American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 90 Clarke's Troubles
The bell for the end of get out of class at Smallwell High School had just rung, and the echo still lingered in the corridors.

Before Clark Kent could even take off his football cap, he was surrounded by his tall and strong teammates on the football team like a pack of wolves discovering their prey.

moment
The smell of sweat, earth and the unique hormones of adolescent boys hit me in the face.

"Clark! You have to do this favor this time! Please!"

Captain Jason's sweaty, muscular arms suddenly hooked around Clark's neck. He lowered his voice and pleaded:

"If we didn't have the cheerleaders cheering us on in the Homecoming finale, we'd be halfway defeated against those bastards from Hawksville! Can you bear to see our brothers being pinned to the ground? And can you bear to see those guys on the football team getting the girls' attention?!"

"Jason."

Clark scratched the back of his head awkwardly, avoiding his teammates' expectant gazes with his blue eyes: "But why must I be the one to invite Lana Lang? She..."

"I heard that you and Lana were classmates in elementary school and..."

"You are the most popular person in the whole school!"

Vice Captain Mark poked his head out of his locker, which smelled of mold and sweat, waving a freshly taken-off, smelling pad in his hand:

"Every time the cafeteria lady sees you, she's ready to dump the whole mountain of mashed potatoes on your plate! With that kind of popularity, you don't need to come save us. It's unjust!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Uu~!"

The locker room erupted in laughter, mixed with whistles.

Clark's ears were burning and he almost ran away holding his football helmet.

But unfortunately, his super senses allowed him to even hear the cheers from his teammates behind him:

"Think of what we're getting paid, Clark! Three years of full cleaning service for football pads! Even socks included!"

"."

Clark couldn't help but sigh as he pressed his hot face against the cool football helmet in his hands.

It's easier to put myself against six defenders than to invite Lana.
Lana Lang.

His elementary school classmate.

Ever since the school bus incident that year, she followed her aunt to transfer to a school in the metropolis and only returned to the small town last year.

but
These are not the main points. The main point is that he doesn't know why his legs become weak when he gets close to that girl.
Not to mention approaching her and inviting her to come cheer on the football team.

“Crack, crack, crack—!”

Um.
It was the annoying clacking of the old antique typewriter in the school magazine office.

But at this moment, it sounded like heavenly music to Clark's ears.

His eyes lit up and he immediately rushed in as if he had found a savior.

"Whoa! Watch out, Clark!"

As a result, he almost knocked over Chloe's pile of notes.

"This is?"

He quickly supported his own 'fortress of knowledge'.

Chloe Sullivan, the current editor-in-chief of Smallwell High School's school newspaper, The Torch, raised her eyebrows and looked at Clark, who was grinning.

"Are you causing trouble?"
-
"Uh-huh."

After listening to the older boy's stumbling narration, Chloe's mouth twitched, revealing an extremely speechless expression.

"You guys on the football team, with your heads full of padding, think you can beat the crap out of Hawkesville next door just by waving your cheerleading miniskirts and pom-poms in the air?" she complained bluntly. "That's really..."

"Hahahahaha!"

Chloe's expression changed instantly, and she slammed the table and laughed wildly without any image:

"Oh my god! Are you guys, a bunch of high school boys, kidding me? This logic is even weirder than my sewer system, hahahahahahahaha!"

"cough cough cough cough"

"Chloe, what's this wonderful metaphor of yours?"

Pete Ross, who was eating a sandwich by the window, choked and coughed when he heard this. The young man's shoulders shook as if he had been electrocuted, and the lettuce leaves in his sandwich flew onto the manuscript that Chloe had just finished.

"Hello!"

Clark blushed as he hurriedly brushed the lettuce off Chloe's manuscript. "I'm seriously asking for your help! This is a matter of team morale!"

"Uh-huh... I'm listening, Clark."

Chloe stopped laughing, wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and then
Another face change.

"This is none of my business. I'm not Lana, nor am I a cheerleader." She set her delicate, freckled face in a serious tone, grabbed the old camera on the table, and snorted, "Please figure it out yourself, Mr. Kent."

"Next I have to finish my manuscript - 'Smallerville's Chronicles of Strange Events'."

"I don't have time for your nonsense."

After saying that, she casually tossed her golden ponytail behind her head and walked away with the camera.

"boom!"

The closed metal door reflected Clark's shattered face.

"Okay, okay, Chloe is in a bad mood today." Pete walked over slowly, and with a little sympathy, handed the remaining half of the uncontaminated sandwich to Clark: "And..."

"Man, you know, this is hellish."

He chewed something and mumbled, "Lara is the candidate queen for the homecoming voting."

"You're the center of attention, with suitors lining up from the school gate to your rugby field."

"."

"Ok?"

This guy knows so much?

Clark blinked, as if grasping at straws.

He put his hands together and prayed:

"Great Pete! As wise as you are, please give me some advice!"

"Hey! You guy!"

Pete rolled his eyes. "Clark, you're forcing me. Everyone knows Whitney is pursuing Lana."

"I don't want to be targeted by that guy. His friends are not vegetarians." Pete lowered his voice, with a hint of dissuasion, "You know, Whitney is said to be involved with some shady guys outside of school. Clark, if you really plan to invite Lana, be careful."

"This"

Clark was stunned.

Whitney? An outsider? Are there people like that in our school?

"So..." Clark asked tentatively, "Who is Whitney?"

"?!"

Peter stared at Clark's handsome face, which was filled with sincere confusion, as if he were looking at an alien.

"Dude, are you serious? The freshman football tryouts! The guy you sent flying three meters like a bowling pin, leaving him flat on his face! Do you remember?"

"It's said that this is why he wasn't picked by the coach. Now he can only play goalkeeper on the football team. He won't be able to join the rugby team until next year, and he'll even have to start as a substitute!"

After being reminded by Pete, Clark had some impression in his mind.

It seemed like a muscular figure who tried to intercept him but was accidentally knocked flying and fell to the ground.

If I hadn't been able to control my biological stance at that time and restrain most of the force, it would have been difficult for that guy to take off from the spot.

Because of that collision, my father, who was watching the football selection at the scene, was almost scared and took me away. If Uncle Locke hadn't stopped him, I don't think I would even be able to play on the football team.

"Ugh."

Patting Clark's sturdy arm, Pete sighed, "Just be thankful you have this harmless, handsome face and are a popular sports star at school. Otherwise, with Whitney's vindictive temper, she would have been the first to block you in the locker."

"But that's not very likely." He paused and added, "After all, you still have that brother."

"That's right, brother!"

Peter's eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had discovered a new world. He spoke a little faster:

"Why don't you ask your brother for help? He's the 'King' this year!"

"Isn't it reasonable for the Queen to have the King invite him?" Dio? The King?
Clark's eyes also lit up, as if the clouds had cleared and the sun was shining.

He remembered.

As we all know, Homecoming is an important annual tradition in American high schools.

Alumni gathered from all directions to their alma mater to show their loyalty to it.

By then, the campus will be filled with an atmosphere of nostalgia and celebration.

One of the highlights is the selection of the Homecoming King and Queen by vote of all students.

The 'King' and 'Queen' will parade through town on floats to Smallwell High School before the biggest sporting event of the year, igniting the passion of the entire stadium.

And Dio Kent...

His brother who always seemed to be in the spotlight wherever he went...

He is the undisputed 'King' of Homecoming this year.

"Um"

Clark fell into deep thought, and his mind couldn't help but emerge the image of his younger brother Dio, that handsome face that always had a half-smile on it, with three parts of sarcasm and seven parts of arrogance.

Let this guy ask a girl out?
To be honest, it's scarier than being close to Lana.
But the promises of my teammates echoed in my ears
Those helmets, shoulder pads, knee pads, covered in mud and smelling of sweat...

I didn’t have to touch them for three whole years!
Clark touched his chin and suddenly realized that this didn't seem impossible?
Let the King invite the Queen...

sound…

like…

Isn't that totally illogical?
-
Clark found Dio on the rooftop of the laboratory building.

The midday sun gilded the blond boy's features. He was leaning against the railing, flipping through a copy of The Prince. He didn't even look up when he heard footsteps. "No way."

How does he know? !
Clark opened his mouth, then scratched the back of his head and said, "Well, actually..."

"Clark." Dio closed the book, his red eyes flashing with sarcasm. "I've been very busy lately. Unlike you, a big, youthful guy, I'm not like you."

"Hey!" Clark's face darkened. "Why am I..."

“It’s even more ridiculous.”

Dio interrupted him, tapping his fingertips lightly on the paper. "You actually think I'll do anything for you."

Clark was choked and speechless.

Dio had already turned and walked towards the stairs, his clothes curling in an arrogant arc.

"and many more!"

Clark took two steps after him, "I haven't told you yet?!"

"Whatever, figure it out yourself."

Dio waved his hand without even turning back, "Also, remember to pick up Sarafiel at four o'clock. He's leaving school early today."

His voice came mixed with the school bell.

"Don't forget to pick him up because you were sweating on the sports field, leaving that silly boy to feed squirrels at the school gate until dark."

"Oh."

Clark leaned on the railing in frustration, watching Dio's blond hair disappear around the corner of the stairs: "What about you?"

"I have something to do."

What are you busy with?
He's reading all day long.

Clark looked at the sky and sighed. How should he invite Lana?

To be honest, the more people rejected him, the more competitive he became.

I don't believe that Clark can't do it alone!
Come on, Clark! You can do it!
The mid-afternoon sun smeared the brick-red exterior of Smallwell Elementary School like melted butter.

Clark leaned against the rusty school gate railing. He hadn't even had time to change out of his training clothes, and there was grass clippings on his knees.

And just when he checked his watch for the umpteenth time to make sure he was not late, he finally heard—

"Everyone, run!"

Clark stood up straight suddenly, and saw a group of lower grade students rushing out of the handicraft classroom like frightened sparrows. One blond boy even lost a shoe while running.

"What happened?!"

He flipped over and entered the school, taking two steps at a time to reach the teaching building where Sarafiel's class was located, and then he ran into a mess at the corner.
The overturned paint bucket splashed a rainbow-colored river in the corridor, and colorful colored paper was scattered all over the floor.

In the middle of this chaos, his younger brother was holding a wet orange cat, his little hands still in a posture that emitted healing light.

The scratches on the kitten's hind legs were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Sarafil?"

Clark called softly.

The little boy's shoulders trembled and he slowly turned his head.

The black hair on his forehead was still dripping with blue paint, but the kitten in his arms was snoring comfortably.

"Xiaoju's hind legs are tied up"

Sarafiel's voice trailed off. "I'm just trying to help."

Clark squatted down and noticed that the kitten's hind legs were wrapped with several circles of rough hemp rope, and the red marks from them had not completely faded.

He gently pried open Sarafiel's clenched fist and casually pulled the hemp rope for the kitten.

"Sad?"

Clark wiped the paint off his brother's face with his sleeve.

Sarafiel shook his head, trying his best to ignore the "Shendu" roaring in his ear. He buried his face in the kitten's fluffy fur.
"Why do some of my classmates avoid me? I saved a fallen sparrow last week and helped a lost puppy home last week." His voice was muffled. "Do they think I'm weird?"

The glass window at the end of the corridor cast a diamond-shaped spot of light, which shone on the wet paint on the ends of Sarafiel's hair, as if he was wearing a funny little blue hat.

"Listen, Sarafiel."

Sighing, Clark rubbed Sarafiel's paint-stained head, "Not everyone can understand special people."

"Meow~"

The kitten also poked its head out of Sarafiel's arms and meowed.

This seems to express agreement.

"really?"

Sarafiel raised her wet eyes.

"certainly."

Clark smiled and pointed at the kitten, "At least the furry gentleman is grateful to you, right?"

The orange cat cooperated and licked Sarafiel's palm, causing the little boy to burst into laughter.

Clark took the opportunity to wrap the man and cat in his training jacket:
"Let's go, it's time for our superhero to go home and recharge."

“Mom must have baked blueberry pie today.”

They walked out of the school gate in the shadow of the setting sun, but did not notice a few little heads suddenly popping out from behind.

"Look!"

"That Sarafiel guy," the blond boy who had escaped first said, trembling, pointing at Sarafiel, "He's talking to animals again! Last time, I even saw a squirrel saluting him!"

"I heard that these are usually children of witches," another girl added quietly, "Will that kitten become a familiar in the future?!"

"That's nothing." A boy muttered quietly, "I heard that his brother, Dio Kent, beat up all our brothers and sisters three or four years ago."

"My brother still warns me not to get close to or provoke the Kent family."

"what?!"

The puddles under their feet reflected the children's frightened faces.

But in the distance, Sarafil.
He happily held up the kitten and gestured to Clark.

The paint dripped behind him into intermittent blue footprints, like a string of wet stars.

(End of this chapter)