Meteor Freak
Episode 3: Heatwave Part 1
Date: Monday, August 15, 2011.
Location: Smallville High School, Smallville, Kansas
The hot summer sun beamed on Tyson's skin as he strode onto Smallville High's campus that Monday morning. A familiar voice called out before he could reach the main entrance. Kara's golden aura shimmered around her as she approached. "Remember when you said all the eyes would be on me as the new kid?" she asked with a hint of amusement.
"Yeah, why?"
With a flourish, Kara produced a copy of the Torch, the school newspaper. She handed it to him. "Thanks, by the way. No one's been talking about me. Your name is the one on everyone's lips."
Tyson's eyes widened as he took in the front page. There he was, in all his glory, wearing nothing but his boxers with an 'S' painted on his chest. The headline screamed, "Scarecrow Tradition Exposed!"
"Oh, man," Tyson groaned. He glanced up to see Kara already walking away.
"So, you were thinking of asking me on a date because I'm such a gentleman and did you such a huge favor?" He called after her. "And I fed you pie, too. Don't forget that!"
I never did get to try the pecan because of Greg." he mumbled. "
Kara paused, turning back to face him. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "The article says you're homeless."
Tyson's mouth opened and closed, searching for words. "That's not... well, it's technically true, but…"
"Sorry," Kara cut him off. "Where would you bring me after a date? To that hotel?" She shook her head, but her smile hadn't faded. "I don't think so. You didn't do me that big a favor. Maybe some other time."
As Kara turned to leave, Tyson clutched his chest dramatically. "Shot down!" he exclaimed with a groan, feigning pain. "You wound me, Kara!"She just winked over her shoulder and continued into the building.
With a sigh, he leaned against the nearest wall and began to read Chloe's exposé on the scarecrow tradition. The article was thorough, detailing the history of the hazing ritual and how it had been a dark secret at Smallville High for years. Her writing condemned the practice and praised Tyson's bold move at the Kickoff Dance. Students filed past him as he read, many casting glances his way or whispering to their friends. Tyson could feel their eyes on him and hear the hushed conversations.
"Hey, Scarecrow!" a voice called out. A group of football players approached. "You think you're some kind of hero?"
As the boys closed in, Tyson straightened up. "Time for round two?" he asked, not backing down.
The football player stepped closer, his fists clenching at his sides. "You made us look bad. We've got to run extra laps all week because of you."
"Sounds like you should be mad at your coach, not me," Tyson said.
The situation seemed ready to escalate when a familiar voice asked, "Is there a problem here?"
Tyson turned to see Chloe Sullivan with her camera hanging around her neck. The football players shifted uncomfortably, clearly not wanting to cause a scene in front of the school's reporter.
"No problem," the lead player muttered, shooting Tyson a final glare before stalking off with his teammates. "Coach wanted to talk with both of you."
Chloe watched them go before turning to Tyson with a grin. "How does it feel to be Smallville High's newest celebrity?"
"About as comfortable as standing in a cornfield in my underwear."
"Well, get used to it," Chloe said. "This story is huge. I've gotten calls from the Ledger and the Daily Planet asking for more details."
Tyson's eyebrows shot up. "The Daily Planet? Isn't that in Metropolis?"
Chloe nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. Looks like your little stunt might have some far-reaching consequences. In a good way, of course. Like ending the scarecrow tradition for good."
"Wait a second, what state is Metropolis in?" He asked.
"Delaware, duh."
"And Gotham City?"
"Across the bay in New Jersey. Did you miss middle school geography and US history?"
"Nah. I'm just wondering why a newspaper from the other side of the country cares about a hazing ritual here in Kansas."
As they walked into the school building, Tyson couldn't help but notice the sea of faces that turned to stare at him. Some students quickly averted their gaze when he looked their way, while others openly pointed and whispered.
"I feel like I'm in a fishbowl," Tyson muttered.
Chloe patted his arm sympathetically. "Don't worry, it'll blow over... eventually. In the meantime, want to help me with the Jeremy Creek piece I'm working on?"
Before Tyson could respond, he caught sight of Lana Lang down the hallway by her locker, looking at him with an unreadable expression. When their eyes met, she offered a small, hesitant smile. He inclined his head and raised his eyebrows, his gesture soundlessly asking if she was alright. Lana gave a nod before turning away.
"Earth to Tyson," Chloe said, waving a hand before his face. "You still with me?"
Tyson blinked, refocusing on Chloe. "Yeah, sorry. Um, about that interview..."
The bell rang, cutting off their conversation. Students began to hurry to their first classes, the hallway filling with the sounds of slamming lockers.
"We'll talk later," Chloe said, "Don't think you're off the hook!"
Tyson entered the classroom, scanning for an empty seat. To his left, Chloe moved to sit next to Lana. He mumbled, "Missed opportunity."
Spotting a vacant lab table behind Pete and Clark, he made his way over, settling into the chair. Pete twisted around in his seat, a look of mock despair on his face. "Oh great."
Clark glanced at his friend. "What?"
"Every year, the incredibly aged Mrs. Kowalski kicks off biology class with an ancient sex ed film." Tyson groaned, and Pete continued, "Yep. It's practically a Smallville High tradition at this point."
"Who told you that, your brother?" Clark asked.
"My dad. Apparently, it's been the same film since he was in school."
Clark's expression turned hopeful. "Well, I'm sure it can't be that bad."
Pete snorted. "Trust me, it's worse than you can imagine. And having to sit through this during the worst heat wave in 20 years is torture."
The room fell silent as the door at the front of the classroom swung open. A striking young woman entered. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and curves that her outfit did little to conceal. She wore a light, flimsy sundress that stopped just short of her upper thigh. The neckline plunged low, revealing a generous amount of cleavage. As she walked to the teacher's desk, every eye in the room followed her movement.
"Good morning, class," she said, "I'm Miss Atkins, and I'll be your biology teacher this year."
The fabric of her sundress clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination, thanks to how much she was sweating. Every male head in the room swiveled to follow her. Tyson noted the slack-jawed expressions on his classmates' faces. Pete's eyes were as wide as saucers, while Clark looked like he'd been hit by a truck. Even Chloe's eyebrows raised. While Lana just looked confused.
Tyson, for his part, was more interested in the green aura surrounding their new teacher. He mumbled, "Is being sexy a superpower?"
Miss Atkins sashayed to the center of the room. She reached up to grab the projection screen and pulled it down, giving the class a tantalizing view of her backside. Clark leaned so far forward that he nearly toppled off his stool.
"Careful there, farm boy," Pete muttered, elbowing Clark. "You're gonna hurt yourself."
The temperature in the room seemed to spike. All around, students were fanning themselves or tugging at their collars. Even Chloe, who usually had a quip for every situation, was rendered speechless.
"I'm really sorry about the air conditioning in here. But it looks like we're going to have to suffer through this together," she said with a sigh and a smile.
Pete mumbled, "Bring on the pain."
Lana tried to suppress her laugh.
"Let's get ready for a movie." Miss Atkins said while closing the blinds. She turned back to face the class with a knowing smile. "Now, I know this subject can be a bit... uncomfortable for some of you. But I assure you, by the end of this semester, you'll all be very comfortable with the human body."
A collective gulp echoed through the room.
Tyson mumbled, "It's like she's doing the thirst-trap teacher bit on purpose."
Lana caught his eye and turned her hand palm up toward their teacher and tilted her head as if to say, 'Can you believe this?'
Miss Atkins walked to the projector, bending over to fiddle with the settings. Clark made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and Pete had to cover his mouth to stop his laughter. Chloe grabbed an eraser and chucked it at Clark's head.
As Miss Atkins straightened up, Tyson noticed that while everyone else in the room was practically melting from the heat, Clark seemed completely unaffected. Despite his flushed face and obvious discomfort, he wasn't sweating at all. Come to think of it, Tyson realized he wasn't sweating either. The room felt warm, sure, but comfortably so.
"Let's get ready for a movie," Miss Atkins announced, her voice dripping with honey. "All right. Everybody try to stay awake."
The projector clunked to life, its mechanical whirring filling the stuffy classroom. A monotone male voice droned from the speakers, accompanied by grainy footage of various animals.
"All members of the animal kingdom, from the simplest one-celled organism to the most complex of mammals, engage in reproduction. This ensures that each individual creature can pass on its genetic information to future generations."
Tyson glanced around the room. Most of his classmates were already struggling to keep their eyes open. Pete's head bobbed dangerously close to his desk while Clark's gaze drifted towards Ms. Atkins at the back of the room.
"Animals rely on a variety of courtship methods. This remarkable reproductive process is set into motion by the act of copulation, also known as intercourse or coitus."
A few nervous giggles rippled through the class. Tyson caught Chloe rolling her eyes.
"In many species, the females attract their mates with chemical scents called pheromones. Pheromones elicit specific behaviors from members of the opposite sex and are secreted by glands or incorporated into other fluids such as perspiration."
The narrator's words became a distant buzz as Tyson noticed Clark turning in his seat again. Following his gaze, Tyson saw Miss Atkins leaning against the desk at the back of the room. She reached down, caressing her leg with languid movements. Her fingers trailed up to her collarbone, tracing lazy patterns on her skin.
Miss Atkins noticed Clark's stare and gestured for him to turn around. Clark reluctantly faced forward, his face flushed. Chloe, who had been watching the exchange, let out a sarcastic laugh, drawing Tyson's attention. He looked over to notice a sheen of sweat on Chloe and Lana's faces. The moisture glistened on their skin, accentuating their features in an almost cinematic way. Chloe's blonde hair clung to her forehead while droplets traced the curve of Lana's cheekbones.
Chloe caught Tyson looking and smirked. She dragged her pen across her chest in an exaggerated motion, clearly mocking Miss Atkins' earlier behavior. Tyson stifled a laugh, shaking his head at her antics while the film droned on.
"Chemical signals can be used to control the behavior of other animals..."
Clark glanced back once more. Tyson watched as his friend's eyes widened, following a bead of sweat that trickled down between Miss Atkins' breasts. Suddenly, Clark's expression changed from fascination to panic. He whipped his head around to face the front, blinking rapidly.
Tyson noticed the flickering of Clark's golden aura. Suddenly, it grew brighter. He leaned forward, whispering, "Clark, you okay?"
Before Clark could answer, his face contorted. He began to pant, his eyes taking on a strange, glowing quality. Two wavy heat waves, nearly invisible, shot from Clark's eyes, hitting the projector screen in splotches. Tyson blinked, unsure if he had really seen what he thought he saw. But there was no denying the result.
The screen began to catch fire.
Chaos erupted in the classroom. Students leapt from their seats, shouting and pushing towards the door. Through the commotion, Tyson noticed Clark remained seated, wiping his face with a shaking hand.
"Ok, everybody, walk, do not run!" Miss Atkins called out. "Leave your books. Let's go!"
As students filed out of the room, Tyson looked around. This was a lab classroom; there had to be a fire extinguisher. He spotted the red canister in the back corner. He grabbed the fire extinguisher. Aiming at the burning screen, he pulled the pin and squeezed the lever. A stream of white foam shot out, quickly smothering the flames. The acrid smell of smoke mixed with the chemical scent of the extinguisher filled the room. He continued spraying until he was certain the fire was out. As the foam settled, he lowered the extinguisher and turned to survey the damage.
The classroom was empty save for Clark, who stood frozen by his desk, staring at the ruined screen with a mixture of horror and confusion on his face.
"Clark? You alright, man?"
Clark blinked, seeming to snap out of his daze. He looked at Tyson, then back at the screen, his expression a jumble of emotions Tyson couldn't quite decipher.
"I... I don't know what happened," he said.
"It's a good thing you aimed for the projector. I thought you'd burn a hole in Ms. Atkins's clothes if you stared any harder." Tyson said with a laugh.
Before either of them could say anything more, the sound of approaching footsteps approached from the hallway. The school resource officer peered into the room, scanning the smoke-filled space. Tyson held up the fire extinguisher with a triumphant grin.
"We put it out," he declared proudly.
The officer nodded. "Good job. Now get outside with the other students."
Tyson saluted playfully and handed off the fire extinguisher as he left the room. Clark trailed behind him, lost in thought, his brow furrowed as if trying to piece together a complex puzzle.
Outside, the summer air was thick with excitement and lingering tension. Students milled about gossiping. A firetruck pulled up, and firefighters spilled out, rushing into the building. For the next twenty minutes, Tyson, Clark, and the rest of the students waited as the firefighters inspected the school.
Suddenly, a horn blared behind them. Heads turned as a sleek silver Lamborghini Countach pull up. The door flew open, and Lex Luthor climbed out in a hurry.
Clark's face lit up when he saw his friend. "Hey, Lex!" he called out.
Lex rushed toward where Clark, Tyson, and Pete were standing. But to everyone's surprise, he barely acknowledged Clark's presence, instead making a beeline for Miss Atkins, who stood nearby.
"Hi!" Desiree called out, her voice warm and inviting.
"Hi," Lex replied. The two embraced and kissed tenderly, oblivious to the stunned looks around them. Lex's face was a mask of concern as he pulled back. "Are you alright?"
Pete and Clark exchanged looks of confusion.
Desiree smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine," she said, "One of the students kept a cool head and put out the fire."
Lex pointed out Clark and said, "Let me guess. The young Mr. Kent. He saved me from a car accident not too long ago. He's becoming quite the local hero."
Ms. Atkins pointed to the boy next to Clark, "Come here for a second," she instructed. "Actually, it wasn't Clark. It was this young man, his name is..."
"Tyson. Why am I not surprised? If I had a second guess, it would've been you. I'm grateful."
"Grateful enough to let me borrow your car for a date?" Tyson quipped in response.
Clark, however, looked utterly baffled. "And I'm confused," he muttered.
Lex grinned broadly, suddenly remembering his manners. "You're right, and I'm sorry," he said, turning to Desiree. "I'd like you to meet Desiree Atkins. My fiancé. As for letting you borrow my car, I'll think about it."
Desiree smiled at Clark and Tyson, her eyes twinkling. Clark's jaw dropped in shock and disbelief.
Tyson chimed in, "Congratulations. Your wife is smoking..." He paused for effect. "Get it, fire joke… Too soon?"
Pete laughed while Clark shook his head, still processing the news. Lex seemed unperturbed by the joke, his eyes never leaving Desiree's.
In the background, a fireman declared, "All clear," and students began to file back into the school. Desiree squeezed Lex's hand goodbye, though he seemed reluctant to let go. "See you in class, Clark," she said before heading toward the building.
Clark and Lex watched her go, their expressions a study in contrasts. Clark's face was confused, while Lex's radiated love and adoration.
"Fiancé, huh?" Clark said, coming to stand beside Lex.
Lex continued to stare after Desiree. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." Suddenly, he snapped out of his reverie and rifled through his jacket pockets. "Oh... I was going to have this messengered, but since you're here..."
He handed Clark a small white envelope. Clark looked at him in surprise before taking it and opening it. Inside was a card adorned with two engraved wedding rings on the front.
"It's a wedding invitation," Clark said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "For this weekend."
"I know it's short notice."
"I don't know what to say."
"You're supposed to say you'll be there," Lex replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Clark glanced around, still processing the information. "Well, I'm surprised..." He trailed off, seeing on Lex's face how much it meant to him to have Clark there. Finally, he relented. "...and I'll be there."
Lex's face broke into a wide smile. "Good," he said, clapping Clark on the shoulder. He started to head back toward his car, calling back, "Better get back to class. You never know when the next fire may erupt."
As Lex climbed back into his Lamborghini, Clark studied the invitation. His eyes drifted to the school building, and he watched with concern as Desiree disappeared inside.
Tyson, who had been observing the exchange nearby, noted that now that he was looking closely, Lex had the barest hints of a green aura around him, too. He realized it was always there; he just dismissed it when he'd first seen the man again at the pie stand. Maybe it was because he was too busy trying to dissuade Lex from noticing him. A bit late for that.
His thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a stern-faced man in a red jacket with 'Coach' emblazoned on the breast.
"Principal's office. Let's go."
"Now?" he asked. The coach nodded curtly. Tyson said, "I'd rather go back to Ms. Atkin's class."
"Yeah, me too, kid. I'd also rather not deal with this, but neither of us is getting what we want." The coach held the entrance door open, gesturing for Tyson to go first. Behind him, Clark, Chloe, Pete, and Lana were the last few stragglers.
"Hey, Kent," Coach Walt called out. "You've gotten bigger. Farm life is doing your body good. You look like you've got a lot of power."
Clark turned, smiling slyly. "Thanks!"
Coach Walt's eyes gleamed with interest. "So why aren't you on our team?"
Clark's smile faltered slightly. "My dad needs me on the farm."
"Well, your school needs you on the field," Coach Walt pressed. "We got a big game on Friday night. We're short players." He leaned in, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Look, look, I know your dad would understand."
Clark shifted uncomfortably. "He's kind of stubborn."
"Yeah, I remember. Jonathan Kent was one of the best athletes I ever coached. A lot of God-given talent." He clapped Clark on the shoulder. "It's in your genes, Kent."
"Actually, I'm adopted."
"Look, I'm giving you a chance to be a part of something special, a part of history." He gestured towards the nearby trophy case. "Now, I've seen you stare at your father's picture in that trophy case. Don't tell me you don't want to be a part of this." Clark's eyes flickered to the case. "Why don't you suit up?" Coach Walt continued, then jerked his thumb towards Pete. "Look at Ross here. He doesn't have a lick of natural talent, but he's got a truckload of heart."
Pete, standing nearby, grimaced. "Thanks, I... I guess."
Clark hesitated, "Let me think about it."
Coach Walt's eyes narrowed. "Hmm. Boy your size, you're not afraid, are you?"
"It's my Dad."
"Kent, there comes a time when you gotta step out of your father's shadow and be your own man." He locked eyes with Clark. "Now what do you say? You ready to be your own man?"
Clark glanced at Lana, then back at Coach Walt. "Count me in."
Lana rolled her eyes and sighed, clearly disapproving of Clark's decision.
Coach Walt's face lit up with triumph. "Good. I'll see you at practice today. Three o'clock. Don't be late." Then he turned and walked away with Tyson in tow.
As they left, Pete looked at Clark in disbelief. He pointed at his ear and jokingly asked, "Hey, Clark. Hey, um, remind me what your dad said last time you asked him to play."
Clark's smile faded. "He said no."
Pete nodded, his voice bland. "He said no. That's what I thought." He patted Clark on the shoulder sympathetically. "Good luck convincing him otherwise."
The bell rang, signaling the next period. Students filed back to their classrooms. But he stood there for a moment, glancing once more at the trophy case, his father's photo staring back at him.
Meanwhile, Tyson found himself being led away by Coach Walt.
"What's this about?" he asked. "Doesn't seem like you're rewarding me for putting out the fire."
"We'll discuss it in a few minutes."
When they reached the principal's office, the coach knocked firmly on the door. A muffled "Come in" sounded from inside, and the coach opened the door, ushering Tyson in ahead of him.
Principal Kwan sat behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him. To Tyson's surprise, Whitney Fordman was already there, looking uncomfortable.
"Have a seat, Tyson," Principal Kwan said, gesturing to the empty chair next to Whitney. The coach took up a position by the door, arms crossed over his chest. Principal Kwan cleared his throat. "Tyson, I'm sure you're aware of the article in the Torch about the... incident at the dance."
"We take hazing allegations very seriously at Smallville High," he continued. "Coach Walt and I have been discussing the situation, and we felt it was necessary to address this with both of you present."
Whitney shifted in his seat, finally looking up. "I already told you it was just a prank. We didn't mean any harm."
Principal Kwan held up a hand, silencing any further outbursts. "Tyson, we'd like to hear your side of the story. Can you tell us exactly what happened that night?"
"It happened pretty much like the article said. Whitney and some other guys from the football team jumped me. They took my clothes, painted an 'S' on my chest, and left me tied up in that field."
Coach Walt's face darkened as Tyson spoke, his jaw clenching visibly.
"And how did you get free?" Principal Kwan asked.
Tyson hesitated for a moment, remembering Lex Luthor's timely arrival. "One of the employees at the nearby LuthorCorp plant found me and cut me down."
Principal Kwan nodded, making a note on a pad. "Whitney, do you have anything to add?"
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It was stupid, and we shouldn't have done it. But it's just a tradition. It's been happening for years."
Principal Kwan responded, "Gentlemen, this is a serious matter. Hazing has no place in our school, regardless of how long it's been occurring. Whitney, you and the other students involved will face disciplinary action. We're still determining the extent of that action."
Tyson's eyes narrowed as the principal spoke. He realized that this was the perfect chance to get revenge on Whitney. "Principal Kwan, you seem to take hazing seriously. Do you take hate crimes seriously, too?"
Whitney's head snapped up. His face paled visibly, and his eyes widened in surprise and growing alarm.
"Of course," he answered, clearly caught off guard by Tyson's direct accusation. "We take all forms of discrimination and harassment very seriously.
Coach Walt said, "What exactly are you implying?"
"A new black student starts at Smallville and gets picked for a hazing ritual on his first day. That's not just random selection. It's targeting. How many black students are in this school? The only one I've seen besides myself is Pete Ross, and he's on the football team."
Whitney's face flushed red. "That's not true!" he protested, turning to face Tyson. "It had nothing to do with race. We've done this to plenty of guys before."
"Lack of options," Tyson countered. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and ask, how many black students have come through here and haven't been on the football team?"
Coach Walt stepped forward. "Now, hold on a minute," he said defensively. "Whitney's not like that. None of my boys are. All of this is just a misunderstanding."
Principal Kwan said, "These are serious allegations."
Coach Walt's face was a mask of concern. "Now, let's not jump to conclusions here," he said, "Whitney's a good kid. He's never shown any signs of prejudice before. This whole thing has just gotten blown out of proportion."
Kwan held up a hand, silencing the coach. "We can't dismiss these allegations simply because Whitney has a clean record."
Whitney slumped in his chair, his face a mixture of shame and fear. "I swear, I didn't mean for it to be like that," he said, "I just wanted to keep the tradition going. I didn't think about it like that. I didn't realize..."
"That's the problem," Tyson interrupted, "You didn't think. You didn't consider how it might feel for someone like me to be singled out, beaten, and strung up in a field."
The room fell silent at Tyson's words.
He looked at Whitney, who seemed genuinely remorseful, then back to Principal Kwan.
"Seeing Whitney's response, I think I understand," Tyson said, "I don't think his actions were racially motivated." The tension in the room visibly eased. Whitney's shoulders sagged with relief while Coach Walt uncrossed his arms, his defensive posture relaxing. Tyson continued, "Part of the problem is the demographic here isn't diverse enough for the students to be sensitive to such things. Hopefully, this incident opens some eyes." He turned to face Principal Kwan directly. "I'm not looking to get Whitney, the other players, or even the team in trouble. I spoke with Pete Ross. He said that Whitney wasn't a bad person. Since he hasn't caused any problems for you in the past, I'm willing to accept that this was nothing more than a prank."
Whitney's head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Really?" he asked.
Tyson nodded. Principal Kwan leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I appreciate your willingness to move past this, Tyson. However, as the principal of this school, I can't simply overlook what happened. There needs to be consequences for these actions, regardless of intent."
"What if we used this as a learning opportunity?" Tyson suggested. "Instead of punishing the football players, you could have them participate in a diversity awareness program."
Coach Walt nodded, warming to the idea. "That could work."
Principal Kwan considered this for a moment before nodding slowly. "That's an excellent suggestion. We could bring in speakers or organize workshops. It could be a real chance for growth for our entire student body."
Tyson suggested, "Having Whitney involved might encourage other students to take it seriously."
Principal Kwan smiled, clearly pleased with how the situation was resolving. "I think we have the beginnings of a plan here. Whitney, you and the other students involved will still face some consequences for your actions, but I'll consider your participation in organizing this diversity awareness program."
Principal Kwan's expression turned serious. "I'll be issuing a formal statement condemning the scarecrow tradition and making it clear that any student found participating in such hazing activities will face severe disciplinary action."
Whitney shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Some of the older students and alumni might not like that," he said hesitantly.
"Look, I get it." Tyson said, "The scarecrow thing is a long-standing tradition. But we're not living in the 1960s anymore. The world has changed, and it's time for this to change. Instead of leaving some poor kid alone in a field, why not take a scarecrow and dress it up in your rival's colors? You could tie it to the scoreboard for the whole school to see at the big game. Make it something to take pride in, to look forward to, rather than a cruel act that gets swept under the rug. You've got a chance to reshape a hazing ritual into a new tradition that celebrates school spirit. Don't you see? You could transform something negative into a source of pride for Smallville High."
Whitney stared at Tyson, hesitation slowly giving way to dawning consideration. "A mock scarecrow..." he murmured.
"It would sure beat slinking around some field. And think how fired up the crowd would get seeing that scarecrow hanging from the scoreboard. The whole school could get behind it."
Whitney sat up straighter in his chair. "Yeah… yeah, that could work. I think the guys would go for it, too. It'd beat getting suspended."
Principal Kwan stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I must admit, I like the idea of taking a negative tradition and giving it a positive spin. What do you think, Coach Walt?"
The coach grinned and clapped Tyson on the shoulder. "I think it's brilliant. With the right promotion, this could energize school spirit around here." he added, "I'll talk to the alumni association."
Principal Kwan stood up, signaling that the meeting was ending. "I think we've made some real progress here today. Tyson and Whitney, thank you for your maturity in handling this situation. I'll be in touch about the diversity awareness program and the statement regarding the scarecrow tradition."
As they exited Principal Kwan's office into the empty hallway, tension lingered between Tyson and Whitney.
"Why'd you change your mind?" Whitney asked uncertainly.
"Because I'm not out to ruin your life, Whitney," he said, "You wanted to make an example of me, and I made an example of you. Now we're even." He started to walk away but then stopped and turned back. His voice took on a harder edge as he added, "And if any of your boys come after me again, I'm not gonna be so nice." Whitney's eyes widened slightly at the implied threat, but he remained silent. As he resumed walking away, Tyson called over his shoulder, "Have fun with your extra sprints and event organizing."
Tyson disappeared around the corner, leaving Whitney reeling from the conversation, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. He had stood his ground, made his point, and turned the situation into something potentially positive for the school. Turning a corner, he nearly collided with Chloe, who was hurrying in the opposite direction.
"Tyson!" she exclaimed. "What happened in the principal's office? Spill!"
Tyson couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Easy there. It's not exactly front-page news."
Chloe's eyes narrowed playfully. "Everything's front-page news in Smallville, especially when it involves our newest celebrity." She gestured to an empty classroom nearby. "Come on, give me the scoop. What did Principal Kwan say? Is Whitney getting expelled?"
Tyson followed her into the classroom, closing the door behind them to avoid eavesdroppers. He leaned against a desk, crossing his arms as he considered how much to tell her.
"No one's getting expelled," he said finally. "We came to an... understanding."
Chloe's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "An understanding? What does that mean? Don't tell me you're going soft on them."
He held up a hand to stop her. "It's not like that, Chloe. We're still making changes. Principal Kwan will issue a statement condemning the scarecrow tradition, and they're creating a diversity awareness program."
Chloe's expression softened slightly, but she still looked skeptical. "That's a start, I guess. But what about Whitney and the other guys involved? They're just getting off scot-free?"
"Not exactly. They'll face some consequences, and they'll be the ones organizing the diversity program. I figured that would be more productive than just punishing them."
Chloe considered this for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I see what you're going for. Make them part of the solution instead of treating them like the problem. Pretty clever." She nodded but still had a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, I still think this whole thing deserves an in-depth article in the Torch. Care to go on record with any statements, Mr. Reformer?"
"Nice try, Chloe. But I think I've had enough of the spotlight for now. Let's let the dust settle before we stir things up again, okay?"
Chloe pouted playfully. "Fine, be that way. But don't think you're off the hook."
Tyson sighed in mock defeat. "Alright, Chloe, you win. I've got a story for you."
Chloe spun on him, her eyes lighting up like a child on Christmas morning. "What's the scoop?" she asked, practically bouncing on her toes.
Tyson leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Chloe Sullivan and Pete Ross dancing a little close. The newest football recruit and the Torch's editor, dancing in the dark."
Chloe's face turned red. She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Oh God, you saw that?"
"I was naked, not blind." Tyson couldn't help but chuckle. "Don't dish it if you can't take it, Sullivan."
Chloe peeked through her fingers with a reluctant smile. She dropped her hands and shook her head, laughing despite herself. "Fine. You win this round."
"Hah. That makes me two and one today," Tyson said smugly.
Chloe's embarrassment was momentarily forgotten. as she asked, "What was your loss?"
Tyson's grin faltered slightly. "Shot down by Kara," he admitted, trying to keep his tone casual.
Chloe's jaw dropped. "You asked a billionaire on a date?"
Tyson shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Shot my shot and missed."
"Wait, wait, wait. You can't just drop that bomb and walk away. Spill the details. When did this happen? What exactly did you say to her?"
"It wasn't a big deal. We just talked at the farmer's market on Saturday. She seemed cool, so I thought I'd take a chance."
Chloe wasn't about to let him off that easily. "And? What happened next? Come on, Tyson, you can't leave me hanging like this!"
He chuckled, shaking his head at her persistence. "There wasn't much to it. I just came out and asked."
"Well, got to admire your confidence. Not many guys would have the guts to ask out a Luthor on their third day in town."
"Yeah, well, life's too short to wonder 'what if,' right?" Tyson said, trying to brush it off.
Chloe's expression softened slightly. "Hey, for what it's worth, I think it's cool that you went for it. And who knows? Maybe she'll change her mind once she gets to know you better."
"But speaking of getting to know people better..." She trailed off.
Tyson groaned, realizing where this was going. "Chloe, no. We are not talking about you and Pete."
"Oh, come on!" Chloe protested. "You can't just dangle that and then refuse to discuss it. That's torture!"
Tyson couldn't help but laugh at her dramatic response. "Fine, fine."
Chloe tried to appear casual despite the faint blush still coloring her cheeks. "How close is 'a little close'?" she buried her face in her hands again, but Tyson could see the smile she was trying to hide. "Oh God, was it really that obvious?"
"Only to someone who was paying attention," Tyson reassured her. "Which, unfortunately for you, I was. Don't worry, you're a cute couple. But I don't know if it's meant to be. You were flirting with me in class during that video, after all."
Chloe groaned again, "You know I was mocking the substitute teacher, Miss Hottie, or whatever her name is!"
Tyson laughed. "I don't know. You seemed kinda into it."
— Meteor Freak —