The Torch office has it's own smell. It comes from the permanent markers and the rubber cement, from the toner in the printer and even the grease pencils have their own unique odor.
Familiarity breeds comfort and if there's one place in this entire school that I'm familiar with it's this office -- and right now I sure as hell need some comfort. I definitely was not going to find it down in the gym, scene of many an embarrassing moment during dodge ball. Stupid evil game should be outlawed. The gold thread on my dress is fraying. It's one more reminder that this is very much not a normal day; my hair in a 'do that would withstand the winds of an F5 is another. I would take it down but I'm sure it would look hideous if I did, side effect of Formal Hair.
Not a normal day, it's the understatement of the year and I would be tempted to use it for a headline if it wasn't grammatically atrocious. Date has abandoned her for the precious cheerleader, father about to lose his job, a tornado is bearing down on the town and she still is with it enough to play reporter girl. Go Chloe!
Dammit, even self-cheering isn't working at this point. Everything is so weird right now. I'm all coifed, Whitney's joining the Marines for crying out loud and Pete even has a date -- and she's not inflatable. The world has gone topsy-turvy.
Except for one thing.
Clark went to save Lana.
It's like a broken record except for the fact that the heathens I call classmates probably don't know what a vinyl record looks like. Okay, so it's like a scratched CD. One that I ran over with my car. That scratched.
I told Clark that I wouldn't forgive him if he ruined this night. Maybe deep down I won't but right now I don't give a damn. It all seems so normal at this point -- things as they should be. Except I should be taking refuge with the rest of the school, Lana should be safely crowned Queen of this damned function and Whitney should be at her side, not on a bus to become one of the few, the proud.
Mr. Richey, my history teacher, was big on 'Breaking Points in History' this year. It was his favorite topic of discussion right after the almighty "zeitgeist". Well, maybe he'd give me an A for the semester if I could relate all this as a Breaking Point. I think it sure as hell qualifies as one.
When the wind dies down and things return to "normal", Clark will come back to apologize. His mom brought him up right. I'll forgive him and sigh inwardly. He'll think that everything is okay and we can just move on from there, whether I end up moving away or not. He'll be partly right. Everything will be okay, but I'll be sighing because I will have finally given up. Not really a sigh of defeat so much as a sigh of resignation -- moving out of the way of destiny. I'm going to miss this room and everything that goes along with it. I may not leave it this year. That whole buyout thing that Lex is organizing could go through, but I'll leave it one day just like I'll leave Smallville behind. Moving aside for destiny -- moving forward with it too, I guess.
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