Girls Don't Make Passes

By Mary Potts aka Queen of the Capes

Rated: G

Submitted: August, 2005

Summary: "Lana Lang? Shallow?! Naaah!" A response to the "Glasses" challenge on the message boards.

Note: This story was written in response to the 'Glasses' challenge ( bin/boards/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=3;t=000452) on the Fanfic messageboards (


At Smallville High, a pretty, young blonde walked down the hall with a handsome, dark haired boy in tow. They came to a halt in front of her locker, and the blonde pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

"Okay, Clarkie-poo, we're here." She smiled sweetly at him and batted her eyes as he lowered the pile of books he'd been carrying, in order to have his hands free to work the lock.

"I don't know why you changed your locker for this one," he said as he opened the door wide and reached for the books again. "It's too far away from all of your classes to be convenient…"

She rolled her eyes slightly at his failure to grasp such an obvious concept. "Clarkie-poo, this one's bigger! It has the space I need for my books, my cheer-leading stuff, my swim stuff, my makeup and hair stuff, and some other stuff!"

"Ah." Clark slid the books neatly into place and had to admit that it was indeed roomier. "So are we still on for the movie tonight, Lana?"

"Of course, Clarkie-poo!" The saccharine smile returned, and she reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Listen, I gotta run or I'll be late for practice. See you later!"

Clark waved at his sweetheart's hastily retreating back. "Later, Alligator!"

Lana ran down the hall, briefly turning to call over her shoulder, "Clark, no one says that anymore!"

Clark leaned back against the locker and let out a sigh. The books weren't that heavy—not to him anyway; but Lana had been running him all over the place lately. She could be a little bit of a handful at times, but so help him, he kind of liked it! A smile slowly spread onto his face.


Clark turned sharply towards the voice that had so unexpectedly intruded upon his thoughts, and saw a curly-haired young boy with thick glasses, watching him from across the hall.

Clark grinned. "Hey, Marvin!"

Marvin wrapped his arms tighter around his textbook and stared down at an imaginary piece of dirt on the floor, kicking it with the toe of his shoe. "Hey."

"What's the matter, buddy? Jealous of me and Lana?" Clark teased.

Marvin looked up sharply and his eyes suddenly narrowed. "Are you kidding? You can have her! There's no way I'd go with a girl that shallow, even if I thought I stood a chance with her!"

The smile and teasing glint in Clark's eyes vanished at this accusation on his girlfriend. "Shallow? Lana?"

"If the scrunchie fits," Marvin said as he reached up and pushed his glasses up with one finger.

Clark shook his head at his friend. "Marvin, Lana may be a bit discriminating, but she's not shallow! She likes me for who I am."

Marvin snorted hard, almost causing himself to drop the textbook he was carrying.

Clark frowned. "It's true!" He was starting to consider just leaving. The bell would be ringing in about fifteen minutes anyway.

The boy slowly lifted his head to meet Clark's gaze, and his smile was almost creepy. "You really think that? Clark, look at yourself! You're Mister Popular. You're the jock. You're the good-looking guy with great muscles and perfect teeth." He crushed the textbook to his stomach and spat those last words out as if they made him want to throw up. "If you stopped being any one of those things, Lana would drop you like a rock." He kept his gaze on Clark steady and unflinching as he spoke.

Clark straightened so that his back was no longer in contact with the large, beige locker. "You're wrong," he said simply. "Lana isn't like that."

"Oh really?" Marvin's expression became cynical. "You honestly believe she'd still love you if you wore braces, or glasses."

"Yes." Clark nodded.

Marvin snorted and walked away. "I dare you to try it."


He didn't believe it.

He honestly didn't believe it for a moment.

Clark stared at the horn-rimmed glasses in his hands and thought of the words of their former owner.

It was one month ago, exactly. A week after that, Marvin had been in an accident. The news had spread quickly through the small town. Clark had gone over to help his aunt pack up her nephew's things. That's when he saw them. They were a pair he'd never liked very much, Marvin's aunt had explained, and so he'd hardly ever worn them. Since Clark was one of Marvin's few friends, his aunt had graciously consented to his request to keep them, as a keep-sake.

Clark turned the glasses over in his hands as he lay on the bed, then he got up and crossed over to the mirror to try them on again. The lenses were thick enough to block his developing x- ray eyes. The frames were thick and bulky.

<Girls don't make passes at guys who wear glasses.>

The rhyme sounded in his head, and he took them off again. He'd do it. He'd do it to show their former owner, once and for all, that outward appearances don't matter. That women are not that shallow. That anyone, regardless of what they look like or what weaknesses they have, can find someone who loves them for who they are inside.

Just like Lana loved him.

He'd do it. He'd wear them to school, and tell Lana that he'd just gotten glasses. She'd take it in stride, of course, and maybe even say something about how they made him look cute, or intellectual. Then, he'd take them off, say that he was just joking around, and they'd have a good laugh. Then he would put them away and never wear them again.

Lana wasn't that shallow.

No woman was that shallow.

No woman told a guy she loved him, just because of what he was like on the outside.

No one did that.

No one.