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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He wasn't going to say 'you didn't have to.' Because she knew she didn't have to. And he wasn't going to say 'you shouldn't have,' because it was Steve. If somebody was going to help Steve, he was going to let them.
"Thank you," he said instead. "I know they'll be grateful." And he was going to work so hard to repay all these good things that were happening. Perfect grades, he swore. Repairs. He'd learn to grow plants and cook. Because how could he do anything else? He was going to be worth all this help.
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Clark took another bite of sweet potato.
"I did have one little thing I wanted to make sure of, honey. And I'm pretty sure, given what Clark said, but I have to be sure."
Clark sat up then.
"Ma, you don't have to--"
"Some things need saying, sweetheart. And I trust him just fine. But I want to be sure he knows." She looked over at Bucky, not threatening. Not even worried. Just... a mother, needing to hear some things.
"You know we've all got to be careful about what Clark can do, don't you?"
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But then he looked back to Martha with every bit of solemnity a twelve-year-old could muster. "But I'll swear on a stack of bibles if you want me to. It won't be said anywhere anybody who doesn't know can hear. Us in this room, and Steve, and that's all."
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"I'm glad you get it, sweetheart. That's all I needed to know."
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"Don't forget to save room for lemon bars, dear."
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"Good. A treat at the end of the day makes for sweet dreams."
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"No, dear. I'm not about to bum rush a woman who just got home from a long shift. I'll ask Steve tomorrow while he's over when she has a shift off and I'll make my way over."
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That smile went right at Bucky.
"It's served me pretty well so far."
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Clark nodded at that. He took his responsibilities to the farm seriously.
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