The Marked

PART ONE- Clark (1)

Thanks mom and dad for being the biggest freaking Superman fans the world has ever seen and naming your child after someone who flies around wearing underwear over his pants. It really earned me some playground cred in elementary school, but now it just sucked. Especially when I wasn't even Clark anymore. It was just "Hey Super-dweeb! Where's your tighty whities?" Because, really, that's just an amazing way to start of every single day of my high school experience.

And when I walked into school today, the day before my sixteenth birthday, and was asked the usual question, I suddenly wanted to turn around and give that jerk what he deserved. So I stopped and looked at the kid, fists clenched at my side. "I left them at your mom's house," I said calmly, to which he dropped his jaw and gaped at me. "That's right, Kameron, I'm sick and tired of being bullied by you. So what if my parents named me after Superman? So what if I'm smarter than most people? At least I'll get further in life than you will. So leave me alone, or else."

"Or else what, Clark? You gonna punch me?" he retaliated quickly as he stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "I'd really like to see you try."

I exhaled sharply and bit my tongue. I had a perfect record. I didn't want to let this deadbeat loser ruin everything for me. Without replying, I abruptly turned on my heel and took off towards my locker. Today seemed different than every other day. I felt different, stronger, more confident. Today was going to be good.

I walked home every day after school, even though it was a good forty-five minutes from my house. I had to get my exercise somehow, and I liked having time to myself. I liked to think about the future, going to college and someday winning a Nobel prize. I wasn't one to brag about my geniusness, but I also wasn't one to deny it.

Today was a perfect day. The wind was blowing only enough for a good breeze and it wasn't too cold or to hot. I was wearing one of my favorite outfits, which had nothing to do with superman. In fact, I never wore a single article of clothing that had to do with superman, or any superhero for that matter. I may have been a nerd, but I was not subjecting myself to even worse torture than I was already having to go through with Kameron. Being shoved against lockers, literally stuffed head first into trash cans, being crowded into the boys bathroom to get punched multiple times, and once even being pushed into the girls bathroom were all things I had to deal with in my life, all because of Kameron. Sure, he was hot and all, but he was a jerk who deserved to learn a lesson. Not that I was going to do anything about it, because he would probably kill me with one punch, but someone should've stood up to him.

When I finally got home after the long, but enjoyable walk, my parents were sitting in the living room. Most kids expected to come home to that. It was a normal setting in most homes, but not for my family. Usually my dad was at work, my mom was picking up Lex from the preschool, and I had the house to myself for at least a half an hour. Today was different. It even felt different.

"Mom, dad," I greeted, kicking the front door shut with my foot. I dropped my bag on the floor and slipped off my shoes. My socks were slightly wet from the few puddles I had accidentally stepped in on the way home, since yesterday was the most it had rained in months. "What's going on? You're both home early. Did something happen? Where's Lex?"

"He's at your grandparents' house, Clark. Can you sit down? We have to talk about tomorrow," my mom said, her face neutral at first, but then turning into somewhat of a smile.

"Tomorrow as in my birthday?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow as I walked around the couch and sat on the coffee table. I was surprised to not hear my mother scolding me for sitting on the furniture. That just helped the fact that I thought something was up with them. They weren't being themselves.

"Yes, Clark. Your sixteenth birthday. We have a big surprise for you," my dad answered, nodding his head slowly. I just stood up and carefully backed away, wanting to get out of there. They were starting to worry me. Had they eaten something bad? Were they sick? I tried to slip past them, but my dad clasped his fingers around my wrist, holding too tight to not leave a mark. "We're so excited for your big day."

"Me too, dad," I mumbled, and then I got the hell out of there.