the cafeteria was a blaring cacophony of noise, a swirling blend of laughter, conversation, and the occasional clatter of plastic trays against tables. iris hesitated at the entrance, clutching the edges of her lunch tray like a lifeline. 

the sheer energy of the place was more than overwhelming — hundreds of students packed into a single room, their voices echoing off the walls, overlapping in an endless hum. the scent of greasy pizza, undercooked vegetables, and something vaguely resembling meatloaf wafted through the air, mixing with cheap perfume, sweaty gym clothes, and the unmistakable scent of old floor wax.

but it wasn't just the living making the strident noise.

whispers of spirits brushed against her ears, like ghostly echoes trapped between the walls of the school. some were barely noticeable — a stray voice here, a soft chuckle there — but others were louder, more insistent. shadows flickered at the edges of her vision, figures that weren't really there, caught in moments long since passed. a murmur curled around her mind, fragmented words pressing against her thoughts. broken souls loved to stake their claim on the land of the living.

"he doesn't know, he doesn't see—"

"it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—"

"i was here, i was here, i was—"

iris squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second, drawing in a slow, patient breath. she forced herself to tune them out, to shove them into the background where they belonged. 

if she let herself react — if she so much as flinched — it was over. people would notice. people would stare. and then the questions would start.

just be normal. just for today.

she exhaled sharply and opened her eyes, deliberately scanning the room. most of the students were too absorbed in their own petty arguments and conversations to pay her any attention, but to her, it felt like every single pair of eyes was waiting for her to do something strange, something that would mark her as different. she tugged her long sleeves down over her fingers, the familiar action grounding her.

then, finally, she spotted a familiar face.

chloe's blonde head bounced as she wildly gestured with her hands while talking to two boys at a nearby table. her energy was palpable even from across the room, her hands moving in rapid succession as she spoke. as if sensing iris's gaze, chloe turned, her bright eyes lighting up as she excitedly waved her over.

iris hesitated for half a second. every instinct screamed at her to turn around, to find an empty table in the back where she could eat in peace. where she wouldn't have to pretend.

but there was no turning back now.

she forced her feet to move, weaving through the crowded tables until she reached them. one foot in front of the other, her head aching more and more with every step taken. chloe scooted over, making space, while the shorter of the two boys, a broad kid with an easygoing smile, raised an eyebrow.

"guys, this is iris whitlock," chloe announced, her tone exaggeratedly grand, as if she were introducing a celebrity. "new to smallville, already way cooler than all of us at this table combined."

iris gave a small, meek nod, trying not to shrink under their attention. the other boy, the one she had run into in the office earlier — the kent boy — looked up from his lunch, his piercing green eyes landing on her again. 

there was something about the way he looked at her, not quite in the way most people did. he didn't seem curious in the usual way — there was no judgment, no searching for what made her different. just a quiet, steady presence, like he actually saw her without trying to figure her out. he sported a perceptive stare that sent a nervous shiver down her spine.

"hey, we met earlier," the kent boy said, offering a small smile. "clark kent, nice to see you again."

"yeah," iris replied, shifting her weight from foot to foot before finally sitting down. "nice to see you, too."

the broad-shouldered boy extended a hand, his grin widening. "pete ross. i accept all newcomers to our humble table of misfits with a warm welcome." he leaned in conspiratorially. "i figure chloe's already talked your ear off."

"she's not that bad," iris admitted, glancing at chloe, who waggled her eyebrows in mock offense. the brunette girl giggled softly, the first real laugh she had let out in a while, offering a quick, "yet."

pete snorted, and clark chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. something about the easy camaraderie at the table made iris's tension loosen just a fraction. her shoulders eased, the stress weighing down on her lifting ever-so-slightly.

"so," chloe leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "what do you think of smallville so far?"

iris forced a small smile, stirring her untouched food with her fork. "it's... quieter than the last place i lived."

lie.

it was the loudest place she had ever been. the school itself buzzed with pent-up energy — conversations layered on top of one another, lockers slamming, footsteps echoing down the halls. 

but beyond that, it was filled with ghosts. not just literal ghosts, though those were bad enough. there were memories here, echoes of people who had left their mark long before she arrived. some were faded, mere wisps of what once was, but others were sharp, raw, as if the past was still alive in the present. and their irritating voices would not go away.

she had spent the entire morning pressing her nails into the curve of her palm to keep from reacting when a shadowy figure flickered at the edge of her vision. it had been relentless — an old teacher who had passed away in the library, a girl in the bathroom mirror whose tear-stricken never seemed to turn away.

it took everything in her not to show it. not to let it slip.

chloe tilted her head, studying her. "quieter? in a town full of farm equipment, football fanatics, and weird-event-obsessed journalists like myself?"

before iris could respond, pete suddenly interrupted, following clark's line of vision. he smirked and elbowed him. "speaking of distractions, how's the lana lang daily staring contest going?"

clark immediately looked flustered. "i wasn't staring."

"oh, please." chloe rolled her eyes and turned to iris. "our dear clark here has been hopelessly in love with lana lang since, like, birth. it's honestly kind of tragic."

"chloe," clark groaned, looking mortified.

pete laughed. "no, she's right. it's like watching a puppy chase after a car he'll never catch."

iris raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "lana lang?"

"cheerleader, girl-next-door, basically smallville's sweetheart," chloe explained. "and, unfortunately, very taken."

"not that it stops clark from gazing longingly at her from a distance," pete added.

"i do not gaze longingly," clark muttered, focusing very hard on his food.

iris laughed again, the tension fully leaving her body at the interaction. things were getting better, already. "yeah, lana, the one dating my brother. sorry, clark."

chloe waved off iris's words, a mischievous glint in her eye. "it is so unlike me to say this, but enough teasing clark. he deals with our harassment on a daily. i want to know more about you, and you didn't answer my question," she looked pointedly at the brunette. "how's this town so much quieter?"

iris shrugged, keeping her grip on her fork tight. "i mean, i haven't lived in one place long enough to get used to it."

clark's eyes softened, something knowing flashing across his face. "you move around a lot?"

she nodded, not trusting herself to elaborate. she had no intention of spilling her life story to a group of kids she had just met.

chloe, ever perceptive, switched the subject. "well, if you need a tour guide, i know every inch of this town." she beamed happily, before getting excited, "...and if you're looking for something to do, i run the school newspaper, the torch." she perked up. "actually, you should stop by after school. maybe check it out."

iris hesitated. the idea of a distraction was tempting — anything to keep her mind off the spirits pressing and buzzing in at every corner.

"maybe," she said noncommittally.

"you totally should," pete added. "chloe practically lives in that office. it's the closest thing smallville has to a superhero lair."

clark choked on a sip of water, shooting him a look. "you're exaggerating."

pete smirked. "am i?"

iris let herself laugh, a small, reluctant chuckle escaping before she could stop it. checking out the torch wouldn't be horrible.

————— 

the last bell rang, signaling the long-awaited end of the school day, and the hallways flooded with students eager to escape. lockers slammed shut, voices rose over one another in hurried goodbyes and weekend plans, and the occasional sneaker irritatingly squeaked against the tile floor.

iris lingered near her own locker, twisting the dial absentmindedly, debating whether she should follow through on her half-hearted agreement to check out the torch. a part of her wanted to just head home — if she could even call it that.

the fordman house had once felt like home.

she could still remember how warm mrs. fordman's hugs used to be, how she would tuck iris's hair behind her ear and call her sweetheart like she truly meant it. how whitney had once been her greatest protector instead of her biggest tormentor, his teasing playful rather than cruel. 

back then, they had made her feel like she belonged.

that was before she started slipping up. before she asked the wrong questions, spoke to people no one else could see, woke up screaming from nightmares that weren't just a false perception of reality. before the warmth drained from their eyes, replaced by uncertainty, then fear, then something worse — disdain.

now, mrs. fordman still smiled at her, but it was tight, rehearsed. she called her my dear, but it sounded more like a placeholder than an endearment. she used to run her fingers through iris's hair absentmindedly, but now she barely touched her at all.

mrs. fordman still set a plate for her at dinner, but the conversation never included her. it was like she had become one of the ghosts, haunting a house where she was no longer welcome.

and then there was whitney.

whitney didn't bother pretending.

"i thought i told you to stay out of my way."

his voice cut through her thoughts, low but sharp, like he had been waiting for the right moment to strike. iris sighed and shut her locker with a little more force than necessary, rattling whatever contents she left inside it.

"i'm not in your way," she muttered, adjusting her bag strap over her shoulder. "you came to me, dumbass." her eyes widened, her hand threatening to fly up and cover her mouth at her choice of words. did iris really just say that? to whitney, of all people?

whitney huffed a humorless laugh. "that's cute. you think you're clever."

iris finally turned to face him. he stood with his arms crossed, football jersey slightly wrinkled from practice, his expression hovering somewhere between irritation and exhaustion. once, she would have been able to read the emotion behind his eyes, but now they were just cold.

"i don't care what my mom says," he continued. "you don't belong with us. you're not family."

iris clenched her jaw. "trust me, i know."

whitney scoffed. "do you? because you still keep trying. you sit at our dinner table like we actually want you there. you act like this town is your fresh start, like you can just slide into our lives and pretend everything's fine." his voice dropped lower, his words slow and deliberate. "you're not one of us, iris. you never will be."

the words hit like a slap, and her eyes threatened to water, but she refused to flinch.

she thought of mrs. fordman's strained smiles, the way she set down iris's plate with mechanical precision but never looked her in the eye. the way she would tell iris she could always talk to her about anything — but then bristle whenever she did. she thought of the forced conversations, the hollow reassurances, the way she was never quite included but never explicitly pushed out. not by words, at least. just by everything else.

and she thought of how she had tried — really tried — in the beginning. how she used to ask mrs. fordman if she needed help with dinner, only to be waved off with a polite but dismissive, "i've got it, dear." how she once asked about the store, about the family business, trying to take an interest, only for mrs. fordman to nod absentmindedly before changing the subject. 

how she once asked whitney if he wanted to watch a movie like they used to, and he had barely looked up from his game before muttering, "not in the mood."

how no one had ever asked her anything about herself.

she was an obligation. a duty. a reminder of something they had once loved but no longer understood.

iris swallowed hard, gripping the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. "believe me," she said quietly. "if i had anywhere else to go, i wouldn't be here."

whitney didn't respond right away. he just watched her for a moment, something flickering across his face — pity, maybe, or something else she couldn't name. but it was gone before she could dwell on it.

without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the dissipating crowd of students that still partially filled the hallway.

iris stood there, heart hammering in her chest, fighting the familiar feeling of being small.

it wasn't new.

she was always the outsider. the unwanted guest in someone else's home, in someone else's life.

pushing down the lump in her throat, she turned on her heel and strode down the hall. she wasn't going back to the fordmans' yet, she had a newspaper office to check out.

the hallways were almost entirely empty now, most students having already fled to their weekend plans. iris's footsteps echoed against the tile floor as she made her way toward the newspaper office, each step feeling heavier than the last. her conversation with whitney still rang in her ears, making her chest tighter with every passing moment.

she passed by the shiny trophy cases, their glass surfaces reflecting her distorted image. state championships, academic awards, decades of achievements that belonged to others. that belonged to real students of this school. her reflection looked small among them, almost ghostlike.

the familiar whispers started up again as she rounded the corner — not from any living person, but from the shadows that always seemed to follow her. she quickened her pace, trying to ignore them. this was exactly why she needed to check out the torch, wasn't it? to prove she wasn't crazy. to show that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason she saw things others didn't.

maybe her story would be told, and maybe people would finally believe her.

the newspaper office was in the oldest part of the school building, down a corridor that smelled of dust and aging paper. most students avoided this wing after hours, claiming it was creepy. iris almost laughed at that — if they only knew what real creepiness was.

as she approached the door, her hand hesitated over the handle. through the frosted glass, she could see a faint light still on inside. was chloe actually there? part of her hoped not. she'd had enough of people for one day. 

but another part of her, the part that was tired of being alone, almost wished for company — even if it was just another student who would look through her like everyone else did.

she took a deep breath, steeling herself. after her confrontation with whitney, what was the worst that could happen in there? at least ghosts were honest about not wanting her around.

iris pushed the door open quietly, peeking inside. the office was dimly lit by a desk lamp and the glow of a computer screen, casting long shadows across the walls. newspaper clippings and photographs covered nearly every inch of available space, creating a chaotic collage of smallville's history.

chloe sat at her desk, completely absorbed in whatever was on her computer screen. her fingers flew across the keyboard with practiced precision, and she didn't even look up when iris entered.

"if you're here about the basketball coverage, paul, i already told you—" chloe started, then glanced up. her expression immediately shifted from annoyance to surprise, then delight. "iris! you actually came!"

iris managed a small smile, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "yeah, i... thought i'd check it out." she waved a hand around, eyes darting from article to article plastered upon the walls.

chloe beamed, gesturing enthusiastically for her to come in. "welcome to my humble kingdom of journalistic excellence and weird happenings." she spun in her chair, arms spread wide. "what do you think?"

taking a few tentative steps inside, iris let her eyes wander over the room. amid the typical school newspaper fare — sports victories, academic achievements, club announcements — there were other, stranger articles. headlines about mysterious occurrences, unexplained phenomena, and what appeared to be a dedicated section labeled wall of weird.

"it's... intense," iris said, drawn to the wall of weird despite herself. she moved closer, studying the collection of articles and photos. each one seemed to tell a story of something inexplicable, something that didn't quite fit into the normal world. something like her.

"that's my pride and joy," chloe said, coming to stand beside her, hands resting proudly on either one of her hips. "every strange occurrence, every unexplained event that's happened in smallville since the meteor shower. some people think i'm crazy for keeping track, but..." she shrugged. "i believe there's always more to the story than what meets the eye."

iris's heart skipped a beat. "and people... they tell you about these things? they trust you with their stories?"

chloe's expression softened, something knowing flickering in her eyes. "they do. sometimes people just need someone to listen without judgment. someone who won't immediately dismiss what they've seen or experienced." she paused, studying iris carefully. "you know what i mean?"

iris felt her throat tighten. she did know. she knew all too well.

she swallowed hard, her fingers twitching slightly as she traced the edge of an old newspaper clipping.

"yeah," she said quietly, her voice almost lost beneath the hum of the computer. "i know exactly what you mean."

chloe tilted her head, studying her with a mixture of curiosity and something else — something gentler. "you ever see anything weird where you've been? i mean, besides the fact that smallville is basically the twilight zone disguised as a farming town?"

iris hesitated, her mind flickering to the shadows in the school hallways, the whispers in the cafeteria, the cold touch of something that shouldn't be there brushing against her skin in the dead of night. she had seen plenty of weird things. more than anyone would ever believe.

but she wasn't about to say that. not yet.

she forced a half-smile. "nothing super out there," she lied.

chloe gave her a knowing look but didn't push. instead, she clapped her hands together. "well, if you ever do, i'm