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What's the name of the principal on Smallville? Because ... (warning: gratuitous clichefic excerpt)
“Mr. Kent, can you tell us about carboxyl groups and the acids they form?”
Beside him, Chloe groaned softly, anticipating a lecture on paying attention in class.
Lex’s head snapped up. “Carboxyl groups, one carbon atom, two oxygen, one hydrogen. Carboxyl is a monovalent radical that acts as a weak acid, based on a phenomenon known as resonance having to do with the double bond between the carbon atom and one oxygen atom. Resonance aids in ionization and a carboxyl group can thus be distinguished from an alcohol, which also has an –OH bonded to a carbon atom but, like water, ionizes barely at all. Carboxylic acids contain a carboxyl group joined to a hydrogen atom, an alkyl group, or an aryl group by a single bond to its carbon atom. The four main types of reactions of carboxylic acids are chiefly due to either the weak acidity of the hydroxyl hydrogen or to the difference in electronegativity between carbon and oxygen. Dicarboxylic acids are –“
“*Thank* you, Mr. Kent. That will be quite enough.” The chemistry teacher looked as if he were having an attack of gas. It was an expression Lex had often enjoyed putting on teachers’ faces.
Chloe and Pete – hell, all the students – were gaping at him as if he were an alien. Which, of course, was pretty much the case.
The teacher turned his attention to another victim, reasserting his authority, and Lex manfully avoided smirking, which would doubtless only earn Clark the teacher’s enmity.
****
Outside the classroom, Lex paused and pulled out his cellphone. Clark picked up on the first ring. “Lex! Thank God. Someone named Parker called and says he won’t go lower than forty-seven, and you should call him back before three.”
“Call Parker, tell him forty-three and I know that DeWitt will do it for that much but I’d prefer to stick with him. Parker will cave.”
“What if he doesn’t? Forty-seven what?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll call again at lunch. Anything else?”
“Some personnel stuff from Gabe.”
“Give him whatever he wants, he’s great with personnel.”
“Lex, I’m really uncomfortable –“
Principal [Reynolds] was standing in front of him. “Gotta go.” He snapped the phone shut. “Hello, sir.” This was actually helpful. Standing in front of the man, he almost felt fourteen again. Though Lex at fourteen was probably more like Lex at twenty-two than Clark at sixteen.
“Mr. Kent, you know cellphone use is prohibited on campus.” He held out his hand.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck. “Yes, sir,” he said and turned the phone off before handing it over. The last thing Clark needed was to have the principal answer a panicked call. “May I retrieve it after school?”
The principal harrumphed. “Yes, you may.” He turned and stalked off to harass some other, more undeserving student.
Pete appeared and nudged his shoulder. “What is up with you, man? Spouting chemistry, ordering someone around on the phone – you haven’t been hanging around any red rocks, have you? Let me see your hands.”
This grows from strange to stranger, Lex thought. Clark would submit to an inspection, right? But he would say something. “What are you talking about, Pete?” he asked as he held out his hands and Pete examined each finger, his wrists, and then tugged at his collar as if checking for hidden jewelry.
“Class ring? Red meteor rock? Strange Clark Kent behavior? Am I ringing any bells?”
Chloe approached, raising her eyebrows at Pete’s patdown. “First Clark goes all Mr. Peabody, now Pete’s conducting physical exams? What is this, fantasy career day?”
“Nothing’s going on,” Lex said, mind spinning a thousand cycles a minute. “I’ve just been studying. You know, Lex is really good at chemistry. He helps me sometimes.”
“I’ll bet he does,” Chloe said, and he turned a jaundiced eye on her. That girl definitely bore watching.
****
At lunchtime, Lex called again.
Clark kept Lex on the phone for half an hour, talking through his responses to all the messages that said “urgent.” He didn’t quite believe Lex’s claim that most of them were not urgent at all; he suspected that Lex was trying to make him feel better for screwing up Lex’s plant. Lex employed thousands of people! And Clark had the power to destroy all that. It was worse, somehow, than having the power to destroy a building.
“Where are you, anyway?” he said when Lex explained that he couldn’t use the cellphone any more.
“The Torch office,” Lex said. “I skipped lunch –“
Clark gasped in horror. “You did what?!”
“It’s not a problem, I practically ate an entire horse this morning, as you may recall.”
“Lex,” he said, “you ate less than I usually do at breakfast. And you can’t skip lunch. Do the words low blood sugar mean anything to you? Look, in the bottom right drawer in the big desk, Chloe keeps an emergency Kit Kat supply. Open it up and eat every single one of them. I’ll replace them later.”
There were clunking noises as Lex complied. “Hmm,” he said after a few moments, “I guess I could eat. You know, this stuff’s not that bad. Oh, God, your palate! I mourn for the youth of Smallville. Remind me to buy you some real chocolate. And stop calling me – that name. Anyone could walk in.”
Yeah, Lex was cranky, a sure sign that a massive food infusion was required. Unfortunately, aliens cannot live on Kit Kats alone, and Clark was very afraid of what a hyperactive Lex would do when school let out.
“I’ll pick you up right after school,” he said.
“You know, when I do that, it must look – never mind. Just don’t crash my car.”
****
Principal [Reynolds] opened a desk drawer and retrieved the cellphone. He made as if to hand it back, then pulled away at the last second. “I want to talk to you, Mr. Kent.”
Fabulous. He needed to get over to the plant right quick, and God knew what Clark was doing to his car. But he knew that resistance would only make the principal more determined. “Yes, sir?”
“Since we had our talk, I haven’t seen any improvement in your extracurricular participation, or any moves in the direction of becoming a serious journalist.”
Lex considered this. He felt jumpy, as if he had to get moving, but he had a chance to make things better for Clark – or worse -- and he didn’t want to screw this up. “Mr. [Reynolds], may I speak freely for a moment?”
The principal swept his hand around in invitation. “Have at it, Mr. Kent.”
“You’ve never worked on a farm or taught farm kids before, have you? Do you know what time I got up? Four-thirty a.m., three hours of chores before school, and at least that much waiting for me when I get home, plus homework. Look, sir, you and I both know my grades and scores are good enough to get me into Met U, which is all I want and all my parents can afford. I really appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but my family and our farm are more important to me than extracurricular activities. I have a forty-hour-a-week job and I go to school and I try to have friends. I just – maybe if you see how the world looks to me, you might – I’m not trying to defy you. Really I’m not.”
He paused for breath, hoping he’d hit the right notes of teen stress and appeal to the principal’s work ethic.
Principal [Reynolds] frowned. “I hadn’t realized all that, Mr. Kent. Couldn’t your parents spare you a little more?”
“A family farm’s always a half step away from financial ruin, sir. We can’t afford another hand.” In point of fact, Clark seemed to do the work of three hands, and Lex wasn’t entirely sure how he managed all those chores on a regular basis – but that was a matter for worrying over another time. “And, sir, I do good, honest work. I don’t think I need to be in the chess club to learn about hard work and responsibility and teamwork.” That was pushing it, but it was also true. Of everyone Lex had ever met, Clark was the least in need of constructive activity to build his character.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Mr. Kent.” The principal finally surrendered the cellphone, which Lex took with relief.
“Thank you, sir,” he said and fled.
“Mr. Kent, can you tell us about carboxyl groups and the acids they form?”
Beside him, Chloe groaned softly, anticipating a lecture on paying attention in class.
Lex’s head snapped up. “Carboxyl groups, one carbon atom, two oxygen, one hydrogen. Carboxyl is a monovalent radical that acts as a weak acid, based on a phenomenon known as resonance having to do with the double bond between the carbon atom and one oxygen atom. Resonance aids in ionization and a carboxyl group can thus be distinguished from an alcohol, which also has an –OH bonded to a carbon atom but, like water, ionizes barely at all. Carboxylic acids contain a carboxyl group joined to a hydrogen atom, an alkyl group, or an aryl group by a single bond to its carbon atom. The four main types of reactions of carboxylic acids are chiefly due to either the weak acidity of the hydroxyl hydrogen or to the difference in electronegativity between carbon and oxygen. Dicarboxylic acids are –“
“*Thank* you, Mr. Kent. That will be quite enough.” The chemistry teacher looked as if he were having an attack of gas. It was an expression Lex had often enjoyed putting on teachers’ faces.
Chloe and Pete – hell, all the students – were gaping at him as if he were an alien. Which, of course, was pretty much the case.
The teacher turned his attention to another victim, reasserting his authority, and Lex manfully avoided smirking, which would doubtless only earn Clark the teacher’s enmity.
****
Outside the classroom, Lex paused and pulled out his cellphone. Clark picked up on the first ring. “Lex! Thank God. Someone named Parker called and says he won’t go lower than forty-seven, and you should call him back before three.”
“Call Parker, tell him forty-three and I know that DeWitt will do it for that much but I’d prefer to stick with him. Parker will cave.”
“What if he doesn’t? Forty-seven what?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll call again at lunch. Anything else?”
“Some personnel stuff from Gabe.”
“Give him whatever he wants, he’s great with personnel.”
“Lex, I’m really uncomfortable –“
Principal [Reynolds] was standing in front of him. “Gotta go.” He snapped the phone shut. “Hello, sir.” This was actually helpful. Standing in front of the man, he almost felt fourteen again. Though Lex at fourteen was probably more like Lex at twenty-two than Clark at sixteen.
“Mr. Kent, you know cellphone use is prohibited on campus.” He held out his hand.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck. “Yes, sir,” he said and turned the phone off before handing it over. The last thing Clark needed was to have the principal answer a panicked call. “May I retrieve it after school?”
The principal harrumphed. “Yes, you may.” He turned and stalked off to harass some other, more undeserving student.
Pete appeared and nudged his shoulder. “What is up with you, man? Spouting chemistry, ordering someone around on the phone – you haven’t been hanging around any red rocks, have you? Let me see your hands.”
This grows from strange to stranger, Lex thought. Clark would submit to an inspection, right? But he would say something. “What are you talking about, Pete?” he asked as he held out his hands and Pete examined each finger, his wrists, and then tugged at his collar as if checking for hidden jewelry.
“Class ring? Red meteor rock? Strange Clark Kent behavior? Am I ringing any bells?”
Chloe approached, raising her eyebrows at Pete’s patdown. “First Clark goes all Mr. Peabody, now Pete’s conducting physical exams? What is this, fantasy career day?”
“Nothing’s going on,” Lex said, mind spinning a thousand cycles a minute. “I’ve just been studying. You know, Lex is really good at chemistry. He helps me sometimes.”
“I’ll bet he does,” Chloe said, and he turned a jaundiced eye on her. That girl definitely bore watching.
****
At lunchtime, Lex called again.
Clark kept Lex on the phone for half an hour, talking through his responses to all the messages that said “urgent.” He didn’t quite believe Lex’s claim that most of them were not urgent at all; he suspected that Lex was trying to make him feel better for screwing up Lex’s plant. Lex employed thousands of people! And Clark had the power to destroy all that. It was worse, somehow, than having the power to destroy a building.
“Where are you, anyway?” he said when Lex explained that he couldn’t use the cellphone any more.
“The Torch office,” Lex said. “I skipped lunch –“
Clark gasped in horror. “You did what?!”
“It’s not a problem, I practically ate an entire horse this morning, as you may recall.”
“Lex,” he said, “you ate less than I usually do at breakfast. And you can’t skip lunch. Do the words low blood sugar mean anything to you? Look, in the bottom right drawer in the big desk, Chloe keeps an emergency Kit Kat supply. Open it up and eat every single one of them. I’ll replace them later.”
There were clunking noises as Lex complied. “Hmm,” he said after a few moments, “I guess I could eat. You know, this stuff’s not that bad. Oh, God, your palate! I mourn for the youth of Smallville. Remind me to buy you some real chocolate. And stop calling me – that name. Anyone could walk in.”
Yeah, Lex was cranky, a sure sign that a massive food infusion was required. Unfortunately, aliens cannot live on Kit Kats alone, and Clark was very afraid of what a hyperactive Lex would do when school let out.
“I’ll pick you up right after school,” he said.
“You know, when I do that, it must look – never mind. Just don’t crash my car.”
****
Principal [Reynolds] opened a desk drawer and retrieved the cellphone. He made as if to hand it back, then pulled away at the last second. “I want to talk to you, Mr. Kent.”
Fabulous. He needed to get over to the plant right quick, and God knew what Clark was doing to his car. But he knew that resistance would only make the principal more determined. “Yes, sir?”
“Since we had our talk, I haven’t seen any improvement in your extracurricular participation, or any moves in the direction of becoming a serious journalist.”
Lex considered this. He felt jumpy, as if he had to get moving, but he had a chance to make things better for Clark – or worse -- and he didn’t want to screw this up. “Mr. [Reynolds], may I speak freely for a moment?”
The principal swept his hand around in invitation. “Have at it, Mr. Kent.”
“You’ve never worked on a farm or taught farm kids before, have you? Do you know what time I got up? Four-thirty a.m., three hours of chores before school, and at least that much waiting for me when I get home, plus homework. Look, sir, you and I both know my grades and scores are good enough to get me into Met U, which is all I want and all my parents can afford. I really appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but my family and our farm are more important to me than extracurricular activities. I have a forty-hour-a-week job and I go to school and I try to have friends. I just – maybe if you see how the world looks to me, you might – I’m not trying to defy you. Really I’m not.”
He paused for breath, hoping he’d hit the right notes of teen stress and appeal to the principal’s work ethic.
Principal [Reynolds] frowned. “I hadn’t realized all that, Mr. Kent. Couldn’t your parents spare you a little more?”
“A family farm’s always a half step away from financial ruin, sir. We can’t afford another hand.” In point of fact, Clark seemed to do the work of three hands, and Lex wasn’t entirely sure how he managed all those chores on a regular basis – but that was a matter for worrying over another time. “And, sir, I do good, honest work. I don’t think I need to be in the chess club to learn about hard work and responsibility and teamwork.” That was pushing it, but it was also true. Of everyone Lex had ever met, Clark was the least in need of constructive activity to build his character.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Mr. Kent.” The principal finally surrendered the cellphone, which Lex took with relief.
“Thank you, sir,” he said and fled.
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There will be more, as soon as I finish the story I was writing before bonibaru ambushed me with this *!@# concept. This is, I understand, your fault. There will be consequences.
I said eh. I swear, I said eh, in a non-encouraging but also non-discouraging way.
You have NO idea the scary ideas that come out of that room. None at all.
*sunny smile* I'm re-reading. This is just killing me.
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