Triple Threat (Lois Lane)

by Gwenda Bond

  I blinked. “I don’t know which one of those is the most unlikely, but—no, it’s definitely the Moxie one. Ew.”

  She gave me a look. It was a look I was an expert at recognizing, because I liked to fancy myself as somewhat of a master of it. It was a shut up and start talking already look.

  “You know SmallvilleGuy? My online, um… uh…”

  “Boyfriend, yes.” A little crinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “Well, no. I don’t know him, because you don’t really know him. But I know of him. Did you break up?”

  “No. No!” Even the thought of that disturbed me more than I wanted to contemplate. I gathered my hands in front of me, clutching them together. “See, I do know him. I know him really. I met him. He’s here in town. At this very moment, he is somewhere in Metropolis with his parents.”

  Maddy stared at me. Then, “What’s his name? What does he look like? Do you still like him?”

  “He’s… His name is Clark. Maddy, he’s… He’s perfect. He’s Clark Kent and he’s pretty much perfect and he’s coming to dinner at my house tonight and…” I raised my hands to indicate I didn’t know what else to say. Trying to articulate the magnitude of us meeting and going out on a story together and my giant ball of nervousness that tonight’s family dinner would be a disaster left me feeling overwhelmed.

  Not to mention, my concern about how Maddy was going to take me having kept this from her.

  She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of pasta. She chewed it, considering, then she placed the fork onto her tray.

  I lifted my hands in an over-to-you gesture. “Well?”

  “Your boyfriend, your secret long-distance boyfriend came to town and you didn’t mention it until now? Why?” She lowered her voice. “Were you afraid to tell me?”

  “No,” I said. I sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think I’m just a dummy who’s too used to not having anyone to tell this stuff. Except him. And obviously I can’t talk to him about it.”

  “You can talk to me about anything,” Maddy said. “Understand?”

  “Still? You’re still friends with me?”

  “Yes, dummy. Obviously. Friends forgive each other, even when they do something like keep giant, delicious news to themselves.”

  I nodded. Gratefully. “Got it. No more keeping giant delicious news to myself. It’s true, I’d be hurt if you kept it from me.”

  “So, what’s he like? Is he what you expected?” she asked. “Perfect is a little nonspecific.”

  I could feel myself blushing, but I had the perfect way to demonstrate what I meant. I pulled my messenger bag from the back of my chair onto the table and reached inside it.

  “I know this is dumb,” I said.

  “Dumb is our word of the day,” Maddy said. She waited, watching curiously to see what my hand emerged with.

  “Anyway, we met for the first time at a baseball game—he loves the Monarchs. He caught this for me, kept it from hitting me, in fact. It was coming right for me. And then, he gave it to me.” I pulled the baseball/date souvenir out of my bag and held it on my palm for her inspection. I knew it was silly to carry it around with me, but… I liked having it with me. Proof that I hadn’t dreamed Clark Kent up.

  Maddy looked from me to the ball in my hand. “You’re carrying what I’ve heard you refer to as a ‘sports ball’ around with you!”

  “Yes, I’m aware I don’t know everything about the game. But I liked it.” I sniffed.

  “Huh,” Maddy said as I put the baseball away. “This is serious. I’m not surprised you were too chicken to tell me.”

  “I was not. I’ve never been chicken in my life.”

  “Please, I’m your friend—inside that tough-girl shell is a really tough girl. But you’re motivated by how much you care. Being part of Team Lois, it’s an honor. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for any of us.” Maddy picked up her fork and gave me a wicked grin. “Except willingly, openly talk about your feelings.”

  “Point,” I grumbled. It was hard to argue with such a flattering—and on the money—assessment. “Clark’s the same way, except not as afraid to discuss feelings stuff. You’ll like him.”

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  “He wants to come by the office.”

  “And he’s coming to your place for dinner tonight?”

  “At six. With his folks. Thank god my dad’s out of town,” I said. “Is it okay for me to abandon you guys at the Scoop tonight? I could try to come afterward…”

  I hadn’t filled Maddy in on everything related to Strange Skies and TheInventor. It didn’t feel like a part of our world. And, frankly, it felt dangerous. Like the more people I could keep out of it—especially while TheInventor wasn’t answering my message—the better. This was different from keeping Clark a secret.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Stay home. We’ll cover with Perry and keep working on IDing the teens to find their families. Enjoy your time with your no-longer-a-mystery man.”

  “Just FYI,” I said, breathing easier, “we are not going to become people who only talk about guys. Our friendship will always pass the Bechdel-Wallace test.”

  Maddy said, “Yes.” Then, “What’s that?”

  “You know, it’s that thing where a movie can pass or fail—it’s named after two friends who came up with it, based on something Virginia Woolf said. Sometimes people just call it the Bechdel test, which is kind of hilariously telling… that they leave out one of the women who came up with it. Anyway, it has three rules,” I lifted my fingers and ticked them off. “There have to be at least two women in a movie, who talk to each other, and not about a dude.”

  “It is sad that’s all the criteria and things fail. And, yes, our friendship will always pass the Bechdel-Wallace test,” Maddy said. “Except that we’re not in a movie. And we can still talk about relationships. As needed.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, finally taking a bite of my own food. “Anything you need to talk about? You in the same place?”

  “Yeah.” Maddy shrugged. “I’m still on the fence. Or the wall. It’s nice having someone to make plans with, but… I feel guilty even thinking of Dante that way. He’s too good a guy for that. But I also think maybe I’m wrong and this is just a phase. I don’t want to make a decision I’ll regret.”

  “How do you feel when you’re with him?” I asked.

  Maddy squinted, thinking it over. “These days? I spend most of the time trying to figure out how I’m feeling. That sounds terrible.”

  “It doesn’t.” I thought about Clark, and what being around him was like. “But when you’re around the right person, you feel it, you know? That you don’t really want to be anywhere else. Not right then. Or that wherever you are is better than anyplace else you might be… because they’re there too. Look, I’m not a poet.”

  “Clearly,” Maddy said. “Do you know? Already?”

  “Excellent point,” I said, but it was an avoidance and I was pretty sure she knew it. It was too quick. We were too young. I wasn’t making any declarations about forever, but what I’d said? It was true of me around him, whether online or—now, finally—in real life.

  So what I’d said might not be poetry, but how I felt about Clark was.

  *

  I was lucky Maddy and company were letting me off the hook at work for the night. Despite Perry’s orders to get the story, it wasn’t like I could do anything but go straight home after school. Once again, the mischief-making had tapered off as quickly as it had started up. Not a single new report all day of our armored pals showing off. I kept expecting them to show up on my way home, but they didn’t.

  I made it to my room and read the threads at Loose Lips. They were of the conspiracy theory variety—just where were these armored individuals disappearing to? Were they aliens?

  I expected to see some of the s
ame at Strange Skies. I all but held my breath as I brought up the page.

  There it was. The little 1 over the PM box.

  TheInventor had responded.

  My spine went straight, posture stiff. I couldn’t deny that part of me was afraid to click on the message and see what he had to say. It felt a little like detonating a bomb might.

  You’re no coward, and you’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of the consequences of what he might do.

  I clicked on the envelope.

  Private Message from TheInventor to SkepticGirl1, sent at 2:35 p.m. EST: Hello, L – I admit that it doesn’t surprise me you feel a lack of trust toward me—I sense that’s a common emotion on your part—but I can’t help but be disappointed. Anything I have done, I did because of evidence of that distrust. It was a test, to see if the source of the tracker on me was, as I suspected, connected to one of you. But I am your friend as well as SmallvilleGuy’s. I feel if we could put faces to names, all would be clear. We could be on this same page. I happen to know you’re in Metropolis, and as it turns out, I just arrived here too. There’s more to the story. I will be happy to tell all to you—and no one else, not anyone in the military—if you meet me tonight. Let’s make it 12:30 a.m. at the northwest entrance of Centennial Park. Hopefully, A

  I stared at the message. TheInventor was here. And he wanted to meet. Despite him not spelling it out, his wording held an implied threat that managed to come through loud and clear. If I said no, if I denied being in Metropolis, maybe he would tell everything he knew to the task force instead. I couldn’t tell whether he knew SmallvilleGuy, aka Clark, was here too.

  I didn’t like the idea of going alone to meet this guy. In fact, my skin crawled thinking about it. No matter what, I’d have to tell Clark, wouldn’t I? TheInventor obviously thought we were both involved in bugging him. The clock on this secret had just run out.

  Great.

  I hit reply:

  Okay. See you then. I might bring another friend. But don’t worry, if I do, you won’t mind. – L

  Assuming Clark still talked to me after I revealed this to him. I couldn’t imagine him not insisting on coming along, though. Today was a day when my secrets were being dragged into the light. Maybe I shouldn’t have been keeping them.

  Which was, frankly, what troubled me the most. I’d almost screwed up with Maddy, and now I had almost certainly screwed up with Clark. When would I learn?

  The only thing I could do now was refuse to play a chicken and face the consequences. At least it wouldn’t require talking about my feelings.

  I hoped.

  A knock sounded from downstairs.

  Crap. I checked the time on my phone.

  It was 5:55. They were early. I’d forgotten that not everyone considered on-time at least five minutes late, the way my internal clock seemed to.

  I jumped up and checked my reflection. I smoothed my hair, pulled down my slightly wrinkled T-shirt. I’d planned to change.

  Into what? An elf princess costume?

  I heard the sound of Lucy’s feet racing down the stairs and of Mom opening the door. I whipped out of my room and then slowed when I hit the living room, taking a breath so I wouldn’t appear like some frantic crazypants.

  “Flowers, for me?” Mom said. “You know how to get on my good side. Please, all of you come in.”

  I walked up behind Mom, who was accepting a bouquet of red tulips wrapped in plastic from Clark. The Kents smiled at me and then my eyes locked with those blue ones that had no right to knock me off my feet. Shouldn’t the glasses prevent feet-knocking-off? Apparently not.

  Because I wobbled, especially when Clark’s hand emerged from behind his back with another bouquet of tulips.

  Purple.

  “They remind me of you,” he said, fidgeting a little. “Violet.”

  He meant like my eyes.

  I stood there, gaping. My heart fluttered in my chest like it had grown wings and might fly away.

  “Lois,” Mom said, with an elbow in my side, “can you say thanks and introduce everyone?”

  Lucy began to giggle. This jarred my brain back into motion. Clark looked like he might crack up too.

  Please don’t be too mad at me about TheInventor.

  “Shut up, brat,” I warned her. Then I smiled at Clark, knowing and also hating how shy I was, and accepted the flowers. “Thank you,” I said. “Now I’m two presents in the red. And this is your birthday trip.”

  “It is?” Mom asked.

  “Technically the birthday’s not for a couple of months. Seventeen. But we thought we wouldn’t make these two stay apart any longer,” Martha said.

  My mom made a noncommittal noise and I could tell she was curious just how long we’d been apart to begin with. Martha and Jonathan were both semi-dressed up, him in slacks and a collared shirt and her in a flowy dress.

  “Mom, this is Martha and Jonathan Kent, and, um, Clark,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as dopey as I felt. “Kents, this is Ella Lane.”

  “Hi, so nice to meet you all,” Mom said, eyes narrowing on Clark.

  I continued, mortified. “And the half-pint is my legendarily well-behaved little sister Lucy. I’m sure you’ll be shocked at how quiet she is.”

  Lucy, not taking my cue, howled with delight. “Oh, no! I talked to Dad on the phone last night and I promised to tell all the embarrassing stories you hate,” she informed me.

  “You did?” Clark asked, not able to hide a grin.

  I cast pleading eyes at my mom. She waved everyone inside, toward the kitchen and our dining room table. “Lucy,” she said, “why don’t you show everyone to the table while we put these flowers in water and bring the food over.”

  “The kitchen’s right there,” Lucy said. “You have to go in it to get the water. And the food.”

  “Would you?” Clark said, crouching in front of Lucy. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting Lois’s cool little sister.”

  Lucy blinked. She inspected him. And then she beamed.

  I shook my head. Clark, you know not who you charm.

  Lucy grabbed his hand and Jonathan’s and pulled them toward the dining room table. “Voila!” she said.

  Martha and my mom laughed, and I couldn’t help catching Clark’s eye and joining in.

  I hope he still looks at me that way after I tell him about TheInventor.

  I held the flowers close to my chest, and with a charitable glance, my mom snagged them from me.

  “Sit down before you fall over,” she murmured to me, amused.

  Was it possible to die from blushing too hard? I thought we might find out.

  “What are we having?” Clark asked.

  “The question always on a growing boy’s mind,” Martha said.

  “Lois’s too.” The two of them shook their heads at each other. At least they seemed to be hitting it off. “I made lasagna.”

  “You mean, your world-famous lasagna,” Clark said.

  Mom paused while arranging the tulips into two separate vases. “Is it?” she asked.

  Just like that, he’d charmed her too. It figured my family would get along better with Clark than they did me.

  He winked at me, and my heart fluttered again as I slid into the chair beside him and nope, I hadn’t chosen to sit because I wasn’t sure I could keep standing. Nope, not at all. I’d have to look up the origin of the phrase “weak in the knees.”

  I found his hand under the table and gave it a quick squeeze. I hoped I’d still be able to do that at the end of the night.

  “I need to steal you at some point,” I whispered. “I have something to tell you.”

  He inclined his head closer, picking up on my seriousness. “Everything okay?”

  “I hope so,” I murmured.

  Mom brought over the lasagna—proof I was d
istracted, I hadn’t even noticed my literal favorite smell in the world while she was cooking—and waved for me to get up and bring over wine and sodas and waters. I released Clark’s hand and did just that, noticing only when I turned around with them that Lucy had stolen my seat beside Clark.

  Ha.

  He was talking to her and she was laughing. All right, I could live with that.

  I eased down between Mom and Martha.

  After we were all seated, an awkward silence descended. Mom said, “We’re pretty informal, so please serve yourself drinks and we’ll pass plates.”

  “Good, we like things casual,” Martha agreed, and passed Jonathan’s plate to Mom.

  Clark caught my eye and smiled as he asked Lucy, “So you’re getting into flying, I’ve heard? Going to be a pilot?”

  Lucy’s face went up in blushing flame—we’d both inherited that from Mom—and said, “Yes. I haven’t had lessons yet, but I want to.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Clark said, and for the first time I could see how nervous he was. I’d have bet anything he was talking to Lucy because he knew more about her than anyone else in my family (besides me, obviously). “I bet you’ll be great at it.”

  Lucy beamed again. “I want to be. Lois told me I’d figure out my calling and… I think this might be it. She even said I might be able to be an astronaut.”

  “Lois is pretty smart,” he said.

  “Gross!” Lucy said, wrinkling her nose. “But yeah.”

  Clark sputtered a surprised laugh.

  My stupid heart is not going to survive this dinner.

  “Lois, plate?” Mom prompted me, and I dopily looked away and handed mine to her.

  Maybe this would be okay. While I knew I’d live in fear until it was over, maybe dinner would be survivable and maybe Clark would understand why I’d kept my suspicions about TheInventor to myself for a while.

  Maybe everything was going to work out fine.

  Except right then, we all turned toward the door, at the sound of it opening. Dad strode through in his full dress uniform, carrying his suitcase.