Chapter 10: My Sixth Grader Is an Alien

“There’s no one coming; let’s go.”

Lois and Clark stepped out from behind a tree onto Radnor Cliff Crescent in Sandgate, Kent. They’d tried Wells’s home in London first. While the address was still there, it appeared to be an all-new building. The home the author had lived in had been razed.

“This has got to be it, Lois. This home was custom-built for him; it would be the easiest place to hide something.”

“Maybe the location is a hint too, Farmboy — Kent.” They strolled down the road towards the coast, moving to the side to let a car pass.

As they turned the bend, Spade House, Wells’s home for a decade, came into view. They walked up to a sign that stood in front.

“‘Wells House Nursing Home,’” read Lois. “I wonder what he’d make of that?”

“So what do you think?” teased Clark. “Knock on the front door?”

Lois rolled her eyes and dragged her husband off to the side of the building. “It’s not going to be in a filing cabinet. If he wanted it to survive this long he’d put it in the building itself.”

Clark lowered his glasses and peered at the walls and foundation. Slowly he walked around towards the back, Lois trailing a couple of steps behind him. Fortunately, that side had no ground floor windows, being close to the cliff face.

Suddenly, Clark stopped. Visible only to his eyes, the back of a large foundation stone was inlaid with Superman’s shield.

He walked over and examined the foundation around the stone. There was something that looked like a locking mechanism. It was quite elaborate.

“What do you see?” asked Lois, excited.

“Superman’s shield. And nearby… some kind of… lock?” He studied the mechanism, and saw that it was interconnected in such a way that four different stones had to be pressed in a certain sequence.

He crouched down and pushed the stones in the proper order; it required a force no ordinary human could apply. As he pushed in the last block, another block slid outwards and fell to the ground, revealing a small compartment. Inside was a highly lacquered wooden box set on small blocks. Clark reached inside, removed the box, and opened it. Lois looked eagerly over his arm.

There were two items inside: a letter sheet, and several large folded papers.

“They’re blank!” said Lois, frustrated.

“No, they’re not,” said Clark. “I can see the writing. He must have wanted to make sure no one else could read it.” He read the letter aloud:

To my friend, Superman:

If you are reading this letter, a situation has arisen where you have urgent need of my assistance, yet I have not contacted you as I normally would. To this end, I have included instructions to empower you to reach me.

While I have endeavoured to keep the secret of time travel from you, this springs merely from my cautious nature and not from any distrust of your motives. Therefore, you will find the plans for my time machine accompanying this letter.

There remains the matter of a destination, and this requires some subtlety due to the intricacies of temporal mechanics. So as to avoid any paradoxes, I have placed these items during the construction of my new home, Spade House. This has allowed me to select four dates in my own future when I may plan to be at home to receive you. Dates in my past would not suit, for I recall no such meeting.

Similarly, it is by no means assured that the first time you use these instructions will be the last. Therefore, please select one of the four dates below that is not yet struck out, strike it out, and make that your destination. Please be so kind as to replace the items in the building’s foundation.

“Why does he always manage to make my head hurt?” asked Lois.

The letter continued, Please plan to arrive at eleven o’clock in the evening. Any children should be asleep; we have no servants, and the darkness will cover your anachronistic clothing. My wife is aware of my travels and will aid us. Knock three times on the kitchen door precisely at eleven.

Your faithful servant,

Herbert George Wells

Below that was a series of four dates between 1902 and 1908, roughly two years apart, which Clark read off. None were crossed out.

“The last one,” said Lois immediately.

“The last one?”

“He’ll have the most experience.”

“Lois…” said Clark, “The sequences of our lives are already jumbled. We first met him when he was from 1899, then when he was from 1916, then 1899, then 1916 again. We’re about to meet him in between those two dates. This is clearly the first time we’re doing this, so if we do this out of order, it’s going to be that much harder to keep track of.”

“But Clark!”

“Who was just complaining about getting a headache from all this?”

Lois opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She tapped her foot a few times, then sighed. “The first one?”

“The first one.”

• • •


The Jordans stared at her, floating a couple of inches above the front walk, for nearly a minute before Kara said, “Umm… maybe we should go inside?” She blushed. “I don’t want anyone else to see me.”

They moved aside wordlessly and Kara floated over the threshold, finally touching down on the carpet of the living room. Emily closed the front door. Neither she nor Caitlin made a move other than that.

Kara couldn’t bear the silence, nor the stares. “I’m really sorry… are… are you mad at me?”

“Mad?” echoed Emily. “No… I feel like I’m going mad. Can this be real? Are we dreaming?”

Kara was tempted to say yes, this is a dream, and why don’t we all go back to bed? but didn’t think it would really work. “No. No, I can fly. Like… my dad.”

“Have… were you able to do this all along?”

Kara shook her head. “No, just since tonight. I woke up and I was floating.” She shrugged contritely. “I wanted to go try it out. I’m sorry I went outside at night.”

The two sisters looked to the door, then back at her.

Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry… I still can’t believe it… I…”

They were both still staring at her. “Do you want me to do it again?” There was no response, so she floated up and lay on her side in mid-air. Caitlin jumped with a little shriek and clung to Emily. Kara sheepishly returned to the floor.

“Can you… is there anything else… ?”

Kara walked over and with one hand picked up the sofa, holding it at arm’s length. She waited a beat then carefully replaced it, making sure the legs went back in the little holes in the carpet.

She turned back to her foster family, who were still speechless. “I think I can do most everything my dad can. Umm, like…” She blurred into the bedroom and back out again; she was now wearing her robe and fluffy slippers, which she lifted up to show off. “See? And I wasn’t cold outside at all, even way high up.”

She plopped onto the sofa. “It all just… happened, yesterday. I think it was the sun. Once it stopped itching, I think it kinda charged me up. That’s the way it works with my dad. I mean, with Superman. I mean, I didn’t even think my dad was Superman till I woke up here and Dr. Penny told me. And I wasn’t sure till,” she motioned at herself with her hands, “all this happened to me.”

The Jordans were still staring silently at her, and Kara had to avert her gaze. “Please don’t look at me like that,” she pleaded, mortified. “I know I’m an… an alien, but…”

That seemed to break the spell, somewhat. Emily came over to sit next to her; Caitlin followed a few seconds later and sat on the other side.

Kara looked up at Emily, forlorn. “You guys must think I’m a f-freak. Do… do you want me to leave?” Her eyes shone.

“Oh no, sweetie, of course not! Don’t say that!” Emily hesitated just a moment, then put an arm around Kara and kissed the top of her head. “We’re just shocked, is all.” She shook her head slightly. That was an understatement. “You can understand, can’t you?”

Kara nodded, still subdued. “Yeah… I guess. I was really surprised when I found out that here, Amelia Earhart was a real person.”

The Jordan sisters exchanged wide-eyed stares. “Are you saying that back home in,” Emily paused, “M-Metropolis, she isn’t?”

Kara shook her head. “She’s a character in a book, The Girl Who Flew.” A slight pout crept onto her face. “In the book she has a happy ending.”

Emily tried to process this, to reconcile these revelations with her understanding of reality. Her brain refused, threatening to go on strike for more humane working conditions. She decided it could wait till morning. Possibly a morning in the distant future.

“Honey, you’ll have to give us some time to figure this all out, but don’t worry — you can stay with us. In fact,” she said, her voice growing stronger, “I don’t think it would be wise for you to leave here until…” she trailed off, comprehension dawning on her face. “Until your parents come here to get you.”

She looked down at Kara again. “Your parents… they’re really Clark Kent and Lois Lane?”

Kara nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“And your father is also… Superman?”

“They never told me, but I’m pretty sure now that he is.” She decided not to mention that she thought her brother had superpowers too.

Caitlin finally blurted out, “Who are you?”

Emily frowned at her, but Caitlin clarified, “No, I mean if your dad is Superman… are you a character from the comics, too?”

Kara fiddled with her robe. “Kevin Tong showed me some of his comics, and I think I might be, um, Supergirl.”

• • •


Emily sat bleary-eyed, her second morning coffee in front of her, and puzzled over last night’s revelations. After the adrenaline had worn off she’d hustled both girls off to bed, though Kara had protested she wasn’t tired. Emily believed her but told her to try sleeping anyway, something she’d failed at herself. Work was going to be rough today on four hours’ sleep, but she’d worked under worse conditions as an intern.

Every now and then she snuck a furtive glance at the little blonde girl who sat on the other side of the kitchen table, contentedly working on a bowl of oatmeal. The little blonde girl who could fly and lift couches with one petite hand. Who apparently was the daughter of Clark Kent a.k.a. Superman, a person whom no sane individual would think for even a moment could really exist. Welcome to the nuthouse, Emily! Here’s your straitjacket.

Assuming she wasn’t having a psychotic break, there was no escaping the Holmesian conclusion: however improbable it seemed, a fictional character had come to life and was now sitting at her kitchen table wearing turquoise pajamas. It also seemed likely that said child was telling the truth about her family and friends: they, too, existed… somehow.

But Kara was not a fictional character, however she defied the laws of physics. She was a person, a real girl, flesh and blood. She cried, laughed, moped, hugged, played, read, whined, got excited or shy, just like other kids her age. She wasn’t some kind of comic book golem, a two-dimensional sketch brought to life but not truly alive. She was a person. She was just a person who happened to mirror a comic book character.

Emily imagined that her parents would be the same: real people who happened to be named Lois Lane and Clark Kent, who worked for a newspaper that happened to be named the Daily Planet, and one of whom happened to fly around in tights. She wondered if the Daily Planet was suffering the way all newspapers seemed to be in the Internet age, and whether Mr. Kent liked pepperoni on his pizza.

In mirror fashion Amelia Earhart, someone Emily knew was real and had seen newsreel footage of, was a fictional character to Kara. She’d questioned Kara further and discovered she was very familiar with (the fictional) Harry Potter, written by (the real) J. K. Rowling; she’d read the same books and even seen the same movies with the same actors as Emily and Caitlin. Other fictional and real people were common to both of them.

Emily didn’t understand how any of this could be possible. She also suspected she would never understand; she couldn’t imagine what form an explanation could take.

It didn’t really matter. Any explanation wouldn’t change the fact that she had a real foster daughter to care for, or that watching over her had suddenly become a deadly serious affair.

She noted the time; revelations aside, mundane life had to go on. She looked over at Kara, who was staring, fascinated, into her empty bowl. “Kara, we’re going to be late. You need to get moving.”

Kara looked up at the clock, startled, then blurred into the bedroom. She emerged two seconds later fully dressed and with her backpack. Emily found herself far less surprised than she would have expected.

She couldn’t deny what she was seeing with her own eyes. It still felt unreal, but she was starting to get used to it. Caitlin, who had been sitting on the sofa reviewing for a test, stared briefly, then shrugged and went back to packing her books.

The human mind can adapt to almost anything, Emily reminded herself. “Come on, you two, let’s go.”

She paused at the front door. “Kara, honey, remember how we told you to keep things to yourself?” Kara nodded. “I think that especially applies to what we learned last night. If some people found out you could do these things…” Emily felt a chill as ghastly scenarios started playing out in her mind. “If they found out, some really bad things could happen. I don’t want you telling anybody… not your friends, not even Dr. Penny or Detective Spalding, at least not till I’ve had a chance to think about it.”

“I won’t,” Kara promised.

• • •


Kara found that she liked the morning walk with her foster family. Her parents usually drove to work, dropping Laura on the way, despite Dad’s periodic suggestions that they really ought to take MARTA instead. Mom was adamant that wouldn’t happen until Laura was older.

Kara herself had only started walking to school for sixth grade. Jordy walked too, but Larson Middle School and Hamilton High were in nearly opposite directions, so he couldn’t walk with her. She wished he could; it was nice to walk with someone.

Again she enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her skin. Every so often she’d close her eyes and smile. Caitlin watched her, half amused and half awed.

Feeling so full of energy was great, and since she wasn’t freaking out like the day before she felt cheery. School seemed easier.

Her friends noticed. “Feeling better?” asked Bailey in homeroom. Kara nodded and smiled.

At lunch, Kevin asked her what she thought of the movie. Kara allowed that it had been “interesting,” and that Richard seemed like a nice guy, but she hoped Lois and Clark got together again since they were Jason’s parents. At least, that’s what she said.

She wondered aloud where Jason had come from, and Kevin was voluble in filling in the back story from the earlier movies and the comics.

She learned about the destruction of Krypton, and that Kal-El’s mother was Lara Lor-Van, and how she and Jor-El had sent baby Kal-El to Earth in a spaceship, to be found by the Kents in Smallville. Kara realized her siblings were named for her father’s birth parents, and guessed the rest of the story might be right, too. She still didn’t understand how she fit in.

She couldn’t resist. “Kevin, this Supergirl you showed me — do you know what her parents’ names were? On Krypton, that is?”

“Well, in the stories where she’s Superman’s cousin, her parents are Zor-El and Alura In-Ze. Zor-El is Jor-El’s brother.”

Kara had hoped the names would evoke something in her, but they were just meaningless sounds. She looked down, disappointed. “Um, thanks.”

“Why’d you want to know?”

“I’m just curious, is all.”

“It’s kind of funny if you think about it,” added Bailey. “I mean, you have a name like Kara Kent, but you seem to know less about Superman and Supergirl than most people.” She noticed Kara’s embarrassed blush and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, honest.”

“It’s OK,” said Kara, frowning. “I guess I have been kind of in the dark.”

• • •