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Sitting on a rooftop in downtown Metropolis, he heard Shazam coming miles away. You wouldn’t need enhanced senses to hear him coming before you saw him. He wasn’t quiet, or subtle. He moved through the air like a lightning-powered brick. Getting to his feet, Clark waited the last half minute.
With a fizz of lightning Shazam flashed to a stop above the rooftop. The static generated by his abrupt arrival made the hairs on Clark’s arms stand on end.
“Hey – I’m here,” he said. “What’s the emergency?”
He’d made the point of keeping his request simple. He certainly hadn’t made it out to be urgent. “No emergency,” he said, shaking his head. “I just wanna talk.”
Shazam lifted his chin, shoulders squaring up as if for a fight. “Oh, yeah? Is it work stuff?”
Clark shrugged. “Kinda.”
“Is it important?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
“Okay, then.” Shazam nodded. “Shoot.” He made no move to join Clark on the rooftop. It felt – unbalanced, having to look up at him. He couldn’t exactly complain; he’d conducted enough conversations from similar vantage points.
He tried to think how to put it. “I was actually hoping to talk to Billy.”
Shazam looked askance, a smirk spreading across his face. “Jeez, what is with you guys?” he said. “You are talking to me.”
He could have said you know darn well what I mean. He could have insisted. He wasn’t really in any place to insist. What was he gonna do? Must as he might try to imply otherwise, this wasn’t strictly League business.
“How about this,” he offered. “I lose the costume, you lose the costume. Sound fair?”
Shazam squinted down at him, considering the question. After a second, slowly, he descended. “Okay.” His feet touched the rooftop. “We can do that.”
*
On the street corner, Clark wiped stray dust off his glasses and adjusted the sit of them on his face. The anxious part of him was beginning to wonder if he’d been stood up – but nearby there was a crash of lightning.
Billy wandered out of an alleyway down the street, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. Clark surveyed him as he approached, making sure – more on reflex than anything else – that he was looking okay.
“Hey, there,” he said.
“Hey.” Billy spread his hands in his hoodie pockets. “So. Where’re we going?”
It was an old-fashioned place not far from the Planet office. Diner-style booths. Colourful fittings. A jukebox playing covers of hits from the fifties. Clark stirred his coffee. Across the table, Billy took a spoonful of ice cream from his sundae and inspected it.
“You know,” he said after a moment. “You could’ve just told me you wanted to take me out for ice cream. You didn’t have to be all secretive about it.”
He’d already made up his mind that honesty was gonna be the best policy. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Why wouldn’t I come?” said Billy, semi-melted ice cream dripping from his spoon. “I like ice cream.” He shoved the spoonful into his mouth and said around it, “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”
“Lactose intolerant people,” said Clark.
“They make special ice cream for that these days.” Billy teased the wafer out of his sundae and munched on it thoughtfully. “So,” he said. “Are you guys kicking me out of the League?”
“What?” Clark almost choked on his own ice cream. “What in the – why would you think that?”
Billy shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I figured you’d only be buying me ice cream if it was bad news. It was that or somebody’s dying. Is someone dying?”
Clark laid his hands on the table. “I don’t have any bad news,” he said. “I just wanna have a conversation. Can we have a conversation?”
“Do I get to pick what it’s about?” said Billy. “Orrrr did you have something in mind.”
“Can you just let me speak?”
Billy looked nonplussed. “Sorry, I didn’t realise I was stopping you.”
Clark adjusted his glasses, and sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Billy. It’s like this.”
“Uh-huh,” said Billy.
“I think you and I got off to a bad start,” said Clark. “And I was hoping we could maybe – make a fresh one.”
“Sure.” Billy ate some more ice cream. “Does it have to be a whole conversation? Or can we just agree that we’re chill now.”
“I think there’s some stuff we oughta hash out,” Clark said.
Billy thoughtfully sipped his Coca-Cola. He wet his lips. After a moment, he said, “Okay. Can I be blunt with you?”
“Honestly,” Clark spread his hands, “I’d prefer if you were blunt.”
“Cool,” said Billy. He ate more ice cream. “I’ve been kind of a dick,” he went on flatly. “I’m not so much of a dick that I don’t know when I’m being a dick. But the way I see it, when I first started working with the League I was real nice to you and you were a dick to me so I’m not gonna apologise for being a dick right back at you. So, uh.” He toyed with his ice cream, then jabbing his spoon across the table said, “You start. Okay?”
“Okay.” Clark shunted his glasses once again up his nose. “Where do you want me to start?”
“You could explain why you were such a dick to me when I literally didn’t do anything?” Billy offered.
Clark heaved a sigh and tried to think where to start with that. It was probably best to be direct. “I didn’t like you,” he confessed.
“Yeah, you know,” Billy stabbed his spoon into his ice cream, “I figured.”
“I need you to know,” said Clark. “I only felt that way cause I didn’t know about your situation –”
“Oh, whatever!” said Billy. “I’m still the same person – I mean like, mostly – if you didn’t like me before then you don’t like me now.”
Clark rubbed his forehead. “I like you,” he said.
“No, you don’t,” Billy said. “You just feel obliged to be nice to me cause I’m a kid. Well, screw that. I’d rather you were just an asshole.”
“I misjudged you,” said Clark. “I changed my mind. You never change your mind about anyone?”
Billy screwed up his face. “Not usually.”
“I try to make a habit of it,” said Clark. “People will surprise you if you let them.”
“Sure, if you say so,” said Billy. “So. Why didn’t you like me?”
Honesty was the best policy, he told himself once again. “When I thought you were an adult, I thought you were – irresponsible,” he said. “I thought you were reckless. I didn’t like the way you threw your powers around in public. I was worried you were gonna frighten people. To be blunt, I was afraid you were gonna hurt someone.”
“Hurt someone?” Billy echoed.
“Not on purpose,” he added hastily. “Not on purpose. I was just – worried.”
“And now you know I’m a kid you don’t think any of that?”
“I guess,” said Clark. “Now I know the truth I think you’ve got an excuse.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Billy shot back. “I don’t want you to treat me differently cause I’m a kid.”
He wanted to say that he couldn’t help it – but the last thing he wanted to do was patronise Billy. The trouble was, he knew how it felt to not be allowed to just be a kid.
Go home, he wanted to say. Do your homework. Play video games with your brothers. Find something else to do. Find anything else to do.
“I just wish you’d told us the truth from the start,” he said. “I knew you were keeping something from us. I think we all did. It would have made things a lot easier if we’d known.”
“Right, like you’ve never kept any secrets from the League,” said Billy. “And don’t tell me it’s different. If you’re entitled to be private about stuff then so am I.”
“Okay,” said Clark. “Okay! You have a point. Maybe things would have gone smoother if I’d been more honest with you guys.”
“Yeah,” said Billy. “Probably. So, what made you think I was irresponsible?”
Clark dug his spoon deeper into his melting ice cream and reminded himself that causing some level of offense was probably inevitable, if they were gonna hash everything out properly. “I didn’t like your attitude,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you were taking things seriously. You seemed to be having a whole lot of fun.”
“Uh-huh,” said Billy. “Yeah. Well. I was.”
“I didn’t care for it,” said Clark. He stopped short of saying that he still didn’t care for it – but it must have shown, cause Billy gave him a hard look.
Setting aside his spoon, he said, “Okay. Look. I’ll apologise for being such a dick to you. I’m down to apologise for lying. But I’m not gonna apologise for enjoying this.”
“It’s not a game, Billy –”
“I know that,” said Billy. “You think I don’t know that? You just don’t get it,” he added before Clark could get a word in. “You wanna know why you don’t get it?”
Clark shrugged. “Enlighten me.”
“You don’t get it cause you’re – you – all the time,” Billy said. “You don’t know how it feels to turn it off and off. Okay? You don’t know how good it feels being that strong till you go back to being a regular person.”
He could have argued that he hadn’t been born the way he was – but it wasn’t much of a retort. After all, it had been a long time. Most of his life. He couldn’t claim to remember exactly what it felt like to be ordinary – and he had, of course, never been human.
“So, no,” Billy went on. “I’m not gonna apologise for having a good time with this.” He stabbed his spoon back into his sundae. “Shazam’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “If you don’t like it you can go right to hell.”
Clark rubbed a hand over his mouth, considering how best to answer. He settled for, “Okay.”
“I mean, I never thought I’d get to do anything like this,” said Billy, some combination of ice cream and spite loosening his tongue. “You know? I always figured I was gonna end up back on the streets or on drugs or in juvie or something.”
“In juvie?” said Clark, startled. “In juvie for what?”
“Who knows.” Billy shrugged. “I’m just the kind of kid who’d wind up in juvie, I guess. People are always saying so.”
“People?” Clark echoed. “What kind of people?”
“Oh, you know,” said Billy airily. “Teachers. Social workers. Foster parents. Those kinds of people.”
“Not your current foster parents –”
“No,” said Billy, very quickly. His face dropped, as if contrite at having merely implied it. “No,” he said again, shaking his head. “They don’t say stuff like that. They’re not like that.” He looked down at the remains of his sundae, stirring it uneasily.
Clark shoved aside his empty bowl. “Well,” he said, trying to keep it light. “I hope you didn’t take any of it to heart. You’re a good kid. You know that, right?”
Still morosely stirring his ice cream, Billy said, quietly, “I’m not, though.”
“What’s that?” said Clark.
Billy raised his eyes from his ice cream. “You guys are always saying stuff like that, but I’m really not.” He bit his lip, and went on with the tone of one confessing to a crime, “I’m not like you guys. I’m kind of a screw up.”
He leaned in a little closer. “What do you mean?”
“You guys are all – really good people.” Billy still had a guilty, furtive look about him. “I’m not like that. I’m trying to be better. You know? I really am. But the truth is I’m just kind of an asshole.”
Clark considered that, as a concept. He lifted his spoon, and toyed with the dregs of his ice cream. He hitched his glasses up his nose. “Uh, Billy,” he said. “What do you think being a good person is, if it’s not waking up every day and choosing to do good?”
“Well –” A thoughtful look crossed Billy’s face. “I never thought of it like that.”
“Most people don’t.” Clark rested his elbows on the table. “I don’t believe in good and bad people.”
“What, so,” Billy said around his spoon. “You don’t think you’re a good person?”
“I think I’m a person who tries to make good choices,” said Clark. “And I think that’s all any of us can ever do.”
Billy took his spoon out of his mouth, and considered. “You’re so weird,” he said. “You know that?”
Clark chuckled. “It’s, uh,” he said. “Been noted.”
“Okay, well.” Billy scooped up melting ice cream. “So long as you’re aware.”
Heaving a sigh, Clark said, “You wanna know what I think?”
“Uh,” said Billy, stirring the remains of his sundae around. “I think you’re gonna tell me what you think.”
“I don’t think you’re any kind of screw up,” said Clark. “I think you’re doing your best. I don’t think anyone before the, uh. Wizard. Gave you a lot of chances to make good choices.”
Billy took on that guilty look again. “I’ve had a lot of chances,” he said. “I just didn’t take them.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Clark. “Why not?”
Billy shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “A lot of reasons.”
“Well,” Clark said. “I wouldn’t feel bad. I passed by a lot of chances of my own, before committing to this.”
“Really,” said Billy, incredulous.
“Sure,” said Clark. “And I was a lot older than you, too.”
“That’s crazy.” He was more or less done with his ice cream, just some melted dregs left. After a contemplative moment he said, “I can’t imagine you – not being you.”
“It took me a long road to get here,” Clark said. “You’re just a kid, Billy. You’ve got a long road ahead of you.”
Nudging aside his bowl, Billy said, “You don’t have to pretend to be okay with this. I know you don’t like it.”
Clark pushed up his glasses, considering how to respond. “Now, Billy –”
“Why do you wear those stupid things when we both know you don’t need ‘em?” Billy squinted at his eyewear.”
“Force of habit,” said Clark, adjusting them. “Billy. I still don’t know if I think you’re the right person for this job – but,” he added before Billy, who’d taken a piqued breath, could interrupt him. “I’ve given it a lot of thought and I don’t know if there’s an exact right person for the job.”
“Probably not,” Billy agreed.
“I’m not gonna object to you doing this,” Clark said. “I just don’t like to think of you not getting to be a kid.”
Billy’s mouth twisted. “I think it’s kinda late for that,” he said. “I don’t have a lot of kid years left in me.”
Ever hopeful, Clark said, “More than you’d think.”
Toying with his empty soda glass, Billy said, “You really think so?”
“I know so,” said Clark.
Billy nodded, though whether or not he actually agreed – or even really understood – was hard to make out. Then, sighing, he said, “You wanna get out of here?”
*
“Okay,” said Billy. “Yeah. Here. Here’s good.”
Here was over a thousand feet up in the clear air, steaks of cloud overhead and beneath them, the whole city of Metropolis spread out below them in a carpet of rooftops and spires and roads. Holding the kid to his chest, Clark said “Are you, uh. Sure?” He swallowed. “You don’t want to go – higher?”
“This is plenty high enough.” Billy wriggled in his grip, trying to get free.
Clark didn’t let go. “I just don’t want you getting hurt –”
“God, will you just relax?” said Billy. “I know what I’m doing. I do this with my brother all the time, okay? Will you just let me go already?”
It was a long, long way down. “Oh, God in heaven,” he breathed.
“Come on.” Billy squirmed more incisively. “Am I gonna have to zap you? Cause I will zap you.”
There was a good chance that wasn’t an idle threat. Steeling himself, breathing in, he relaxed his grip.
Billy dropped down like a stone below the cloud and for a heart-stopping moment he was out of sight; then from beneath him Clark heard, “Shazam!” and he had just enough presence of mind to launch himself out of the way of the impending thunderbolt.
A couple of seconds later, Shazam rose sedately up through the clouds. Giving Clark an imperious look he said, “You were a real baby about that. You know?”
Clark opted to ignore the insult. “Never ask me to do that again.”
“Noted.” Shazam threw him a salute. “So. Where’re we going?”
The mountains stretched out before them, crisp and clean and blue-white. The air smelled like snow and pine and faintly of ozone. Below them the lake was still and dark as glass. The sky was a deep blue in the early dusk.
Next to him, there was a scrunch as Shazam ate chips. “Great view,” he remarked. “Come up here often?”
“Whenever I need some peace.” Clark lounged back on the ledge and considered Shazam. He considered the pair of them, so tiny against the vastness of the mountain at their backs, so vibrantly blue and red against the green-grey of the wilderness.
“Hm?” Shazam caught his eye. “Oh, sorry. You don’t mind if I eat, do you?”
“Not at all,” said Clark. “Just make sure you take your trash with you.”
“What?” said Shazam. “What kind of animal do you think I am?” He shoved a handful of chips into his mouth. “Yeah, I’ll take my trash.” Scrunching up the bag in his hand, he sighed. “So do you just come out here by yourself and think your thoughts?”
“That’s right,” said Clark.
“Cool.” Shazam nodded and ate some more chips. “I like the Grand Canyon, personally. But, you know,” he added hastily, inclining his head at the view out over the lake. “This is real nice.”
“Less tourists,” said Clark. “Watch this.” He selected a flat piece of stone from the ledge beside him and turned it over, brushing off the dust. Then, taking aim, he tossed it at the lake.
The stone skipped across the surface with a crack, crack, crack that echoed around the valley and beside him Shazam began to laugh. “Oh, wow,” he chuckled. “You big nerd.”
Clark offered him a stone. “Wanna try?”
“Sure.” Sitting aside the empty chip packet Shazam wiped at his hands and accepted it.
He flung the stone down at the lake. It skipped, thunderously, once, twice – and struck the cliff beyond with a crash that shook down rock dust. “Ouch,” said Clark, wincing.
“Yikes,” said Shazam. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Clark selected a new stone. “Want another shot?”
“Sure.” Shazam accepted the offer. “Let’s go.”