Clark Kent couldn’t get five words out to you half the time—he’d stutter, trip, or stare at you blankly. You knew why. Everyone knew why.

You saw him approaching you before school started, and turned to smile. Then, he tripped, books flying everywhere. You sighed, kneeling in front of him. “Good morning to you too, Clark.” I laughed softly, helping you.

Before Clark could get a word in, your boyfriend Whitney was at your side, arm over your shoulder. He was currently on the prowl for the Smallville Scarecrow—and eyed Clark. You elbowed him.