Chapter 3: The Farm Boy and The Stranger
The hallways of Smallville High smelled like floor wax and desperation.
Students streamed past in both directions, a river of backpacks and bad fashion choices. Lockers slammed. Someone laughed too loud. A girl dropped her books and swore under her breath.
I stood at the main entrance, schedule in hand, completely lost.
Room 204. Where the hell is room 204?
The building was larger than it looked from outside. Three floors, endless corridors, and a numbering system that made no sense. I'd already passed Room 207, which was somehow next to Room 112.
"You look lost."
The voice came from my left. Deep, friendly, with a hint of Kansas drawl.
I turned.
Clark Kent was taller than I expected. Six-three at least, broad shoulders, the kind of build that came from years of farm work. Dark hair, blue eyes that radiated sincerity. He wore a red jacket over a blue shirt—colors he'd carry into a different kind of uniform someday.
Don't stare. Don't be weird.
"That obvious?"
He smiled. The expression was warm, genuine—completely different from the brooding hero he'd become in later seasons.
"You're holding your schedule upside down."
I looked down. He was right.
"First day," I said, flipping the paper. "Transfer student. Cole Harrison."
Clark stuck out his hand.
"Clark Kent. Welcome to Smallville."
We shook. His grip was firm but careful—controlled in a way that most teenagers weren't. I recognized it immediately. The grip of someone who knew they could crush bones if they squeezed too hard.
He has no idea I understand.
"Room 204?" I asked. "History with... Mr. Palmer?"
"Down that hall, up the stairs, second door on your right." Clark pointed. "Palmer's tough but fair. Don't fall asleep in his class."
"Noted. Thanks."
I started to walk away, but something made me pause. Turn back.
"Hey—any chance you know where the cafeteria is? They gave me a map, but..."
Clark laughed.
"Yeah, the map's useless. Lunch is at 11:30, main building, follow the smell of mystery meat. Can't miss it."
"Mystery meat. Wonderful."
"It's not that bad." He grinned. "Well. It's a little bad."
I filed away the interaction. Friendly. Open. Completely unsuspicious. Just a farm boy helping the new kid.
And he has no idea what either of us really is.
History passed in a blur of dates and names I half-remembered from a lifetime ago. Mr. Palmer was indeed tough—called on three students who clearly hadn't done the reading, made an example of each one.
I kept my head down. Took notes. Played the role of unremarkable transfer student.
[SOCIAL INTEGRATION PROCEEDING. RECOMMEND: ESTABLISH BASELINE RELATIONSHIPS BEFORE PURSUING STRATEGIC CONNECTIONS.]
Thanks for the tip, System.
English was next. Then math. By the time 11:30 rolled around, my brain was full of information I'd need to pretend to learn for the second time.
The cafeteria was exactly what Clark described—loud, crowded, and smelling of something that might once have been meat. I grabbed a tray, accepted whatever the lunch lady plopped on my plate, and scanned for an empty seat.
"You're Cole Harrison."
The voice was female, fast, and came from directly behind me.
I turned. A blonde girl with sharp eyes and a notebook clutched to her chest stood two feet away. Her smile was friendly, but there was calculation behind it.
Chloe Sullivan.
"That's me," I said.
"Chloe Sullivan. Editor of the Torch—that's the school paper. Welcome to Smallville. Can I ask you some questions?"
She didn't wait for an answer. Her pen was already moving.
"You transferred from... let me check my notes... Wichita?"
"That's right."
"And you're living alone? On Oak Street?"
She already researched me.
"My parents passed away. Car accident. I inherited enough to cover rent until graduation." The cover story came out smooth. Practiced. "Can I sit down, or is this an official interrogation?"
Chloe's smile widened.
"Sit. I'll interrogate while you eat."
I followed her to a table near the windows. Two other students were already there—a Black kid with a skeptical expression, and Clark Kent, looking amused by the whole exchange.
"Guys, this is Cole. He's new. Cole, this is Pete Ross and—"
"We met," Clark said. "This morning. Helped him find Palmer's room."
Pete nodded but didn't extend a hand.
"New kid. Cool. Another refugee from somewhere more interesting than Smallville."
I sat down. The mystery meat stared up at me, gray and glistening.
"Wichita isn't that interesting," I said.
"It's got more than one coffee shop."
"Fair point."
Chloe wasn't done.
"So the car accident that brought you here—that made the police blotter. Meteor rock strike on Highway 40. Pretty dramatic arrival."
The table went quiet. Clark's expression shifted—curiosity mixed with something else.
"Just lucky, I guess." I picked up a fork, pushed the meat around my plate. "Rock hit the car, I walked away. Doctors said it was a miracle."
"Smallville's full of miracles," Chloe said. Her tone made it clear she meant something else entirely. "You should check out the Torch sometime. We cover all the... interesting stories."
The Wall of Weird. She's already thinking about where to put me.
"Maybe I will."
Lunch continued. Pete warmed up once he realized I wasn't going to out-cool him. Clark asked about Wichita, about my old school, about what brought me to Smallville specifically.
"Needed a fresh start," I said. "Smallville seemed quiet."
Clark laughed. Pete snorted. Even Chloe smiled.
"Quiet," Pete repeated. "Sure. That's one word for it."
The mystery meat was exactly as bad as promised. I ate every bite anyway—the System's metabolism demands were no joke, and my stomach had been growling since second period.
[CALORIC INTAKE SUFFICIENT. INTEGRATION PROCEEDING: 54%.]
Good to know my lunch meets System approval.
The final bell rang at 3:15.
I gathered my things, shoved them in my backpack, and headed for the exit. The first day was over. I'd survived. Made contacts. Established myself as just another unremarkable student.
The parking lot was chaos—buses loading, cars pulling out, students clustering in groups. I wove through the crowd, heading for the sidewalk that would take me back to Oak Street.
And then I saw them.
Clark stood by an old red pickup truck, talking to someone. A girl. Blonde hair catching the afternoon sun, standing with her back to me.
Kara.
I stopped walking. My heart rate spiked.
[ELEVATED PHYSIOLOGICAL RESPONSE DETECTED. RECOMMEND: CONTROLLED BREATHING.]
Not now, System.
Clark spotted me over her shoulder. Waved.
No. No no no—
"Cole! Hey!"
Too late to pretend I hadn't seen. I walked over, forcing my legs to move at normal speed.
"Hey," I said. "Heading home?"
Clark nodded.
"My cousin's picking me up. Kara, this is Cole—he's new. Cole, this is Kara. She's visiting from Minnesota."
Kara turned.
Blue eyes. Sharp, assessing, with a depth that didn't match her apparent age. She extended her hand with a polite smile, but something in her posture shifted. Subtle. Watchful.
"Nice to meet you."
Her handshake was firm. Normal. No hint of super strength.
Either she's hiding it perfectly, or her powers aren't active yet.
"Minnesota?" I asked. "What brings you to Kansas?"
"Family visit. Helping out on the farm while I'm here."
Clark nodded.
"Kara's great with the animals. Even got the mean rooster to stop attacking me."
"He just needed the right approach." Her eyes hadn't left my face. "You're the one who got hit by the meteor. I heard about that."
Of course she did.
"Word travels fast in small towns."
"It does."
A moment of silence. Clark looked between us, oblivious to whatever was passing unspoken.
"You need a ride home?" he offered. "We go right past Oak Street."
"I'm good. Thanks. The walk's nice."
Kara's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"It was nice meeting you, Cole."
"You too."
I turned and walked away. Forced myself not to look back. My skin prickled with the awareness of being watched.
[BIOSIGNATURE ANALYSIS COMPLETE.]
The System's message appeared in my mind like cold water.
[KRYPTONIAN BIOSIGNATURE DETECTED DURING PHYSICAL CONTACT. SUBJECT IS NOT HUMAN.]
I know.
[SUBJECT EXHIBITS NO ACTIVE POWER OUTPUT. POSSIBLE STATES: POWERS DORMANT, POWERS SUPPRESSED, OR POWERS NOT YET DEVELOPED.]
I kept walking. Past the school, past the shops, past the families heading home after work.
Kara Zor-El was real. She was here. And she had looked at me like she was trying to figure out what I was hiding.
Fair enough. I was doing the same thing.
The Kansas sun was warm on my shoulders. Somewhere behind me, a truck engine started.
Tomorrow I'd be back at school. I'd see Clark again. Maybe Chloe would have more questions. Maybe Pete would decide I was worth talking to.
And Kara would be at the farm, watching, waiting. A Kryptonian without powers—for now—trapped in a world that wasn't her home.
Like me.
The System chimed one more time:
[STRATEGIC OPPORTUNITY DETECTED. KRYPTONIAN SUBJECT REPRESENTS SIGNIFICANT ALLIANCE POTENTIAL.]
[ALSO: SIGNIFICANT THREAT POTENTIAL.]
[RECOMMEND: CAREFUL APPROACH.]
I reached my apartment building. Climbed the stairs. Let myself into 3B.
The crack in the floor was still there. The empty rooms still waited.
But something had changed.
I wasn't just a stranger in a strange world anymore.
I was a player in a game I didn't fully understand, surrounded by people with secrets as dangerous as my own.
Kara isn't human. I'm not who I used to be. And Clark Kent has no idea what's coming for any of us.
The sun set outside my window. Orange and pink, just like yesterday.
I sat on my bed and began to plan.
Want more? The story continues on Patreon!
If you can't wait for the weekly release, you can grab +10, +15, or +20 chapters ahead of time on my Patreon page. Your support helps me keep this System running!
Read ahead here: [ patreon.com/system_enjoyer ]