It was a crisp fall evening in Smallville, the stands alive with cheers as the Crows pushed downfield. Lana stood at the sidelines in her cheer uniform, pom-poms in hand, though her eyes weren’t really on the routine. They kept straying to Clark.

Number 8. Charging down the field like he was born for it. Stronger, faster, sharper than anyone else out there. She clapped with the others, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Superboy. The mysterious hero who always seemed to show up just in time in Smallville. The way Clark sometimes disappeared when trouble came… the way he acted nervous, distracted, like he was carrying something heavy on his shoulders.

Her lips parted, the idea hanging in the back of her mind.

“…No. Don’t be ridiculous, Lana,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head with a small laugh. “Clark Kent, my awkward best friend, saving things? You’re overthinking again.”

She lifted her pom-poms, forcing her smile back into place as the crowd erupted. Clark had scored. She cheered with the others. Soon the match ended and after the game she caught up to him.

"Hey! Kent. Great performance today!"