For three years, the Kents had never been able to hire a baby sitter. Every time they tried to work up the nerve to let even one person in on their secret, just to give them an evening away, they balked at the last minute. It wasn't worth risking Clark's life. They couldn't go months or years without interaction with any other adults, so they sometimes had guests over after Clark went to bed, but they didn't allow Clark to interact with anyone for longer than a few minutes. The risk was too great.

But they'd recently celebrated his fifth "birthday." In a couple of months, he was going to have to go to school. He needed to meet kids his own age—keeping him hidden away from everyone in the name of giving him a "normal life" made no sense at all.

Martha called the Abigail Ross and set a time for a playdate on Saturday afternoon, since their son Pete was around Clark's age. Jonathan and Martha promised each other they wouldn't cancel the playdate, no matter how nervous they became.

That Saturday, Jonathan came into the kitchen after the early morning chores to find Clark lifting a table over his head. "Daddy, look!" He threw the table across the room, then ran over to catch it before it could land. "Tadaa!"

Martha smiled and said, "He's getting to be so strong."

Jonathan was less impressed. "Have you talked to him about throwing things in the house?"

"I was going to, but his aim is perfect, sweetie. He never drops or breaks anything."

"That's not the point."

She winced. "I know, but I already have to tell him to be careful about so many things. It's just nice for him to be able to enjoy his abilities, I don't want him to grow up being afraid of himself."

Giggling interrupted their discussion. Jonathan glanced down to find Clark with a paperclip in his hand. He'd stuck it into the outlet, and he was laughing.

So that settled that question. He was invulnerable to electricity. Jonathan let out a sigh of relief, but his heart started to pound again when he realized that it was still dangerous, in a completely different way. There would be no explanation for why he could survive sticking his finger in an outlet, if anyone happened to see him do it. And if he touched anyone else while he touched the outlets, they could be electrocuted. Besides, he had told Clark not to touch them.

Jonathan knelt down beside the boy, careful not to touch him. "Drop it."

Clark looked up at Jonathan, letting go of the paper clip. "Sorry! Sorry!"

Jonathan picked up his son and brought him over to the couch, sitting him on his lap. It had been years since they'd had to discuss this; he wasn't even sure if Clark remembered. "What does Daddy say about touching outlets?"

"No touching it?" Clark said softly.

"What were you just doing?"

"Touching it." He hung his head.

"What's going to happen if you do it again?"

His little brow furrowed. "Be in big trouble?"

"That's right." Sometimes, he found being less specific was better. "I have to talk to you about something. You're going to meet a friend today."

"Friend?"

"Yeah. Pete. He's a boy your age who lives nearby. You're going to play with him today."

"Yay!" He clapped his hands. Jonathan figured he didn't have any way of understanding the concept of meeting a child his age, but he liked playing.

"So . . ." He tried to think of how to phrase this. He didn't want Clark to fear his powers, and he didn't want him to think he was in danger, but he also needed to make sure Clark wouldn't spill his secrets to anyone. "You know how you can do things Mommy and Daddy can't do?"

"Climb on the fridge?"

"No, like lifting tables and throwing them across the room and catching them."

"Bein' really fast?"

"Yes. And strong."

"I like bein' strong."

"I like you being strong, too." Jonathan tousled his son's hair. "But you can't tell your new friend about your strength and speed. It's a secret."

"Secret?"

"Yeah. Like that necklace Daddy bought Mommy, but we couldn't tell her about it until Christmas."

"We can tell Pete I'm strong on Christmas?"

"No. We can't tell him at all. You can't tell anyone except Mommy and Daddy."

"Why not?"

"Because . . . it's a secret."

"Why?"

"Because that's how it is." He had no idea how else to explain it to a five-year-old without scaring him. "Do you understand?"

Clark just blinked.

Jonathan sighed. "You're going to be in big trouble if you tell anyone. Do you understand now?"

Clark's lower lip trembled, and he nodded.

Jonathan pulled Clark into a hug, then set him down on the floor.

For the first few minutes of the visit, Jonathan could almost convince himself things were going to be fine.

Clark was clearly thrilled to be able to play with another child his age. They ran around the living room shrieking with laughter. Jonathan didn't even worry when they started to rough house—he knew how careful Clark was, and even if he won every wrestling match, Pete would probably be used to that, as the youngest of five kids.

Pete suggested a race around the living room, and Clark was about to join in, when Jonathan cut them off. "No running in the house," he said.

"Can we go outside, Mr. Kent?" Pete asked.

"Not right now," Jonathan said, but he wasn't sure what he'd tell them later.

"Okayyyy." Pete kicked a ball lightly, and it rolled under the couch. He toddled over to reach under the couch, trying to get it out, but it was too far back. "Awww."

"I can get it!" Clark sped over to the couch, and before Jonathan could say anything, he started to lift it.

"Clark!"

Clark dropped the couch. He'd only lifted it a couple of inches, and Pete had been looking away, so the damage was narrowly avoided.

Jonathan's heart raced. It had been a close call. Too close, and punishing Clark wouldn't be enough in the long run; Clark would eventually just try to avoid being caught by his parents. And Jonathan couldn't be watching every minute of every day. He couldn't follow Clark to kindergarten.

He had to do what was necessary to keep his son safe. Clark had to understand the truth.

"Come talk to me in your room."

"Sorry!"

"Let's go."

He picked up Clark, walked him up to his bedroom, and shut the door behind himself, then set him down in the center of the room and knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders tightly. "What were you about to do in there?"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

"Didn't I tell you you would be in big trouble if you showed anyone your secret?"

"Dooon't!" He put his hands behind his back. "Sorryyy!"

Jonathan was startled, again, at how much his child feared a punishment he couldn't feel. "You're not going to be in trouble with me, Clark, you're going to be in trouble with the bad scientists."

"B-bad scientiss?"

Jonathan swallowed hard. He couldn't believe he was about to tell his five-year-old child all of this. This kid had spent a year of his life having nightmares every other day. But better for him to have nightmares in sleep than in real life. "Yes. Some scientists study people who are different. If anyone finds out your secret, the bad scientists will find out, and they'll study you."

"Why study?"

"To find out why you're different." He almost left it at that, but he had to make sure Clark would never forget this. Once he knew what to fear, a normal life would be out of the question for him, but he could still be safe. Jonathan tightened his grip on Clark's shoulders. "They'll poke you with needles and inject you with chemicals and take your blood, and they'll cut you open with knives and put tubes into you, and make you drink poison."

"Nooo." Tears streamed down Clark's face.

"They'll make you run through mazes, and they'll shock you and hurt you. They'll lock you up in a cage in the dark, and they'll never let you play or go outside or meet any new friends, and you'll never see Mommy and Daddy again."

Clark burst into hysterical crying, burying his face in his hands.

Jonathan was traumatizing his son. He knew he was doing it, but he couldn't stop it. This had to be done. His eyes stung. "Do you want that to happen? Do you want to get taken away and cut open and never see us again?"

"Nooooo!" Clark threw himself forward and pressed himself into Jonathan's shirt. "Don't let them take me, Daddy!"

Jonathan placed a hand on the boy's head, and he cleared his throat. "I won't be able to stop them. If anyone finds out about your strength and speed, they'll take you away from me."

"I won't show anyone! I promise!"

Jonathan gathered his little boy into his arms and held him to his chest as tight as he could, much tighter than he could have held Martha without hurting her. His heart broke for the cruel reality that was the world to which this alien boy had been exiled, a world that wouldn't hesitate to hurt and destroy him because he was different. The boy shook with sobs against his father.

Jonathan pressed his face into the side of his son's head. "I love you, little guy." His voice cracked.

"Love you Daddy," Clark choked through his sobs. "Don't let them take me. Please."

"I won't let them. I love you so, so much . . ." Jonathan's own tears dripped into the child's soft hair.

When Clark's crying had reduced to sniffles, Jonathan loosened his grip, then let go of his son, brushing his son's tears away before wiping what remained of his own.

"Okay, son. Ready to play with Pete again?"

Clark nodded.

"You're going to go down there and tell him you said a bad word, and I yelled at you until you cried."

"Why?"

"Because if you tell him the truth about why I brought you up here, he'll find out your secret, then the bad scientists will find out."

Clark's eyes widened. For a moment, Jonathan thought he was going to start crying again, but he only nodded.

"Okay, little guy." Jonathan kissed his son's forehead, then stood, patting his back. "Be careful. But go have fun."

Clark smiled, and ran out of his room.

Jonathan let out his breath. For the first time since he'd found out about Clark's powers, the thought of sending his child to kindergarten didn't give him a heart attack. It was an unfair trade—easing his own fears by passing them along to his five-year-old son. But at least this way, he'd be safe.