seriously. The thought of having to dedicate even more time to studying which already took up a substantial amount of space in her already full schedule was unbearable.)
Friday though, had been the worst day by far. Pete's obsession with making it onto the football team had hit an all time high, as tryouts were Sunday afternoon. Today he had stepped up how much he had asked, all but harassing her. Clara finally snapped at him, after the 12th time he had asked that day and it was only 2nd period.
“Why are you so obsessed with having me help you in particular?” Clara hissed furiously, leaning across her desk. “ When will you get it through your head that my daddy’s never talked to me about football. Why can’t you just have your brothers or cousins help?”
“You know my family's all the same height as me; and even if your dad never talked plays with you, you're just as tall or even taller than the guys already on the team.” Peter said guilelessly, not even looking up from the Macbeth copy he was reading.
Clara flushed immediately in anger and tears began to prick in her eyes. She quickly left class without being excused, just thankful that it was a self study period and Mr. Thompson wouldn’t care. (Or even notice.)
Chloe had been right behind her, leaving right after she had kicked Pete and whispered something to him furiously.
Clara all but brushed Chloe’s consolation attempts to the side, not wanting to attract attention in the hallways. When they finally made it to the bathroom, Clara gripped the sink while she leant over it, while Chloe started shit talking Pete, then jocks, then high school in general. Clara tuned her out, focusing on breathing and trying to make sure that the rest of her tears remained in her eyes. When she had finally started to calm down, the bathroom door opened. In walked Lana Lang, who had her eyes glued to her phone.
“Clara?” Lana became concerned, once she noticed that the bathroom was already occupied. “Are you ok?”
“I’ll be fine,” Clara responded with a tight smile.
“Oh my god, your eyes are so red. Here,” Lana passed over some paper towel she had run under cold water, “put this on your eyes. Do you need mascara?”
“She’s fine, Lana.” Chloe cut in, clearly trying to dismiss her.
Lana ignored her, and continued to fret over Clara. “What happened?”
“Pete was just being an asshole, and said somethings about my height.” Clara’s smile felt brittle as she continued to hold the soggy, cheap brown paper towel to her eyes. “I’ve just had a bad week, and that just happened to push me over the edge. Really, I’ll be fine.”
Lana hmmed, not agreeing or disagreeing, but got Clara some fresh paper towel with more cold water. “Cheer tryouts are coming up, do you think you’ll try out this year? We could really use you Clara.”
Clara let out a watery laugh. “Cheer? You know how my Daddy is.”
“Yeah, but it’s your final year. Last chance and all that. Do you maybe want Nell to go talk to him?”
Clara scoffed. “Yeah, because that’ll go over well with Mama.”
“Knock it off Lana. Clara said she can’t. Besides, she’s already busy with the newsletter.” Came Chloe’s voice suddenly, startling the other two girls.
“Chloe’s right Lana. There’s no point, I don’t need the argument that it’ll surely cause.” Clara said, exhausted. “Thanks, though.”
It was silent and awkward in the bathroom after that, Chloe glaring daggers in the side of Lana’s head while Lana continued to pretend that she wasn’t there. There still wasn’t any conversation by the time the puffiness in Clara’s eyes had gone down, and now Clara was staring at herself over the sink, looking at her ruined makeup. Silently, Lana passed her some makeup remover wipes from her bag, alongside mascara and eyeliner.
“Thank you,” Clara whispered gratefully.
“Of course.” Lana replied, just as quiet. “Do you want to go to the Beanery for lunch or after school? My treat.”
Clara gave a small smile, but before she could respond, Chloe’s voice rang out loudly in the bathroom.
“Whatever. Obviously you don’t need me here since your best friend decided to make her yearly appearance.” Chloe stormed out of the bathroom, not sparing Clara a second glance. Lana and Clara both flinched when the door slammed behind her.
“Clara,” Lana began, “I know you said you don’t want the argument it’ll cause, but I think you should try out anyway. No, let me finish please,” She said, cutting off Clara before she could begin protesting again. “You’ve wanted to be a cheerleader since I made it onto the elementary team. That was what, six years ago? And I know you know the routines, you helped me practice back in grade nine for the audition and after. Sometimes, I think you’re the only reason I even made it onto the team.” Lana trailed off, and Clara didn’t have anything to say, and just continued putting on makeup.
“Thanks, Lana. I, I… I’ll think about it, ok? I’d love to go to the Beanery with you sometime.”
Lana let out a dazzling smile. “That’s all I’m asking Clara. I’ll put your name on the sign up sheet, but it’s fine if you don’t show. Just as long as you promise me that you’ll actually think about it. When do you want to go?” Lana pulled out her phone as she tucked her returned makeup back into her purse, and checked the time. “We missed almost all of home room, do you want to just skip the block and relax until the afternoon? What are you taking this year, anyways?”
“Home Ec for the first quarter, then Drama, and then Art for the entire second semester. And no, I think I’m just going to head home for the rest of today. I’m already exhausted.”
“Awe, ok. Do you need a ride? I’m sure Whitney would if I asked.”
“No, it’s ok. Can I borrow your phone so I can call Mama though? I’m already running low on minutes, and Mrs Bell might actually tackle me if she sees me leaving school unexcused in the middle of the day.”
“Of course; here. And oh my god, she’s so scary. Why is she a secretary? Whitney told me that his dad told him she was a backup for the USA women’s field hockey team for 1984 and 1988.”
Clara walked along the road in the shade of the trees. There was a nice breeze blowing, and the sounds of nature and the rush of water filled her ears. Even though this route made her walk home twice as long, there was a specific reason. As she finally rounded the curve, she came to a bridge. She sped up, and found herself leaning against the railing, watching the water and basking in the feeling of the sun shining warmly on her back. It had been her habit to do so ever since she had started high school that when she had a trying day in an effort to collect herself so she could put on a smile for her parents. This road was usually dead, as the only thing of interest that was connected to it was the LutherCorp Plant about a 25 minute drive up, and everyone knew shift change wasn’t until 6 or 8 pm.
Clara enjoyed the solitude, and finally felt herself begin to relax after her exhausting week. It was just her, the sun, the water, the sound of birds chirping, water rushing by, leaves rustling, and the sound of… tires skidding? Clara whipped her head around just in time to meet the eyes of a young man whose face was both horrified and terrified, as he sat behind the wheel of a vehicle that was about to hit her.