His knees were slightly red, and he wore clean white socks and polished shoes.
He looked completely different from the boys who grew up in Smallville.
Smallville was a rural town with lots of open space, where the boys were more used to wearing torn jeans and dirty T-shirts from playing in the fields.
The teacher gave Soren a seat near the front of the classroom.
As soon as he sat down, a bunch of classmates gathered around him, curious to know where he was from and why he transferred to Smallville High School.
When they heard he was from New York, the excitement around him grew even more.
"Which part of New York do you live in? My uncle works there too!"
"Do you see mutants in New York a lot? I heard there's a mutant organization with a branch there!"
"Is it true that there are parties and music festivals in New York every day?"
"I heard in New York…"
The teenagers gathered around Soren, bombarding him with questions one after another.
Soren patiently and kindly answered each one, his face lighting up with a bright smile.
He didn't show any sign of irritation.
In fact, he quickly learned most of their names and soon blended in with the new group of classmates.
Clark sat at the back of the classroom, watching as Soren was surrounded by everyone.
He quietly doodled circles on his paper with a pencil, feeling a bit out of place.
He really wanted to go over and talk to Soren, but there were already so many people around him.
Clark had been worried that Soren might have trouble fitting in at school.
But now, it was clear that his concern was unnecessary.
Soren's social skills were way stronger than he had imagined.
Even as Soren was surrounded by his classmates, his eyes still managed to find Clark's in the back of the room.
When their eyes met, Clark suddenly felt a sharp sting in his chest.
He quickly looked down, avoiding Soren's gaze.
Soren, glancing over the shoulders of the other students, seemed like he wanted to say something to Clark but hesitated.
Sitting next to Clark, Pete nudged him with his elbow, "Hey, Clark, isn't the new kid living right behind your place?"
Clark nodded his head, feeling a bit uninterested.
He pulled a textbook from his backpack and placed it on the desk, "Yeah, they moved into the old Luthor mansion. I went over with Martha last Friday."
"Why don't you go over and say hi?" Pete asked, surprised.
Clark's eyes flickered, and he muttered softly, "There are too many people."
Clark wasn't exactly popular in class.
His shyness and quiet nature were often mistaken for being aloof, and because of Jonathan's constant warnings, he made a conscious effort to keep his distance from others to prevent anyone from discovering his abilities.
All morning, he hadn't found a chance to talk to Soren.
When it was time for chemistry in the afternoon, the usual group of kids who liked to mess with Clark caught up with him near the playground.
Led by Whitney, three of them grabbed Clark by the collar and dragged him, stumbling, to the chain-link fence by the field, with a bunch of their laughing friends following behind.
That strange, unbearable pain and weakness hit Clark again.
His body felt like it was being shocked, his blood boiling, and his face turned deathly pale.
He looked up, expecting to see Lana in the crowd, but she wasn't there.
...What was going on?
Why was he feeling this way, even though Lana wasn't around?
A drop of sweat rolled down Clark's forehead.
He was breathing heavily from the intense pain, his body hunched over, veins bulging on his neck as he fought through it.
Whitney sneered at Clark's suffering, clearly enjoying it.
He shoved Clark against the chain-link fence, grabbing the collar of his shirt and leaning in aggressively. "You tripped behind Lana the other day, didn't you, Kent?"
"Disgusting!" Whitney said loudly, making sure everyone was watching.
Clark clenched his fists, breathing hard, but stayed silent.
He was using all his strength to fight the pain inside his body.
Whitney's insults barely registered in comparison.
He didn't care about this...
"Look at you, Kent," Whitney mocked, tapping Clark's face with his finger, then yanking Clark's hair to force him to look at him, "Look at those pathetic eyes. You're a loser, can't even play sports, huh? You think you deserve Lana? You think you're my competitor? What a joke."
Clark's piercing blue eyes locked onto Whitney's, and for the first time, a stubborn defiance flickered in them.
"Oh, got something to say now? Why don't you get up and fight me, Kent? Come on!" Whitney taunted, pushing even harder.
He was like a young, aggressive wolf, testing Clark's limits.
Clark's jaw tightened, and he turned his head away in silent struggle, a large drop of sweat hanging from his brow.
He couldn't give in.
Clark repeated this to himself.
Jonathan had always told him: never give in to anger.
Anger wouldn't help him.
It wouldn't make him a better person.
Anger would only cloud his judgment, take away his kindness, and make him feel completely cast out from the world.
He would never let anger destroy him.
Behind Whitney, the crowd began to cheer, egging him on to hit Clark harder.
Clark could hear every single taunt clearly.
He could even match each voice with the face of his classmates.
His hearing had always been exceptional—so much so that Jonathan believed it was part of his unique abilities.
But sometimes, this heightened ability caused him trouble.
Like now, for instance.
He could hear Soren's voice from across the field, laughing and talking with some other students as they walked towards the area.
Clark squeezed his eyes that was shut in pain.
No... no...
Please, don't let Soren see this...
He didn't want Soren, his new friend, to see him like this.