Smallville High.

You stepped down onto the gravel, the September sun already warm on your neck. The building was a low, sprawling thing of red brick, surrounded by flat fields and a few stubborn trees. It was quiet. A world away from the constant hum of Metropolis.

A few other students milled around the entrance, chatting in easy clusters. You didn’t recognize a single face. You tightened your grip on the strap of your backpack—the one your mom bought you last year.

The front doors of the school swung open with a metallic groan. Time to go in.