The Kents weren't all bad.

Working on the farm was tiring and difficult, that was for sure, but not in the way Lex expected. Lex absolutely exhausted himself on the first day, thinking he'd be punished physically if he didn't work hard enough, but Mr. Kent never, ever touched him, except once as part of showing him how to use a tool properly. On that occasion, when Mr. Kent reached toward him, Lex accidentally flinched, and Mr. Kent looked genuinely confused as to why.

Mr. Kent was a lot like Lex's dad in the sense that he gave orders in a voice that clearly expected to be obeyed without question. But he was nothing like Lex's dad in that when Clark complained he was tired, they finished the task they were on, then they all took a long break and had fresh baked cookies and milk. And when Lex woke up stiff and sore on the second day and struggled to get started in the morning, Mr. Kent gave him easier chores until his muscles had loosened. Lex was mortified that he'd let his weakness show, but he was thankful for the mercy. His own dad would have worked him even harder if he'd let on that he was in pain.

While Mr. Kent remained fairly distant, focusing most of his attention on Clark refraining from making much conversation with Lex, Mrs. Kent couldn't seem to stop asking Lex questions. She asked him about what kinds of foods he liked to eat and if he was getting enough, about whether he was sure his room was warm enough at night and if he was sleeping well, about how Mr. Kent was treating him and whether he missed his dad.

Lex found it difficult to keep himself distant from her, but it was absolutely necessary. People like Lex didn't get to have people like Mrs. Kent in their lives. As unfair as his own mom's death had been, it had been some sort of cosmic justice to Lex that he had lost her. The one time Mrs. Kent actually tried to hug him, he let himself melt into the impossible warmth and softness that was her embrace for all of one second before his very soul felt like it was burning within him, and he couldn't pull away fast enough. Whenever Mrs. Kent asked questions about his wellbeing and preferences, Lex gave her more or less non-committal answers, not wanting to worry her—until the time she asked if he wanted a second helping of her homemade pie. That was emphatic yes.

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But the best, and thus most complicated, part of summer with the Kents was Clark. Clark followed along with everything Lex did around the farm, even when Lex really had no idea what he was doing, and he invited Lex to play with him in most of their free time. He chattered constantly about things he wanted to do with Lex, about his friends and his school, and about the farm. The few times Lex responded with any information about himself, Clark reacted with amazement and wonder, like Lex was the coolest person he'd ever met.

Lex tried to convince himself to be irritated about having an annoying nine-year-old following him around all the time, but it was really difficult to be upset with Clark. True, Clark was enough of a distraction that Lex had little time to think about running away, but he also didn't have much time to think about Duncan. Lex did, however, spend a lot of time thinking about his twelfth birthday party that no one had attended, and how much different it might have felt if Clark had been there on that day. He was sure nothing would have stopped Clark from attending.

Except maybe Lex's father.

Lex couldn't be getting used to this world. It wasn't his reality. And yet, he found himself putting off his departure.

It had been a little over a week when Clark finally asked, "Why are you staying here this summer?"

Lex was washing his hands at the kitchen sink when Clark asked; Clark was waiting for the sink. Lex decided there wasn't really any point in lying. "My dad sent me here to teach me a lesson."

"What lesson?"

Lex breathed in to answer, but he shook his head. He didn't know exactly what the lesson was. He never knew. The beating after Julian's death had at least been a clear punishment for a crime, but the death had also been an accident. There was nothing he could learn from that, except maybe to be more careful. And sending him away to boarding school was more an act of control than anything. If anything, the lesson there was just that Lex couldn't do anything to earn his father's love.

Then again, maybe the lesson was a little clearer this time. Lex couldn't get it out of his head that his father had been more upset by his friendship with Duncan in the first place, than by Duncan's death or Lex's role in it. Like sending Lex to the farm was his way of saying, You like poor people so much? Try being one of them.

"Lex?" Clark asked. "What's your dad trying to teach you?"

"That I'm his son, and I'd better not forget it."

With that, Lex walked away from the sink. He didn't even bother to dry his hands on the towel.

He would leave tonight, after Clark had gone to bed.

He didn't belong here. He never would.