scribblinlenore | Interactive story continued

So, yesterday I started writing the DirtyTeacher!Lex and FailingStudent!Clark that

nerodi wanted. And to make it more fun, it's interactive, so you guys get to decide what happens. I'm back to finish it today.

Here are the previous parts:

Part One
Part Two

So we left off yesterday with water damage. Here it is:

Lex gets up from his desk and begins to pace at the front of the classroom. The students sit up straighter in their seats, eyes riveted on him, their expressions tense. They know what this means, what's coming next.

"Who can tell me what year the Battle of Issus took place?"

There is silence, and Lex points to Maria Callahan, front row, acne problem, a diligent student who always gets the right answers. He usually calls on her first, or Brad Johnson, the brownnoser who sits by the windows. He hates starting things off on a note of ignorance.

"333 B.C.?" Maria's voice lilts up at the end, making it a question, although Lex is certain she knows every detail of that battle as intimately as she knows her own name.

"Confidence, Miss Callahan. There's no need to apologize for being right." He turns down an aisle, walking slowly, making the students on either side of him shuffle their feet. "Now who can tell me who commanded the Persian army in that battle?"

He glances deliberately around the room, making them all wait for it. Clark ducks his head even lower, starting to look like a frightened turtle. Apparently, he didn't do the reading, either. Lex lets him marinate in his own dread. Perhaps it's not a fair impulse, wanting to make the boy pay for arousing these unseemly desires in him. But then, who ever said the world was fair?

"Mr. Clayton," he calls on the hero of the school's wrestling team, a drooling Neanderthal with an annoying penchant for dozing off in class.

"Um, it's, like, that commode guy, right?"

Lex sighs. "If by 'that commode guy," you somehow mean Darius III Codomannus, then yes, that is correct."

Roy Clayton pumps his fist in the air, missing Lex's sarcasm entirely. Lex pinches the bridge of his nose. He's not sure how long he'll survive living amongst people who have no sense of irony.

"All right," he says, taking a deep breath, "let's move on. Where did Alexander proceed after this battle?" He whirls around. "Mr. Kent."

Clark stares up at him, wide-eyed, open-mouthed. It's clear he has no idea what Lex is talking about.

"Down the Mediterranean coast," Lex answers for him. "Name one city he attacked."

Clark starts to turn pink.

"Tyre," Lex tells him. "How long did that siege last?"

Clark blinks helplessly.

"Seven months. Tyre was a rocky island fortress, considered by many to be impenetrable. How did Alexander finally prevail?"

The boy bites his lip.

"He used rubble from the abandoned mainland city to build a causeway out to the island and then battered the city walls until he breached its fortifications."

He moves back to the front of the room and addresses the entire class, "And what can we learn from this?"

They stare back at him with expressions that are so terrifyingly blank he has a flash of panic about the future, the day when these kids will be in charge of the world.

"The lesson is that patience, determination and creative problem solving are tools that can be used to accomplish even those things that have long been considered impossible. You'd do well to remember that." He opens his textbook to begin his lecture, but before he does, adds as an aside, "That's five points off your class participation grade, Mr. Kent."

Roy Clayton snickers, silenced a second later by Lex's icy stare. Clark doesn't dare look up, but stares down at his notebook with an air of diligence, as if he hopes to make up for his shortcomings by taking assiduous notes. Lex launches into his lecture. As feared, the students' faces glaze over. He sighs inwardly. They just don't understand the profundity of history, and he's at a loss for how to communicate it to them.

He finishes a few minutes before the bell is due to ring. "Pass last night's homework up to the front."

There is a flurry of searching through backpacks, the sound of pages being torn out of spiral notebooks, and then a sea of white paper heads his way. The only person who remains motionless is Clark.

Lex goes to stand next to his seat. "And where is your assignment, Mr. Kent?"

Clark glances up hesitantly. "Well, you see--" He swallows hard. "I did do it, but we had this problem at my house. A pipe burst in the kitchen, early this morning, and that's where I always do my homework. At the table. I'd left my papers there when I was done. And then the pipe thing happened. By the time we got it under control, the whole kitchen was pretty much wrecked. And--" A sheen of sweat has broken out on the boy's forehead. "My homework-- I didn't have enough time to redo it."

"Hey, Kent," Roy Clayton calls out to him in a mocking voice, "maybe if your folks got real jobs they could afford some decent plumbing, and you wouldn't have these problems." He breaks out in a loud guffaw, looking to his jock buddies for encouragement, and they don't disappointment him.

"Mr. Clayton," Lex says sharply, and the boy's laughter instantly evaporates. "Since you enjoy diagnosing problems so much, you can give me five pages analyzing the battle plan of 'that commode guy,' and why it wasn't successful."

Clayton opens his mouth to protest, but quickly thinks better of it.

Clark shoots Lex a grateful look, but if he thinks that's going to get him off the hook, he has so much yet to learn in life. "And you, Mr. Kent, can spend your afternoon with me, learning to improve your work habits. Or at the very least not to insult my intelligence by offering ridiculous excuses for your slatternly scholarship. Report back here when school is over."

Unlike Roy Clayton, Clark shows no impulse to argue. "Whatever you say, Mr. Luthor." His tone is compliant, almost submissive.

That certainly fills Lex's head with ideas. Mercifully, the bells rings, and the students erupt out of their seats, make a beeline for the door. The last one to leave is Clark, who casts one backward glance, before ducking his head shyly and hurrying away.

I'm going out for lunch now. So this poll will close when I come back.

[Poll #486915]

Poll Closed: The winner by a clear margin is imperial Rome. That option was really a shoutout to isagel and how much I love her story "Captured." Clearly, you all agree! *g* More story later this afternoon, after I get out of this meeting I have to go to.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

suzvoy.livejournal.com

"Um, it's, like, that commode guy, right?"

Bwa!

Clark soooo likes Lex ;)

From:

Not a homecoming queen

Interactive story continued

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