THE NEW GIRL IN SMALLVILLE
by Christopher Leeson
Part Four: September Showers
Claire woke on Tuesday morning with a sigh and a groan. Today would be her first time in the girls’ gym class. She lay back, staring at the ceiling, wondering how to avoid what was coming.
"Claire! Breakfast!" Martha called from downstairs.
Claire sighed again. Her parents rarely addressed her as "Clark" anymore. That was acceptable because careless words might be overheard. Unfortunately, having a new name forced upon her left the former boy feeling bereft of identity.
With reluctance, Claire pushed herself out of bed. She dressed deliberately, unconsciously delaying her journey downstairs. She had packed the gym clothes she'd need today into a zippered duffel bag—exercise shorts and the regulation t-shirt required by school rules. If she'd had a normal human physique, her stomach would have been churning.
But, human or not, her father thought she looked out of sorts. "You look a little green around the gills," Jonathan remarked as his daughter slumped into her chair at the breakfast table.
"It's shower day," she mumbled, pushing a fork into her scrambled eggs without enthusiasm.
Martha placed a glass of orange juice in front of her daughter. "I know you've been dreading gym class, honey, but try to think of it as... research."
"Research?" Claire looked up perplexedly.
"You'll be experiencing a culture you're not familiar with. Think of it as an illuminating study."
Jonathan nodded. "Your mother's got a point. Showering with girls shouldn’t be all that different from showering with boys."
"It feels completely different," protested Claire. "Being with guys back then didn't mean anything because I was a guy among guys. Now I'm... I don't know what I am."
Martha reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You're a double joy for your parents, Clair. You're our daughter and our son at the same time. No one is braver than you, darling. You'll get through this day just like you've gotten through all the others."
Claire checked herself. She didn't want to protest yet again that she was not. their daughter. She held her tongue because words were not her main problem. Genetics were.
#
At 01:00 pm, the gymnasium echoed with skidding sneakers and the staccato thump of dribbled volleyballs. As Clark, Claire had learned to disguise her strength and speed to appear human, deliberately missing as many shots as she made. Clark had become used to that. But acting like an inept athlete gave neither Claire nor Clark any pleasure. Only as Superboy had Clark been able to cut loose and have fun.
At the end of basketball play, the gym instructor blew her whistle. Miss Kent tensed. The dreaded moment now had be be confronted.
It wasn't just embarrassment. It was something deeper and more troubling. Sharing a shower with nude girls would be a token of her surrender. It would be like admitting to the world that she was a girl like any other.
"Kent! Collins! Rivera! You're on equipment clean up!" Coach Bradley called out, directing their attention to the volleyball nets.
Claire felt a wave of relief—clean-up duty would delay her trip to the shower for a few precious minutes. She joined Pamela Collins and Marisa Rivera in gathering the volleyballs and taking down the nets.
"How do you dig the Smallville gym class so far, Claire?" Marisa asked.
"It's groovy," Claire replied insincerely, carefully folding the net. "Like gym class at home."
After the equipment was closeted, the three girls hurried to the locker room. Claire could hear voices and laughter echoing from the shower room. A couple of girls, already finished, were returning to the changing area, incompletely wrapped in white towels.
"Come on," Pamela said, pointing toward the shower room. “We only have ten minutes.”
Claire stripped nude and stuffed her exercise clothes into her locker. Then she followed her two companions toward the sound of running water. The three of them walked into the noisy, steamy communal shower area. The floor was warm from the hot water flowing across the tiles. Claire forced herself to keep her eyes open as she stepped in among the class of naked girls.
"What is it, Claire? Are you the shy type?" asked Pamela.
"Yeah," Claire murmured. "I always have been."
"But you said your old school had P.E. classes, too."
"It did. But nudity always makes me uncomfortable."
"I can relate. Everyone is worried about how they look."
Claire nodded, trying to believe that she wouldn't become the center of attention. With a deep breath, she trailed after Pamela toward the showers. Steam enveloped both of them as they entered, partially obscuring their view of the dozen girls already showering. Claire found an unoccupied shower head in the corner, hung her towel on a nearby hook, and stepped under the spray.
The water was warm enough to tingle, but Claire's invulnerable body barely noticed. She was too busy trying to be uninterested in the female bodies around her. She startled when a burst of laughter erupted from behind her.
"Can you believe what Jenny told him then?" someone was asking.
"What did she say?" urged her companion Charlotte. Jenny whispered the embarrassing gossip, but Claire's super hearing made it out clearly and she winced. Charlotte exclaimed, "She didn't!"
Claire risked a glance around. Just as Pamela had promised, nobody was staring her way. The girls were casually chatting to each other, oblivious to being nude. With interest, Claire saw that they were shampooing, something that boys didn't do in a public shower. Girl groups, it seemed, were more predictable than boys. Boys preferred being individualists, always competing. The easy camaraderie the girls maintained stood out as distinct from the boisterous roughhousing of locker-room boys. They interacted by using snapping towels and loud, competitive bragging.
"Earth to Claire," Pamela's voice broke through her thoughts. "You're zoning out."
"Yeah, sorry," Claire replied quickly. She reached for the nearest shampoo bottle just to occupy her nervous hands. "Just thinking about the quiz I’ll have in my next class."
Pamela lowered her voice. "What's going on with you and Pete Ross? He's been asking people about you."
Claire sighed. "He invited me to Homecoming; that’s the story."
Pamela's eyes widened. "No kidding! What did you tell him?"
"I told him I'd think about it. But I'm probably going to say yes."
"Really?" Pamela looked mildly surprised. "I mean, Pete isn't one of the popular boys."
"Why isn’t he popular? What's wrong with Pete?" Claire asked.
"Nothing, except that he’s not exciting. Most girls see him as a dull date."
"What boy types do you go for?" asked Claire.
"Not the safe and polite sort. I like impulsive, wild boys," Pamela said. She stepped toward the shower exit, wringing some wetness from her hair. "But I get it. New school, new town—it makes sense for a girl to start her social life by checking out the other boys while being protected by someone who won't be too fresh or grabby."
The advice made Claire wince. Did most girls feel that way? Girls had mostly ignored Clark. Lana Lang and Clark had been friends since childhood, but she rarely did things together away from home. Though she had dated several other boys over the past couple of years, she had never tried to wheedle a date from Clark.
As the girl from Krypton finished her shower, she claimed a towel of her own and dried both her body and her hair. Wrapped in white and wet terry cloth, she went back to her locker. It had been strange to find herself chatting with a nude girl, but it wasn’t nearly as strange as Claire had expected.
When school let out, Claire decided to call Pete Ross. She reminded herself that being seen dating would show her classmates how ordinary she was. Even Clark had known that girls were always eager to attend parties.
#
Once at home, Claire went straight to the phone in the Kent kitchen. She dialed Pete's number and heard a familiar answering voice.
"Hello? Ross residence."
"Hi, Pete? It's Claire."
He was quiet for a couple seconds. "Claire! Hi! I didn't expect to hear from you...so soon."
Claire tensed. All afternoon, she had prepped mentally for the call, but, at the sound of Pete’s voice, words fled. "I've b-been thinking about your invitation," she finally stammered.
"And?" Pete prompted cautiously.
"And I'd like to go. To Homecoming, I mean. With you."
"T-That's far out!" Pete responded, sounding surprised. "I promise you'll have a boss time. The decorating committee has a 'Starry Night' theme planned this year."
"Sounds neat," Claire said with forced enthusiasm. Superboy had flown among the stars and couldn’t be thrilled by electric lights and cutout paper.
"So, um, Claire, I know I invited you on short notice. If it’s hard for you to find a formal dress, I could ask my cousin to loan you one of hers. She's got several left over from her high school days—"
"I haven't talked to my mom yet. I'll ask her whether getting a dress in time will be a problem."
"Right on. If I can help, just give me a buzz."
Their stiff discussion went on briefly. Then, Claire used homework as an excuse to end it. Back in her room, she flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling.
The door swung in, and Martha smiled into her room. "I overheard. You're going to the dance with Pete! That's wonderful!"
Claire looked at Mrs. Kent with askance. "If you say so."
Mrs. Kent's face lit up. “We'll need to get you a proper dress. Metropolis has an especially good boutique. Mrs. Dutton says the teen girls all love it!
Claire held back a frown. Had her mother forgotten how much she disliked being a girl? "I don’t want you to be raiding the cookie jar over this,” she said. “Pete told me I could borrow an old dress from his cousin."
"Honey, you're precious to me," Martha said warmly. "I'd be delighted to help you find the best dress for your first dance!"
Claire stared. "Ma, I know I’ve never been popular, but this won't be my 'first dance.'"
"But you always went alone, didn't you?"
"You know why I didn't date. My life was already too complicated."
Martha's smile faltered only slightly. "I know the...present situation makes you uncomfortable, Claire. But while you're walking the Yellow Brick Road, why not have a little fun doing it?"
Claire crinkled her nose. How was she supposed to have fun? To make herself girlishly pretty to win smiles from a date felt like a betrayal of Clark’s identity as well as his dignity. But at the same time, she didn’t wish to scold her mother. For some reason, Ma Kent seemed thrilled to have a daughter to fuss over.
"If you still want to spring for the cost of a party dress, Mom, we'll do whatever you think is best," Claire said finally.
#
Metropolis lay just across the Kansas-Missouri line. In the nineteenth century, it was called Kansas City. The adjacent Kansas City in Kansas, however, had kept its original name.
The popular boutique Mrs. Kent had heard about was tucked between a bookstore and a coffee shop on a tree-lined street. A chime rang when they entered. The middle-aged woman behind the counter greeted them. "Welcome to Eloise's. How can I help you ladies today?"
"My daughter needs a dress for her school dance," Martha explained. "Something smart but age-appropriate. She's almost seventeen."
"Mini-dresses are the rage now. Girls have started wearing them at high school affairs. Might your lovely daughter wish to keep up with current fashion?"
"No!" Claire spoke up quickly. "Let's stick with something traditional."
"I couldn't agree more," Martha said with an abashed smile.
The clerk—presumably Eloise herself—emerged from behind the counter and appraised Claire with a professional eye. "Your first formal dance?" she asked kindly.
Claire mutely nodded.
"Well, no wonder you sound nervous. We'll find you something that you’ll feel comfortable wearing," Eloise promised. "What’s your favorite color?"
Claire glanced uncertainly at Martha, who sprang to her aid. "She looks lovely in blue."
Eloise tilted her head, studying Claire. "Yes, with those eyes, blue would be striking.
In the hour that followed, the girl put on more dresses than she had so far in her entire life as Claire. She rejected most of the outfits for being too revealing, too juvenile, or too elaborate.
Finally, Claire tried on a black dress. It fell in a smooth line to just below her knees, and the slick fabric caught and reflected the shop’s overhead lights each time she shifted position. Thin straps framed her bare shoulders, while the small notch in the neckline drew the eye as strongly as a fisherman’s lure caught trout.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Claire experienced a strange feeling. She had never admitted to herself that she was pretty. But now, suddenly, her cheek felt hot with chagrin. Was it because it was so obvious that wearing good clothes would make her every bit as attractive as any other girl at Smallville High?
Claire stepped out of the changing room to ask her mother's opinion. The old woman gasped with obvious delight.
"A dress of this style should be worn with high-heeled pumps," Eloise suggested. "You ought to set her hair in a soft bouffant or a flip style, maybe with a coordinating satin ribbon."
Claire ignored this advice and took another look in the mirror. She partly admired what she saw, but her other half shivered with apprehension. What if Shar-La’s magic spell were a permanent one? If she remained female, what sort of life awaited her? Claire tried not to think about the future.
“I like this style better than any other I’ve seen," she admitted to the shopkeeper.
Eloise nodded approvingly. "The style suits you perfectly. Classic. In it, you won't be trying too hard." She glanced to Martha. "I expected the young lady to choose blue, Mrs. Kent, but sable wonderfully complements her lustrous hair."
While Eloise worked on pinning the dress for minor alterations, Martha continued to shop for accessories. She selected a pair of sable, high-heeled pumps and showed them to Claire. The latter only shrugged, and Mrs. Kent took this as approval.
The purchases being made, Claire hurried back into her regular clothes. The black dress belonged in a box. The girl wished to avoid wearing it more than necessary. It reflected an entirely different persona for her. That version of Claire Kent was a person whom she didn’t know. The new girl in town preferred to remain the person she had always been before.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5
