Smallville Elementary, science lab.
The old teacher stood at the front, trying in vain to calm things down.
But clearly, it wasn't working.
Worthington, surrounded by his classmates' laughter, was glaring daggers at Dio.
That guy.
Always better at everything.
Popular, handsome, strong, smart, and—damn it—taller than me!
In fourth grade and already a whole head taller!
Ugh!
Taking a deep breath, Worthington seized his chance when the teacher sent Dio to grab the juicer.
He quickly sprinkled white powder into Dio's lemon juice.
He'd been fed this stuff once for constipation, and man, did it hurt…
Heh.
This was gonna make Dio look like a fool!
Then everyone would see who's really the boss of this class!
Me, Worthington, that's who!
"Oh?"
Back at his seat, Dio's eyes narrowed.
Worthington's such an idiot.
White powder floating in the lemon juice? Did he think Dio wouldn't notice?
Kids are so childish. But, come to think of it…
It's been a while since anyone tried to mess with him.
Hmm.
A transfer student's a rare breed.
The World!
In the frozen moment of stopped time, The World appeared, effortlessly swapping their beakers.
A few minutes later—
"That's it for today's experiment, class!" the teacher announced. "You all saw the lemon pulp's texture under the microscope, right?"
"Haha, alright, kids, time to wrap up!"
"One last thing!"
"Let's all raise a glass and drink the lemon juice you squeezed yourselves."
"It'll help you digest lunch better."
"And if anyone's worried about the sourness, come grab some sugar cubes—I've got plenty up here!"
The teacher took a sip first.
Worthington, smirking at Dio, chugged his down in one go.
A few minutes later—
"Pfft!!!"
Worthington's face turned lemon-yellow, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
The lab erupted in chaos, students gawking as the rich kid started breakdancing in pain.
"What's going on?"
"Is he bloated?"
"Worthington, did you eat too much this morning?"
Dio stood up, feigning concern. "Worthington, didn't the teacher say lemon helps with digestion? Hurry and eat some—it might help."
Nodding frantically, Worthington didn't think twice. He grabbed two lemons and shoved them in his mouth.
The moment the lemon pulp burst—
"—Hack! Cough! Cough!!"
His face went from green to purple, tears and snot streaming down.
"You… you…"
The rich kid rolled on the floor, overwhelmed by the horrific taste.
Even the teacher looked pained, unable to get close. "Worthington, stop rolling, stop rolling!"
"Oh!"
"Worthington!"
"How long did your dad let those lemons sit?!"
"Teacher, please, stop writhing—oh!"
Not enough chaos yet.
Dio scanned the stunned crowd with a mischievous grin and shouted, "Worthington, what's that on the ceiling?!"
"Aaaaah!"
At Dio's panicked cry, everyone bolted out of the classroom in terror.
Looked like they were scared of a biochemical attack.
Left behind were a writhing Worthington and…
"Clark! Get out here!" the teacher yelled from the doorway. "Good kid, Worthington's in a bad spot. I've called security—they'll handle this!"
Clark frowned.
Honestly, the smell hit him harder than most.
But…
Seeing Worthington wriggling in agony, Clark held his breath, rushed forward, grabbed his collar, and shut his eyes tight.
Then he dragged him down the hall like a sack of rotten potatoes.
Worthington's wails echoed through the corridor.
"Urgh—wait! Clark, thank you, but ease up a bit!"
With Kryptonian super speed, Clark made the ordeal last only seconds.
Thud!
He kicked open a stall door and tossed Worthington in like a bowling ball.
"God bless you, Worthington…"
Clark made the sign of the cross.
But—
With a sudden rush of water, Worthington's pig-like squeal came from the stall: "Clark, the school's toilets have auto-flush!"
Amid the gushing water, Clark sighed.
God bless me.
Here's hoping the cafeteria doesn't serve curry for lunch.
---
Noon, cafeteria.
Carrying his tray through the noisy crowd, Clark caught snippets of whispers:
"Did you hear? Worthington sprayed everywhere in chem class…"
"That's him, right?"
"Clark actually touched him? Gross, isn't he scared of catching something?"
The blue-eyed boy ignored the chatter. Uncle Lock had said it was just a bit of rough weather.
It wouldn't stop him from growing or making his own choices.
He quietly made his way to the corner of the cafeteria—
There, Dio sat alone by the window, his slender fingers gracefully slicing a pork chop.
Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a saintly glow on his blond hair.
But oddly, the three tables around him were empty.
Clark pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Dio," he started, keeping his voice low. "About what happened in class…"
"Hm?"
Dio didn't look up, his red eyes fixed on the pork chop's grain. "How's Worthington doing?"
"Dio, did you use that… World thing?"
"No need for that." Clark hesitated. "Worthington was just…"
The knife paused midair.
"Clark, today's a special day for us. I don't wanna argue."
"But Dio, Worthington—"
"Clark!" Dio hissed, lowering his voice. "I really don't wanna fight!"
"If he'd succeeded…"
"Who'd be the one stuck in the bathroom right now?"
"Pitying your enemy is betraying yourself."
Clark froze, stunned by Dio's barrage.
He clenched his fists, then slowly relaxed, wanting to argue but unsure how.
Uncle Lock hadn't covered this.
Standing tall was something to be proud of, but falling didn't mean failure.
But what if…
Someone deliberately knocked over the wheat?
Fallen stalks wouldn't make it to next year.
They'd rot, mold, and become fertilizer for the "lucky" ones.
"Next time," Clark finally mumbled, "at least tell me."
Dio raised an eyebrow, surprised by the response.
"Eat." He pushed over an untouched blueberry pudding. "I don't like pudding anyway."
"Consider it your birthday gift, big guy."
"Mm."
"Happy birthday, Dio."
The sunlight stayed bright, the cafeteria stayed loud.
On a tree branch outside the window, a black robin tilted its head at the brothers before flapping off into the sky.
What a drag~
Another year of revising and rewriting.