章 31: Kryptonite And Scarecrow
Soren desperately stood on his toes, trying to clean it off, but the more he wiped, the more the paint smeared, spreading across Clark's chest.
Away from the Kryptonite, Clark was finally starting to regain his strength.
He saw what Soren was doing and effortlessly broke the ropes that had been tightly wrapped around his wrists.
He grabbed Soren's hand, his large palm enveloping Soren's.
"I'm fine. Don't cry, Soren," Clark said awkwardly, he quickly reaching up with his right hand to wipe away the tears on Soren's face.
"Why are you crying? I'm okay. It was just a stupid prank by Whitney and his friends. Look, I'm fine now."
It was then that Soren realized he had been crying.
He clumsily wiped the cold tears from his face, his voice shaky, "I thought... I thought…"
He thought the little alien he raised was going to die!
Soren had a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, none of which he could say out loud.
He was just relieved, so relieved, to see Clark standing there, safe and sound.
"Was it Whitney who did this to you? Did he put that necklace on you?" Soren asked.
By now, Clark could feel his energy fully returning.
He felt almost back to normal, but something strange was happening.
There was a subtle ache in his chest, right around his heart.
It felt as though his invincible heart had been filled with warm water, swelling in his chest.
Clark lowered his gaze slightly, his bright blue eyes landing on Soren's tear-streaked face.
His heart pounded faster.
"I..." Clark suddenly realized he couldn't even form the simplest sentence.
His mind which was capable of solving the world's most complex problems, learning new languages in minutes, and mastering every civilization's knowledge, had suddenly gone blank.
And it happened right now, in front of his new neighbor.
When he had received Whitney's call, Clark already knew that Whitney had bad intentions.
The "Scarecrow" tradition was one of the most hated customs of the Smallville football team.
Every year, after a new captain was chosen, they would pick a student to be the scarecrow, tying them up in the fields.
The unlucky person would have an "S" painted on their chest, to mark them as the scarecrow.
Whitney had always disliked Clark, especially because Clark's crush on Lana was no secret at Smallville High School—and Lana was Whitney's girlfriend.
When Whitney became the team captain, it was no surprise that he chose Clark to be the new scarecrow.
Clark didn't want any conflict and certainly didn't want to be part of their ridiculous tradition, so he refused when Whitney demanded he show up.
But then Whitney threatened him, saying that if Clark didn't come, they'd pick Soren as the next target for their bullying.
That unreasonable threat had pushed Clark to his limit.
Clark had had enough of Whitney's endless taunts and decided to take a few minutes to talk things out.
He wasn't going to use force, but he needed to make sure Whitney understood where he stood.
Whitney was waiting for him with a group of football players near the abandoned LuthorCorp factory.
When Clark showed up, the group burst into mocking laughter.
They jeered at him loudly: "Hey, Kent, shouldn't you be helping your dad milk the cows?"
"Hahaha, I bet he only came because he thought Lana was here!"
"Or maybe he just wants to be the scarecrow?"
"Kent, why didn't you bring your new little buddy along?"
Ignoring the taunts, Clark kept his face serious and walked straight toward Whitney, who was standing in the center of the group.
But just as he reached Whitney, an overwhelming weakness suddenly hit him.
It was as if all his strength drained out of him in an instant.
He collapsed to the ground in a clumsy, helpless manner.
Whitney smirked, hands in his pockets, and looked down at Clark, laughing coldly, "What's the matter, Kent? Your weak bones acting up again?"
Clark was filled with confusion.
This strange weakness, the same feeling he got every time he was near Lana Lang, was happening again—but now it was triggered just by being close to Whitney.
And the closer Whitney got, the sharper the pain inside Clark's body became.
Cold sweat dripped from his forehead as he struggled to understand what was happening.
Whitney and his group roughly dragged Clark to the cornfield by the road.
In the middle of the field, they had already set up a tall wooden farm structure and prepared ropes to tie someone up.
"Come on, Kent, let me help you up," Whitney sneered.
He laughed, signaling two of his teammates to grab Clark's arms, while he bent down to pick up a rope.
As he bent over, a necklace slipped out of his shirt.
The pendant, a glowing green stone, caught Clark's eye and sent a sharp pain through him.
Clark suddenly realized it was the same necklace Lana usually wore.
Was that why being near Whitney made him weak?
Was it the stone?
Could that be the source of all his pain?
Clark stared hard at the necklace around Whitney's neck.
Whitney noticed his gaze and sneered.
Grabbing Clark's collar, he mocked, "What are you looking at, Kent? Like Lana's necklace? Well, too bad—you'll never be close to her. Here, wear it. It's the closest you'll ever get!"
Whitney, clearly proud of his cruel joke, yanked off the necklace and put it around Clark's neck.
Clark immediately felt a surge of pain, a thousand times worse than before.
The glowing stone resting on his chest felt like a burning coal, scorching his skin.
His ears rang, and in a split second, he lost all his powers—his super hearing, ice breath, super speed, super strength—all gone.
He felt weaker than any normal human.
Sweat drenched his back.
Whitney then dipped a paintbrush into a bucket of red paint, ripped open Clark's shirt, and painted a large red "S" across his chest.
"Enjoy being the scarecrow, Kent," Whitney said with a cruel smile.
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