Page 62 of Saving Little Clark

Chapter 26: Clark

It felt like only minutes had passed when I stirred, surfacing from slumber by slow degrees. Blinking heavy lids, I shifted onto my side. Lifted my head just enough to make out two familiar shapes, curled up like commas on the mattress. Alex, hair sticking up in wild, staticky tufts. Elijah, cheek smushed into the pillow, a damp patch beneath his open mouth.

Grinning to myself, I army crawled my way out of the covers. Rubbing the grit from my eyes, I shuffled towards the door. Time to see what mischief the Daddies had gotten up to while we languished in dreamland. Hopefully there would be fresh cookies involved, if Uncle Lance had anything to say about it.

The man was a baking fiend, forever plying us with an array of mouth-watering treats meticulously tailored to our tastes. Uncle Oliver joked that it was his way of staking a claim, fattening us up so we'd be too round and sluggish to escape his sugary clutches.

My steps quickened as I neared the kitchen, stomach already rumbling in anticipation. But when I rounded the corner, it wasn't our doting Daddies I found.

No, instead I was greeted by the sight of two Littles, huddled together like co-conspirators. One blonde, one auburn, both clad in frothy pink confections.

Kristen and Becca. Aka, the terrible twosome. They were regulars at the club, notorious for their catty remarks and superior attitudes.

Marcus's Littles, both of them. Spoiled rotten and proud of it, forever lording their status over anyone they deemed beneath them. Which, as far as I could tell, was everyone.

Alex, bless his heart, seemed determined to befriend them. To melt their icy exteriors with the sheer force of his sunniness, his dogged belief in the inherent goodness of people. It never worked, of course. They'd rebuff his overtures with cutting words and haughty sniffs, leaving him wilted and stung in their wake.

But Alex was convinced that if he just kept radiating kindness and warmth, eventually, they'd thaw. Realize the error of their ways and welcome him with open arms, apologies tumbling from trembling lips. One day, I feared it would be his undoing.

And now, with Maleficent and Cruella camped out in our kitchen, I had a sinking feeling he'd be trying to befriend them once again.

Right on cue, I heard familiar foot falls behind me. An outraged squawk, followed by the rapid patter of sock-clad feet on hardwood. Alex, it seemed, had awoken. And in true form, charged to greet our guests without a second thought.

I closed my eyes briefly, sent up a quick prayer. Then, I turned to watch the trainwreck unfold.

"Hi there!" Alex chirped, practically vibrating with goodwill as he skidded to a stop beside me. "I'm Alex, in case you forgot. And this is my friend Clark. Welcome."

He stuck out a hand, beaming fit to rival the sun. But Kristen just stared. Raked Alex with a long, assessing look, gaze lingering on his wrinkled dinosaur jammies. The wild nimbus of his bedhead, still flat on one side from the pillow.

When she finally spoke, it was with the dripping disdain of a queen to a peasant.

"Charmed," she drawled, eyeing his proffered hand like it might bite her. "Daddy didn't say anything about spending our playdate with the riffraff, but I suppose we'll just have to make do."

Behind her, Becca laughed. An ugly, snide little sound. Before I could formulate a response, Alex forged ahead gamely.

"Gosh, my apologies for the pajama party chic!" He chuckled, easy and unbothered. "We're usually a bit more coordinated, I swear. Must've misplaced my tiara and scepter between naptimes."

When Kristen simply blinked at him, unimpressed, he tried a different tack. "I love your dress, by the way. That shade of fuchsia is stunning with your skin tone. You look like a fairy princess, all set to twirl away to a grand ball."

The girls, however, remained stone faced. With a haughty sniff, Kristen turned her back on us both, focusing her attention on Becca once more.

I blinked, thrown by the abrupt dismissal. Beside me, Alex visibly deflated, confusion and hurt bleeding through his facade.

Drawing myself up to my full height, I stepped pointedly between them. Fixed Kristen with a hard look, gratified when she blanched and took a hasty step back.

"That was rude," I informed her, quiet but steely. "Alex was just trying to be nice, make you feel welcome. You don't have to be friends, but the least you could do is be polite."

For a second, she gaped at me. Eyes wide and disbelieving, like she couldn't fathom anyone having the audacity to call her out.

But she recovered quickly, drawing herself up with an affronted huff. "How dare you speak to me that way. Don't you know who I am?”

"Kristen, heiress to Daddy's empire" Becca supplied immediately, sugary venom dripping from every word. She crossed her arms, cocked a hip, the very picture of snotty entitlement. "And you'd do well to remember it, Raggedy Clark. We're so far out of your league, it's almost sad."

"Look," I gritted out, struggling for calm. "I don't care who you are or where you came from. When you're a guest in someone's home, you show respect. That's just basic decency."

Becca scoffed, loud and derisive. Kristen, however, was starting to look uncomfortable. A dull flush stained her cheeks, gaze darting around like she expected a Daddy to pop out and chastise her at any moment.

"Listen up, you insignificant little toad," Becca hissed, getting right up in my face. "You're about to learn a very valuable lesson about what happens when you cross us. We can make your lives a living hell with one snap of our fingers. So I'd think very carefully about your next move, if I were you. It would be a shame if certain unsavory rumors started circulating about you and your little playgroup."

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