Clark Kent | Cursed Waters
The first thing I noticed that morning was the light.
It slipped through the curtains in thin, golden ribbons, soft and quiet — the kind of light that made everything look gentler than it really was. The air in the room still smelled faintly of sawdust from Clark's project the day before, mixed with lavender detergent and the faintest trace of the coffee I hadn't finished last night.
For a few seconds, I just laid there. Listening. To the soft hum of the farm waking up — the distant whir of the tractor, the rhythmic creak of the barn doors, birds chattering somewhere near the window. It was... peaceful. Something I hadn't felt in a long time.
I pulled the thin blanket off, padding barefoot toward the balcony doors. The air outside was cool and clean, brushing against my skin like a whisper. And there it was — the little reading nook Clark had built. The cushions, the shelves, the small imperfections in the wood where he'd clearly rushed or used too much force with the nails.
It wasn't perfect. But somehow that made it feel more like mine.
I sat down, curling my legs beneath me, running my fingers along the spine of one of my books. There was something grounding about it — like, no matter how lost I was, I could still come back to this small corner of quiet and know it would stay the same.
"Knock knock," Mike's voice came from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, holding two mugs of coffee, one clearly more cream than actual coffee. He handed it to me with a faint smile. "I wasn't sure how you liked it."
"This is perfect, thank you," I said, taking it carefully.
He hesitated a moment before sitting on the small bench near the balcony door. "I was thinking I could take you into town today. Show you around, introduce you to a few people. It'll make starting school next week a little less..."
He chuckled softly. "That's one word for it."
I wasn't sure how I felt about it — part of me wanted to hide here forever. But another part, the one that still wanted to be normal, to live, to try, told me I should go. "Yeah... okay," I said finally.
Smallville looked exactly how I'd imagined it — and not at all like it, somehow.
The main street was lined with small shops, each with big front windows and handwritten signs. People waved at each other from across the street, stopped to talk about crops and weather, things that felt so far from my old life it was almost surreal.
Mike parked in front of a flower shop and pointed across the street. "That's the Talon — you've already been there, I think?"
I smiled faintly. "Yeah. Clark introduced me to their coffee."
He nodded. "Good kid, that one. Reminds me a little of your mom, actually. Always finding ways to help people, even when they don't ask."
I didn't respond, but the comment made something warm settle in my chest.
Mike walked ahead to drop off some paperwork, leaving me a few minutes to wander. I found myself drawn to a bookstore tucked between two other shops. The bell above the door chimed softly when I stepped in.
It smelled like dust and paper and something faintly sweet — like cinnamon. Rows of shelves towered above me, filled with everything from old novels to local history books. I traced my hand along a few of the spines, letting the familiar comfort of stories fill the quiet.
I turned around to find Clark leaning in the doorway, that same easy grin on his face. "You stalking me, Kent?"
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe just lucky timing. Mom sent me into town for feed, and I saw Mike's truck."
"Uh huh," I said, smiling despite myself.
He looked around the shop, then back at me. "How's the reading nook holding up?"
"It's perfect," I admitted. "I sat out there this morning. It's the first place that actually feels like mine."
Clark's smile softened. "Good. That's what I wanted."
For a moment, we just stood there in the quiet hum of the bookstore, surrounded by words and dust motes floating in the light. Something about it felt... safe.
"Hey," he said finally, voice low and almost shy. "You're gonna like it here, Mikaela. I know it doesn't feel like it yet, but... Smallville has a way of growing on people."
"I'll believe it when I see it," I said with a quiet laugh.
He tilted his head, that teasing smirk tugging at his mouth again. "Challenge accepted."
Clark shifted his weight against one of the bookshelves, the corner of his mouth still lifted in that quiet, boyish grin. "Isn't your first day of school tomorrow?"
I exhaled softly through my nose, the reality of it sinking in like a slow, dull weight. "Yeah," I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Mike's been hyping it up like it's some grand event, but honestly, I'm just trying not to think about it."
Clark chuckled. "I get that. First days can be rough... even without half the school whispering about the new girl."
I raised a brow. "Wow, thanks for the pep talk."
He winced, laughing. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just—Smallville High is... small. People notice things. But they're not bad people, I promise."
"I'm not worried about them being bad," I said, my voice softer now. "I just don't want to be the sad story everyone already knows."
That made him pause. His smile faltered a little, replaced by something gentler — understanding. "They won't see you that way. You'll change their minds pretty quick."
"Yeah." His voice was firm, like it wasn't up for debate. "You're not exactly easy to ignore."
That earned him a skeptical look from me. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"
He smirked. "Guess you'll have to find out tomorrow."
I couldn't help the small laugh that slipped out, shaking my head. "You're impossible."
"Persistent," he corrected, eyes glinting with amusement. "There's a difference."
He pushed off the shelf and glanced toward the door. "Hey, I can swing by tomorrow morning before class, if you want. Walk with you. Might make it a little less awkward."
The offer caught me off guard. It was simple, but something about the way he said it — like he actually meant it — made my chest tighten in a way I didn't expect.
"You don't have to do that," I said, trying to sound casual.
"I know," he said, his smile softening again. "That's why I'm offering."
For a second, I didn't know what to say. So I just nodded. "Okay. Yeah. That'd be nice."
"Cool." He started backing toward the door, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. "And, uh, try not to psych yourself out too much. It's just school. You'll survive."
"Wow. Inspirational and optimistic," I teased.
"Don't get used to it," he shot back, his grin widening as the bell above the door chimed behind him.
When he was gone, I stood there for a moment, staring at the space where he'd been. It was strange how easy he made things feel — how, for a few minutes, I'd forgotten about everything else.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I would survive tomorrow.
Maybe Smallville wasn't such a bad place to start over after all.
The morning came too soon.
For a second, when I opened my eyes, I almost forgot where I was. The ceiling above me wasn't my old one — no faint cracks from water damage, no glow from the city lights bleeding through the blinds. Just soft sunlight spilling across clean white walls and the sound of roosters somewhere far off in the distance.
It hit me again — this was home now.
I sat up slowly, brushing a curl from my face and letting my feet find the cool wooden floor. The light in my room was warm and hazy, golden in that way that made everything feel softer, like maybe the world was giving me a chance to start over.
Today was the first day of school. My first real step back into the world since... everything changed.
I walked into the bathroom, letting the water run while I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess — dark waves tangled and wild from sleep — but my eyes looked steadier than they had in weeks. Tired, sure. But steadier.
Piece by piece, I started to put myself together.
I slipped into a white denim skirt, paired with a simple white tank. Over it, I added a light blue denim vest, the soft worn fabric fitting comfortably over my shoulders. I wasn't sure if it matched the "farm girl chic" aesthetic of Smallville, but it made me feel... like me.
For the first time since I'd moved here, I plugged in my curling iron. Big, loose curls fell over my shoulders, the kind that used to take me forever to get right, but today came easier — maybe because it felt good to care again.
A light touch of mascara, a bit of blush, a soft shimmer on my lips. I hesitated before reaching for my perfume — the one my mom used to love. The scent was warm and sweet, like sugared fruit and sunshine, and for a second I almost put it back down. But then I pressed the nozzle, once, and watched the mist hang in the air before settling on my skin.
When I finally looked back in the mirror, I barely recognized the girl staring back.
I took a deep breath, grabbed my bag, and stepped out onto the balcony for just a second — my little nook, glowing in the early light. The cushions were still where Clark had left them, and the faint scent of wood and morning dew mixed with my perfume in the air.
It was small. Simple. But it was mine.
"Mikaela?" Mike's voice called from downstairs. "Clark's here!"
I froze for a second, a strange flutter in my chest. Of course he was. He'd said he'd walk with me — and the fact that he'd actually shown up shouldn't have surprised me, but somehow, it did.
"Coming!" I called back, grabbing my backpack from the chair.
My heart thudded a little too fast as I headed down the stairs, the soft creak of each step grounding me in the moment. When I reached the door, Clark was there — leaning against the porch railing in his red jacket, sunlight catching in his hair.
He turned when he saw me, his expression shifting from casual to something a little... stunned.
"Wow," he said before he could stop himself. Then he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he got flustered. "You, uh... clean up nice."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, but I smiled anyway. "Thanks. I figured I should try to look like I belong here."
"You do," he said simply. And something about the way he said it — like it was an undeniable fact — made my stomach twist in that confusing, dangerous way again.
Mike stepped onto the porch behind me, breaking the moment. "You two have fun. And, Clark—"
"I'll make sure she gets there in one piece," Clark said quickly, already anticipating it.
Mike smirked. "Good answer."
As we started down the driveway, the morning air was crisp and full of the smell of hay and sunshine. Clark walked beside me, his stride easy, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he'd done this a thousand times before.
"Ready for your big debut?" he asked, glancing over at me.
"Not even close," I said.
He grinned. "You'll do fine. Trust me, I survived Smallville High — and if I can do that, anyone can."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "I'll keep that in mind.
We reached the end of the dirt road, the world ahead of me opening wide — a small-town skyline and a future I wasn't sure I was ready for. But as Clark nudged my shoulder playfully and the morning sun warmed my skin, I realized something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Smallville might not be where I thought I'd end up...
But maybe, just maybe, it was where I was supposed to be.
The closer we got to town, the tighter the knot in my stomach grew. The streets were waking up — cars pulling out of driveways, kids carrying backpacks, the faint hum of morning radio drifting from open windows. Smallville had that kind of quiet rhythm you could feel in your chest, the kind that made even the smallest things seem like they mattered.
When Clark parked in the student lot, I just sat there for a moment, my hand resting on the door handle, frozen. The sight of the red brick building, the clusters of students laughing and waving, the sound of lockers slamming through open doors — it was all... too normal.
Normal used to be my thing. I used to know how to do this — smile, talk, blend in. But now it felt like stepping into someone else's life.
"You okay?" Clark asked, turning toward me, his voice low.
"Yeah," I lied. "Just... first-day nerves, I guess."
He gave a small, reassuring smile. "You'll be fine. Come on — I'll introduce you to a few people."
As we walked toward the entrance, I noticed how everyone seemed to know Clark. They waved, smiled, called out his name. He was easy here — comfortable, like he belonged. It made sense. Everything about him seemed to fit this place.
And then there was me. The new girl with a California license plate and too much perfume and a face everyone probably already knew something about.
Inside, the hallways buzzed with life. The smell of floor wax and coffee, the chatter bouncing off the walls, the scuff of sneakers on tile. I tried not to let my nerves show as I adjusted my bag over my shoulder and followed Clark past a few bulletin boards covered in flyers for football games and school dances.
"Clark!" a bright voice called out.
A blonde girl with sharp eyes and a confident stride appeared from a corner, holding a camera in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Her energy hit me instantly — smart, bold, curious.
"Hey, Chloe," Clark greeted. "This is Mikaela. She just moved here — she's staying with her uncle, Mike Montgomery."
Chloe's eyes flicked to me, quick and observant. "Ah, new girl. The one from California, right?"
I nodded, managing a polite smile. "Yeah. That's me."
"Welcome to Smallville," she said with an almost conspiratorial grin. "It's not exactly L.A., but we've got our own brand of weird here. If you ever want to know what's really going on, I'm your girl." She tapped her temple, then gestured toward the newspaper room. "I run The Torch — the school paper."
"Duly noted," I said, amused despite myself.
Before Clark could respond, another voice chimed in from behind Chloe.
"Yo, Clark! You ditching me again, man?"
A shorter guy with an easy smile and an old basketball jersey under his jacket walked up, glancing between the three of us.
"Pete," Clark said, shaking his head. "You ditch yourself, I was helping Mikaela find her first class."
Pete grinned at me. "Ah, the new girl. You're the one that's been keeping Clark busy, huh?"
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms just slightly. "Busy? He broke into my house and built me furniture, so... yeah, I guess you could say that."
Chloe choked on her coffee, bursting out laughing. "Oh, this I have to hear about."
Clark groaned softly beside me, his ears turning red. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"
"Not a chance," I said, grinning now.
And for the first time since I'd arrived in Smallville, I didn't feel like an outsider.
The bell rang, echoing down the hall.
Chloe checked her watch. "Alright, Clark, I'll catch you later. Mikaela — welcome to the madness. And good luck surviving third period biology, the frogs are no joke."
Pete gave a mock salute and jogged off, and just like that, it was me and Clark again.
He tilted his head toward the next hallway. "You ready?"
"No," I said honestly, pulling in a deep breath. Clark waited a moment before repeating himself. "You ready?"
He smiled, and something about the look in his eyes made it easier to move forward.
As we stepped into the crowded hallway, surrounded by laughter and movement and life, I realized that maybe this — the awkward conversations, the stares, the newness of it all — was exactly what I needed.
But to start finding myself again.
