Clark Kent (
stands_for_hope) wrote2015-05-26 08:10 pm
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Entry tags:
The Double K Farm for At Risk Youth - How it Starts
It had been a hard year for the Kents.
The loss of a father, a husband, had hollowed out mother and son, though thankfully they'd managed to make due on the farm between the both of them. But that was just the financial parts. The farm felt empty without Jonathon Kent, their home felt empty, and Clark...
Clark was so angry with everyone, with everything. It wasn't fair.
He could do so many things, so many things, but he hadn't been able to do anything when his father's heart had given out. He hadn't been able to do anything when Jonathon Kent had dropped dead in a field while Clark was at school. He'd just been there to get pulled into the office, take the phonecall from his mother.
It was doubly hard to go through his days now. Before, there'd been a bit of a barrier between the people who liked to tease him; Jonathon Kent had been respected and folks had looked out for Clark because of it. They still looked for him, but now it was more about sympathy and less of a willingness to put themselves between him and trouble.
That's why he was here. Twelve years old, pushed against a chain link fence, holding onto the fence pole for their sake as much as his own. Anger boiled up inside him, anger enough to make his eyes start to lighten to red, anger enough to make him want to do things he couldn't do, shouldn't do. Because people were mean and cruel and they picked on weakness like a pack of jackals, even if the weakness was feigned.
I can't do it. I can't hurt anyone.
It was like a screen door trying to hold back a tidal wave. He was shaking and his eyes were so hot. He just hoped he could hold on long enough for them to get bored. Long enough for someone to wander by. He just had to hold on.
The loss of a father, a husband, had hollowed out mother and son, though thankfully they'd managed to make due on the farm between the both of them. But that was just the financial parts. The farm felt empty without Jonathon Kent, their home felt empty, and Clark...
Clark was so angry with everyone, with everything. It wasn't fair.
He could do so many things, so many things, but he hadn't been able to do anything when his father's heart had given out. He hadn't been able to do anything when Jonathon Kent had dropped dead in a field while Clark was at school. He'd just been there to get pulled into the office, take the phonecall from his mother.
It was doubly hard to go through his days now. Before, there'd been a bit of a barrier between the people who liked to tease him; Jonathon Kent had been respected and folks had looked out for Clark because of it. They still looked for him, but now it was more about sympathy and less of a willingness to put themselves between him and trouble.
That's why he was here. Twelve years old, pushed against a chain link fence, holding onto the fence pole for their sake as much as his own. Anger boiled up inside him, anger enough to make his eyes start to lighten to red, anger enough to make him want to do things he couldn't do, shouldn't do. Because people were mean and cruel and they picked on weakness like a pack of jackals, even if the weakness was feigned.
I can't do it. I can't hurt anyone.
It was like a screen door trying to hold back a tidal wave. He was shaking and his eyes were so hot. He just hoped he could hold on long enough for them to get bored. Long enough for someone to wander by. He just had to hold on.
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But then they were pulling away, and he waved behind them, showing confidence he didn't exactly feel. It'd been the same feeling that had driven him to follow when Steve and his mother had left the city.
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"So, Bucky... Clark here tells me you've been sleepin' up in the Sullivan barn most nights?"
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How would he have? He was twelve. It wasn't as if he could rent a house or an apartment, or go to a hotel. He'd just known he couldn't leave Steve by himself.
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She kept driving, keeping her eyes on the road.
"You can pick the one all the way at the top of the house or you can have the one on the middle floor. S'up to you. And I'll be introducing you as Jonathon's nephew come to stay with us, if that's all right with you. It'll keep the locals from gossiping and giving you trouble. Though the paperwork for school might take a few days. Not sure if my old contacts are still good to get me papers for you. Though you're going to school, do you understand?"
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His stomach had tied itself in a knot.
"Ma'am, I... I'm an orphan," he said. "I was in an orphanage back in New York. It wasn't a good one, but if you put me in school, they'll probably get my name somehow and get me back. And I can't go back there and leave Steve alone. I've been keeping up with lessons with Steve's help, but I'm not sure if I could stay if it was up to the orphanage."
Sister Mary Aquila would probably beat his bottom bruised. He could live with it, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to have to hitchhike all the way down here again.
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"Well, then. You've got two options, son: I can contact that orphanage and see about takin' you in proper or I can check in with those friends of mine who know how to handle things and get you some new paperwork so you can start fresh. S'up to you, kiddo. But I'm not leavin' a good boy in a barn, not when it's clear enough that you need lookin' after."
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She didn't address his wish to pay her back or pull his weight. It was a farm. It'd happen naturally because it was good for all of them and he'd learn that sooner rather than later, he had a feeling.
"Clark, you'll help him pull some of your old things out of storage? I think he's just a might smaller than you, just enough that he ought to have a fresh change of clothes 'til I can get out to the Walmart."
Clark nodded.
"And I'll show him around the farm while you're makin' dinner."
"Good boy."
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And there were things that he was surprisingly looking forward to. Like a real bath instead of washing up at the side of a stream, and clean clothes - actually clean. He was a city kid. He wasn't meant for roughing it quite this rough, but he was doing pretty well for someone who was just... trying.
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Martha kept driving, leaning back.
"Though you're welcome to tell me a little more about yourself. Don't worry 'bout proving yourself; that's already done. But it might be nice to know your whole name and all."
She was teasing, just a little.
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And if he was going to tell that part, then he might as well tell it all.
"So I've been helping him and his mom how I could. I took some jobs and gave them the extra money since the sisters at the orphanage were getting something called a stipend for every one of us they were taking care of and that meant we weren't supposed to have money. But Steve's asthma finally got so bad that the doctors were telling him that he wasn't ever going to be okay in the city and that he needed to be moved somewhere with clean air."
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She said the word with considerable endearment.
"Well, it's mighty nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. And I know our little farm ain't much, but it's a bed and three square meals any day you need it. Steve's welcome to dinner when he's over as well."
She smiled at Clark.
"We don't have much money, but we've got land and good food. We grow organic produce that I sell at the market along with my pies," and Clark may have made a bit of a hungry face at the mention of pie, "and my father'll usually send us down some beef from his cattle farm up north of us. I'm sure he'll be delighted to have someone other than me enjoying it again."
Clark blushed but she leaned over and ruffled his hair.
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And he'd have to learn how to do it, of course, but that was something he was sure she understood. But he was going to work hard if he was going to be treated that well.
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"It's dead," he said, as if that explained the whole thing. "I don't care if you do, but I don't like how it looks."
Martha nodded and rubbed her son's shoulder with an arm behind Bucky.
"Clark's very sensitive about some things. Good thing we have so many vegetables." Then she turned to Bucky. "Don't you worry, Bucky. We get along just fine. You'll have plenty of time."
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"What part of any of that made it seem like I didn't want to take you in, son?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Even if you were raisin' hell, I'd still think all you needed was a little love and care. You're young. Ain't nothing wrong with anyone your age that can't get solved with a bit of patience and kindness."
Clark gave half of a smile.
"If she handled me, you'll be a piece of cake."
Martha looked scandelized and ruffled her son's hair again.
"Clark Joseph Kent!"
But he was giggling.
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"Then it sounds like you fight the fights worth fighting. And there ain't nothing wrong with that."
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He glanced at Clark, lifted his shoulders a little bit, then looked back at Martha, his jaw set. "I know why Clark doesn't fight back. He's brave for being able to do it, to hold back. I don't know if I could. So I'll fight for him, too."
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"Clark's got his reasons. Just like you've got yours. And I'm sure your Steve has his reasons too."
She put the truck back in gear and pressed the peddle, pulling back onto the road towards the farm.
"You're a good boy, Bucky. Don't let anyone tell you different."
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Just like a little boy, though, he swallowed, cleared his throat, and brushed it off. He had an appearance to upkeep, after all. "Thank you, Ma'am," he said, head ducked just so. "I... I try."
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"I'm just gonna keep calling you Ma," Clark added with a little grin.
Martha laughed. "You little troublemaker."
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And he'd be worth the effort. He was determined, now.
"Clark said I'd be helpin' you unload. As long as you show me where things go, I'll take care of it. I had a job unloading produce at a store for a little while. I was okay at it."
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"Clark'll show you where I keep the stores and the containers and then he's gonna do his own chores and I'll get you set up in the room. You can clean up, I'll make dinner, and then Clark'll ride you over to see Steve."
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And he'd work at doing it right instead of just fast. This was food that should last - and that meant it needed to be taken care of and not carelessly bruised.
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