Chapter 11: Chapter 11
In the evening, Clark returned home with a troubled look on his face.
"The dealer's racking up 12.5 points," he said, his voice tinged with concern.
"And, once again, this month's food bill is going overboard," Martha chimed in, her tone reflecting the family's growing financial worries.
Jonathan and Martha were sitting at the dining table, crunching numbers on recent expenses. The mood around the table was far from optimistic.
While working the calculator, Martha sighed and said, "Add in the 8.2 housing loan, and don't forget about the harvester repair costs."
After they tallied up all their household expenses, Martha glanced at Jonathan with a helpless look and said, "This month's situation is even worse than last."
On the other side of the room, Mitch nonchalantly flipped through the newspaper without lifting his head. "The grand total comes out to fifty-four thousand five hundred and one Dollars and thirty-eight cents."
After sorting out the bills for his parents, Mitch looked up and asked, "Is it pretty bad?"
Jonathan, who was busy making coffee, turned to Mitch and explained, "It's worse than we thought. It looks like we might have to consider taking out a loan."
Clark, who had been standing by the door, eavesdropping for a while, gathered his thoughts and greeted everyone. "Hey there, Clark."
Jonathan placed the coffee on the table and greeted his eldest son warmly. "Dad, do we really need to take out a loan?"
Clark put down his schoolbag, his expression laden with worry. "But won't the interest on the loan be a burden?"
Clark felt a sense of responsibility to help his parents, "Maybe I can help. I mean, what if I skipped high school, dove into professional sports competitions, and eventually became a spokesperson? There's big money in that."
But before Clark could finish his sentence, he noticed the perplexed expressions on his parents' and Mitch's faces. He quickly backtracked, "Okay, maybe that's not the best idea."
Clark's frustration was evident in his expression. "Clark, while we'd love to see your face on a cereal box, we also want you to finish school first," Martha cautioned, concerned about her eldest son's future.
"That goes for you too, Mitch," Jonathan added. "You and Clark have already been a tremendous help. Your contributions on the farm last quarter were equivalent to the work of seven or eight adults."
As they praised their sons, Martha also made it clear that dropping out of school was not an option.
After dinner, Clark caught Mitch's eye and asked him, "Mitch, have you heard anything about what happened with the football team?"
Mitch pretended not to know. "What happened?"
The news of Dan Brown's murder had spread throughout the school, and Mitch was well aware of Clark's line of questioning.
"Is it related to Coach Watt's team?" Martha, intrigued, joined the conversation. "Jonathan, you were also coached by Coach Watt, right? You played tailback, I recall."
Jonathan, not eager to revisit his football days, nodded. "Yeah, I was a tailback, number 32. But that's not a fond memory."
Clark continued, "Dan Brown, one of the team members, was tragically killed yesterday."
Clark scrutinized Mitch's face, searching for any sign of involvement. However, Mitch remained focused on his dinner, seemingly disinterested in the topic.
Martha expressed her surprise, "That's truly sad news. Have the police made any progress in catching the murderer?"
"Not yet," Clark responded, "but I heard that Dan Brown had burn marks all over his body. It could be from an electric shock or exposure to extreme heat. I got the details from Chloe."
The somber topic cast a shadow over the Kent family's dinner. After offering their condolences to Dan Brown, they quickly shifted the conversation to farm matters.
After dinner, Mitch retreated to his room. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Knock knock knock!"
"Eric, it's me," Clark's voice came from outside.
Mitch, surprised by his brother's visit, remarked, "You don't often come into my room, Clark."
Mitch pulled out a chair from his desk and motioned for Clark to sit. "When was the last time? Let me think... Oh yes, it was when you accidentally damaged the school's sports equipment. You needed money to cover it up and didn't want Mom and Dad to find out."
"So, did you accidentally break something expensive in the sports equipment room again?" Mitch teased.
"It's not about borrowing money, Mitch. It's about Dan Brown," Clark said, his expression grave. "Do you have anything to do with his death?"
Mitch raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
Clark's demeanor shifted. "You had a history of conflicts with Dan Brown at school, and your relationship with the football team wasn't great either."
"Are you suspecting me based on that alone?" Mitch replied. "Clark, that doesn't seem like a solid reason."
"And," Clark hesitated for a moment, "is it because of the incident with Whitney and the others choosing me as the scarecrow?"
Mitch stopped Clark. "Clark, you seem to think I'm the type of person who's always plotting behind the scenes for revenge. But most of the time, I'm too laid-back to bother. I prefer letting people self-destruct."
"Self-destruct?" Clark asked.
Mitch shook his head, "I don't think Dan Brown's death was a suicide."
"Alright, I'm seriously questioning how you perceive me," Mitch sighed, looking disappointed. "Clark, it seems like you view me as someone always ready to take action, someone capable of erasing someone's existence."
Clark's expression soured at the accusation. "In fact, Mitch, you've been keeping secrets. You've never explained where your money comes from, why you go to Metropolis late at night, or why you sometimes smell like blood. Gangs, robberies, shootings—these thoughts have crossed my mind. I haven't told Mom and Dad, just as I haven't mentioned your hidden stash of money that could instantly solve our family's debt crisis. I've stayed silent, but it doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. You've never truly considered me your brother, Mitch."
"You're exceptionally gifted, and I'm not, but I do know how to do the right thing. And I can't be sure if you always will."
The tension between the brothers hung heavily in the room.
"We really should communicate more," Mitch suggested.
Clark, unwilling to relent, declared, "Tomorrow is the homecoming dance, a significant event for the football team. If you're the murderer, I'll stop you."
Mitch's gaze met Clark's with a hint of anticipation. "I look forward to it."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone