After Jonathan helped Clark learn how to gauge his strength better, and after the little guy proved he could handle himself at Pete's birthday party, Clark started inviting friends over to the farm more often. Usually it was just Pete, but he sometimes had Greg over, too. Martha tried having Nell and Lana visit from next door a few times, but for some reason, Clark had a tendency to shy away from Lana. Jonathan wasn't sure whether it was because of that horrible experience he'd had at their house—which they still didn't understand—or because Clark had a crush on her. Jonathan figured time would tell.

A month into the school year, Clark's teacher held parent teacher conferences. Jonathan and Martha drove to the school in silent anticipation, but the teacher said that he paid attention in class, he did his work, he made friends, and he was learning to read quickly. Jonathan's relief during the meeting was immeasurable—for the first time, he had hope that his son was going to be able to live a normal life.

After the meeting, Jonathan and Martha picked up Clark from the playground, where he was playing with the other kids who usually stayed for the after-school day care. Martha scooped him up into her arms and kissed him on the forehead. He wrinkled up his face, but then kissed her cheek.

"What did the teacher say?" Clark asked softly.

"That you've been very good," she said.

Clark let out his breath, and Martha chattered away about how proud she was, hugging and kissing him all the way to the truck.

Martha continued to talk all the way home, but Clark was oddly quiet. When Jonathan suggested stopping for ice cream, Clark just shrugged.

Jonathan raised his eyebrows and looked over at Martha, whose jaw had dropped. She gave Jonathan a meaningful look, and he nodded.

Jonathan took Clark out to the yard to work on chores for the afternoon. Jonathan showed Clark how to pull up weeds, and Clark quietly obeyed his instructions. Then Jonathan stood off to the side for a moment, watching him work. He had never seen his son so quiet.

"Hey." Jonathan crouched down beside where Clark was working. "What's on your mind, little guy?"

"I'm pulling weeds. You said to."

"You've been quiet. Is something bothering you?"

Clark shrugged.

Jonathan put a hand on his back, rubbing gently at first, then more firmly when he remembered he could. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Clark sniffed and sat back on the dirt. "Steve punched Justin yesterday. Twice."

Those weren't familiar names. Jonathan blinked a couple of times. "Are these boys in your class?"

"Justin is. Steve is a third grader."

Jonathan felt a bit sick to his stomach. "Did the teachers know about it?"

"Yeah. Justin was bleeding when he came back to class, and Miss Swanson made him tell."

"Did she help?"

"Justin got an ice pack and a band-aid. Steve got detention for a week."

"That's good." At least something had been done—Jonathan would have been much more concerned if the teachers didn't know, or if they had done nothing.

"It didn't help Justin! He still had to get punched!" Clark rubbed his eye with the back of his hand. "I could have stopped Steve."

"Clark, you know you're not supposed to show anyone your powers." It hurt Jonathan to say it. He could feel Clark's indignation, and he didn't blame his son one bit; Jonathan could feel himself becoming angry as well, though Clark's level of empathy was surprising, considering the little guy was only five.

Clark whimpered. "I know, but . . . Steve punched Justin, and Justin started crying, and Steve called him a baby and punched him again."

Jonathan could hear his own pulse in his ears. He thanked God that he didn't have the abilities Clark had—Jonathan would certainly have misused them in this kind of situation. "Are you afraid Steve is going to come after you?"

"No, I'm good at running away and hiding."

"Okay. You don't let anyone see your speed, do you?"

"No . . ." Clark's wide, round eyes looked up into Jonathan's.

Jonathan frowned—there was something else on Clark's mind. He'd said Steve punched Justin yesterday; maybe something had happened today. "What's wrong, son? Did Steve try to hurt you?"

Clark's eyes shone. "He tried to hurt Pete."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Oh." Jonathan swallowed hard, afraid to ask. "Um . . . what happened?"

"I pushed Steve through a door. It broke."

For a moment, Jonathan felt like his chest was caving in. It was less than an hour ago that he'd started to hope Clark could have a normal life.

This was a part of having supernatural abilities that Jonathan hadn't really thought about. Every bully Clark encountered, he could stop, with little or no effort. But the risk of exposing himself, and the risk of hurting the bully more seriously than he had intended, would always haunt him. This was only the beginning, too. All too soon, Clark would learn that schoolyard bullies were the least of the world's evils. He'd have to choose his battles carefully; there would be times when he'd have to stand by and let things happen, watching injuries and maybe even deaths he could have prevented.

The weight of the responsibility of raising this child pressed upon Jonathan's shoulders. If he and Martha raised the boy right, he could be a hero. If they failed, he could be a tyrant. Jonathan knew that that should be his primary concern—the question of whether Clark became the hero or the villain. But Jonathan couldn't hold onto that concern. The images he'd impressed upon Clark—of test tubes and needles and scalpels and cages—flashed through Jonathan's mind and crippled him. He could only thing about his son's safety.

So even though it was wrong, Jonathan didn't ask about whether Steve was okay. He didn't even ask about Pete. The first thing Jonathan asked was, "Did anyone else see you do it?"

"Just Steve and Pete."

Jonathan nodded. He doubted Steve would tell anyone about it. A third grader wouldn't admit to having been beaten by a kindergartener, and if he did, he was unlikely to be believed. Served him right. Pete, on the other hand, might try to talk about what he'd seen. But Pete was five. He also probably wouldn't be taken seriously. "That's good."

"Daddy, are the bad scientiss gonna find out?" Clark's lower lip had begun to tremble.

"Come here, son." Jonathan sat beside Clark on the dirt and lifted the child onto his lap, holding him tightly against his chest and rocking a little. "I think you're safe this time. But you're going to need to be more careful in the future."

"But Pete was gonna get punched."

"I know." It was on the tip of Jonathan's tongue to tell his son he might have to let it happen next time, but he just couldn't get the words out. Instead, he just said, "But you still need to be more careful. We've talked about this, son."

"Okay, Daddy."

Jonathan held his son tighter. There was a massive difference between the way Clark had approached his father the last time he'd hurt someone, as compared to this time. The last time, he'd been a mess of shaking and sobbing, while this time, he was quiet and pensive—worried, but not an emotional wreck.

Jonathan suspected there were a lot of reasons for the gap in emotional response. One reason might be that Clark didn't feel as guilty about attacking Steve as he did about accidentally hurting Greg. His actions had also been intentional this time—he didn't feel afraid of himself, because he was in control of his strength. He'd known exactly what he was doing.

Another reason was that he hadn't been caught this time. If Clark's teacher hadn't mentioned it at the parent teacher conference, she probably didn't know. And of course, since there were no more birthday parties in the near future from which Jonathan might keep him home, Clark didn't fear any severe punishment from Jonathan. Regardless of his level of empathy, concern for himself was going to affect him strongly. He was still only five.

But Jonathan hoped there was more to it than that. The last time Clark had approached Jonathan with an incident like this, Clark had been uncertain of their ability to get through it as a family, insecure of his father's forgiveness for having misused his abilities. Jonathan hoped Clark had more confidence now, and Jonathan had to prove to him that his confidence wasn't misplaced.

Clark squirmed a little in Jonathan's arms. "Daddy, am I in trouble?"

Jonathan winced and held his son a little tighter. Letting this go completely would send the wrong message. "Just a little bit. We're going to go inside, and you're going to sit in your room for a few minutes to think about how you can be more careful next time."

"Sorry." A couple of quiet sobs shook his little body.

Jonathan's eyes stung, but he kept his voice firm. "Let's go in."

He carried his son up to his room, where he placed him on his bed. Clark grabbed onto his pillow and buried his face, and Jonathan left him to think while he walked down to the kitchen.

Martha walked over to him from the stove as soon as she saw him coming down. "What's going on?"

Such a mix of emotions had overcome Jonathan while talking to Clark that he was surprised by the one that arose as he breathed in to tell Martha the story. Such powerful pride filled him that he felt ready to burst. "A school bully tried to harass Pete. Clark shoved the bully through a door so hard it broke."

Martha gasped and brought a hand to her mouth. "Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone's okay. He's on time-out for not being careful with his powers."

"For hurting the bully?"

"Uh . . . yeah." Jonathan supposed he hadn't really addressed that part of it with Clark. There were so many nuances to the situation, and Jonathan had wanted to keep things as simple as possible. Of course, now, he was going to make it more complicated. He had to impress upon Clark the seriousness of risking someone seeing his powers, but he also wanted to recognize his bravery and compassion for his friend.

"Well, that's an important lesson for him to learn."

"I know, but it broke my heart to send him to his room. It was a tough day for him, Martha."

"Well, bring him down when you're ready to let him out. We can make cookies."

Clark was sitting up on his bed when Jonathan arrived, his favorite blanket wrapped around himself. His eyes were big and shiny. "Can I come out of time-out now?"

"Almost." Jonathan sat down next to him on the bed. "What did you learn?"

"I have to be more careful."

"Why do you need to be more careful?"

"Because I can't let anyone see my powers. 'Cause the bad scientiss will find out."

"Good boy." Jonathan took Clark's little hand in his. "Son, I'm proud of you."

"Why?"

"Because even though you did the wrong thing today, and you weren't careful enough, you were a good friend to Pete."

Clark smiled. "Pete didn't have to get punched."

"That's exactly right." Jonathan tousled his hair and kissed his forehead. "And that's why you have to be careful. If the bad scientists take you away, there will be no one left to help Pete."

"Oh." Clark nodded.

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah. I have to be sneaky to help people."

That was good enough for Jonathan. He scooped up Clark into his arms and headed out of his room. "Right now, Mom needs you to help her with something. But you don't have to be sneaky about it."

"What?"

"She needs your help making cookies."

Clark bounced a little in Jonathan's arms. "I can help! I'm the best helper!"

Jonathan gave his son an extra squeeze before setting him down. "I know you are, little guy," he said softly.