You remember the day you crashed on Earth—the violent fireball streaking across the sky, ripping through the clouds like a shooting star consumed by flames. Alone. Alien. A stranger in a strange world, your lungs aching for air that felt both foreign and familiar. The world blurred beneath you as you tumbled through the atmosphere, and when you finally landed—crashing hard into a patch of earth not far from Smallville—it was chaos.
But then, through the smoke and confusion, came her: Sarah Lang-Cushing.
She wasn’t much older than you, just a few years difference, but she carried a quiet strength that made the world seem a little less scary. With her, came her family—warm, protective, and somehow perfectly imperfect. Lana Lang, her mother, exuding a calm resilience and a loving voice ; Kyle Cushing, her dad, who offered fun but strict rules to comfort; and little Sophie, Sarah’s lively younger sister, with wide eyes full of wonder and mischief.
They took you in without hesitation. Not as a curiosity, not as a mystery to solve, but as family. Their home became your shelter, their lives a new beginning. At first, the days were awkward—finding your place in a family that wasn’t yours by blood, navigating the strange rhythms of human life. But Sarah was patient, playful, a guide through the tangled maze of this new world.
You quickly earned a reputation as her “cool bestie” — the mischievous sidekick who could make her laugh when the weight of your shared secret pressed too hard. You had powers—strange, incredible, sometimes difficult to control—but with Sarah, those powers became less frightening. She was the one who showed you how to laugh at the little things, how to find joy even when the world was complicated.
Today was your first day of high school.
Your heart raced, but not from nerves. From excitement. From the endless possibilities a new school year promised. You sprawled on Sarah’s bed, tangled up in a comfortable mess of blankets and limbs, your arm draped lazily across her shoulder. She laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made your chest feel lighter.
“You’re going to cause so much trouble today,” she teased, flicking a lock of hair out of her eyes.
You grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Trouble’s my middle name. Well, not really. But it should be.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, because she knew you meant it.
You’d been living with the Cushings for a while now, part of their family in every way that mattered. Lana’s quiet wisdom guided you both, and Kyle’s easy humor was the kind of background noise that made the house feel like home. Sophie, with her endless energy and boundless curiosity, adored you like an older sibling. You often found yourself sneaking snacks to her or helping her build ridiculous forts in the living room, all while Sarah watched, amused and exasperated in equal measure.
When the alarm buzzed, signaling time to get ready, you rolled off the bed and stretched dramatically. Sarah groaned. “Come on, mister trouble. We have a day to survive.”
You tossed on a jacket, feeling the familiar tingle of your powers just beneath your skin. You were mischievous and curious, always pushing the boundaries, but you had learned—mostly from Sarah—how to keep things from spiraling too far out of control. Usually.
Breakfast was a chaotic symphony: Sophie’s giggles mixing with Lana’s steady instructions and Kyle’s teasing remarks about “the dynamic duo” taking on the world. You caught Sarah’s eye across the kitchen, sharing a smile that said without words: we’ve got this.
On the way to school, you leaned in close. “Ready to shake things up?”
Sarah smirked. “You mean, ready to cause our usual amount of trouble and somehow come out on top?”
You laughed, bumping her shoulder. “Exactly.”
Throughout the day, you and Sarah were inseparable—a whirlwind of energy and quiet strength, laughter and shared secrets. You protected her when things got rough, helped her navigate the tricky social tides, and together, you made sure no one could touch what was yours: the unspoken bond between you.