Chapter Forty-Six: You Will Catch Me, Won't You?

Scattered rubble lay all around, and the dust kicked up by the collapsing windmill drifted outward.

"Homelander!"

Seeing Homelander buried beneath the fallen windmill, Clark stood frozen for two full seconds before finally snapping back to reality.

He sprinted toward the collapsed windmill at top speed, waved away the dust and smoke, vaulted onto the ruins, tossed his backpack aside, and began clearing away the stones with his bare hands.

"Hang in there, Homelander! I'm going to dig you out right now!"

He shouted anxiously toward the buried boy while frantically flinging rocks aside.

"Huff! Puff!"

After a flurry of digging, Clark finally uncovered Homelander.

Covered in dust from head to toe with his clothes utterly tattered, Homelander's mouth was slightly open, his expression frozen stiff and motionless.

"Homelander... are you okay?" Clark asked worriedly, staring at his friend's expression.

"I..."

Homelander wiped the grime from his face and asked Clark in confusion, "Did it look like I just flew for a second?"

He was still feeling quite dazed.

"It... it looked like it." Clark let out a sigh of relief upon hearing him speak.

Since he could still talk, he probably hadn't broken anything.

"I... I just felt like I was running faster and faster, and then I kind of dizzily floated up into the air. But when I looked down, I got scared and fell right back."

Homelander patted his chest in lingering fear as he spoke.

Having a bit of a fear of heights, he shuddered just thinking back on it.

Clark looked at his ability with a touch of envy. "Flying like a bird... I wish I had a power like that."

"But... I broke the windmill again."

Homelander had no desire to discuss the novelty of flight with Clark right now.

Gazing at the ruined windmill before him, his little face scrunched up into a tight ball.

He had practically demolished his house the day before, and now he had destroyed the only windmill on the farm. If his dad found out, he would definitely be furious.

Homelander cast a pleading look at Clark. "Clark, you'll keep this a secret for me, right?"

"Of course."

Clark nodded heavily and said in a solemn tone, "I won't tell a soul."

***

Nighttime.

Patrick Farm.

Because of Clark's snitching, Peter soon learned that Homelander had crashed into and destroyed the windmill.

"Dad, I'm sorry."

Silently cursing Clark as a traitor in his heart, Homelander raised his head with a sense of nervous trepidation. "I... I didn't mean to."

"Of course Dad knows you didn't mean to."

To Homelander's surprise, Peter didn't fly into a rage.

"Dad wouldn't punish you for an honest mistake."

Peter proclaimed himself to be a reasonable and good father.

"John, can you still fly now?"

He was currently very interested in Homelander's flight capabilities.

The wristwatch had endowed him with superhuman physical attributes. His current strength, speed, endurance, and durability far surpassed those of ordinary humans.

However, flight and laser vision were the two things he still lacked.

Now that Homelander had awakened his flight ability, he could use the kid as a free personal aircraft in the future, taking a casual trip into space whenever he was bored to admire the scenery of Earth.

"No, I can't."

Homelander shook his head dejectedly. "I tried to recall the feeling of flying, but it didn't work at all."

"Is that so?"

Peter set down his knife and fork, looking at Homelander. "Perhaps... we should try some special training."

"What kind of special training, Dad?"

"Special training for a fledgling eagle learning to fly."

On the newly repaired roof of the barn, Homelander stood at the edge, shouting nervously down to Peter standing below, "Dad, do I really have to jump off again?"

"Yes, and don't hesitate."

"You'll catch me, won't you?"

"Of course, I'll catch you every single time."

The "fledgling eagle flight training" had been going on for half an hour.

Homelander had jumped off the roof more than twenty times, and every single time he plunged straight down without the slightest hint of taking flight.

The kid was actually having so much fun that Peter began to suspect whether he and Clark had colluded to trick him into playing a game of "catch-my-son."

He had caught the kid bare-handed over twenty times.

Even a superhuman physique couldn't handle this kind of abuse!

"Wait!"

Seeing Homelander ready to jump down yet again, Peter called out to him, "John, when you jump down, you feel scared, don't you?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm a little scared."

"I see. John, when you jump down, you shouldn't be thinking about fear. You should be thinking about anticipation, about a longing for flight."

"I... I can't do it, Dad."

"No, of course you can."

Peter told him, "Remember your favorite game show, Family Feud? The host is Richard Dawson, and almost every time, you managed to guess the most popular answer."

"Once you asked me, 'Dad, why is it that even when the questions are so simple, the competing families can't answer them?' Do you remember what I told you?"

Homelander thought for a moment on the roof. "You said: 'Once you're standing under the bright lights, the questions probably get hard!'"

Peter snapped his fingers. "Exactly. John, you're standing under the bright lights right now, which is why you've forgotten the feeling of flying and are left with only nervousness. But actually, recalling that feeling isn't hard at all, is it?"

Homelander nodded with a half-understanding look. "I think I get it, Dad."

"Good, here we go."

"Thud!"

***

Kent Farm.

The "informant" Clark accidentally sneezed.

The plate on the dining table slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor with a dull crash.

Seeing his mother busy in the kitchen, Clark quickly picked up the pieces.

"Clark?"

"Sorry, Mom, I accidentally dropped a plate."

Jonathan was away on business, so only Clark and Martha were at the farm.

Martha walked out of the kitchen, placed a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the table, and said to Clark, "Go wash your hands and get ready for dinner."

Clark sat down at the table after washing his hands and stuffed a few cookies into his pockets. "I have to save some for my godfather and Homelander."

Seeing how considerate her son was, Martha felt a warm glow of comfort in her heart.

As he munched on a cookie, Clark said to Martha, "Mom, some kids at school said they saw an alien spaceship land near the town."

Hearing the words "alien spaceship," Martha started, and the cookie in her hand almost fell.

She gave a small cough to mask her flustered reaction. "An alien spaceship? Did your classmates say when that happened?"

"No, they just said someone saw a blurry shadow fly across the sky. Some thought it was a spaceship, others thought it was a Chupacabra, a monster, or an alien."

After listening to Clark's account, Martha let out a long breath of relief.

She had thought an actual alien spaceship had arrived.

Since Clark himself had been delivered by a spacecraft, Martha had an allergic reaction to the word "spaceship," terrified that some vessel might come and take her son away.

"Maybe it was just a shooting star."

Martha told Clark, "Clark, Chupacabras and aliens don't exist."

Clark nodded and muttered under his breath, "Well, if I could fly like Homelander, I could go up and catch that spaceship myself."

Martha didn't catch what Clark mumbled. "What did you say, Clark?"

"Nothing."

Clark immediately clamped his mouth shut.

He had promised to keep Homelander's secret.