Jimmy was sixteen when he started working part time at the Daily Planet. He wanted to be a journalist. College would come later, of course, but there was a lot to be said for the fine old practise of apprenticeship. He intended to learn the work from the ground up.

And that's where he started--dirt level. He was gofer and general office dogsbody for the first year, coming in at around five and leaving at around ten. That gave him enough time to do his homework after school, and still get to bed at a relatively decent hour.

That first year he learned to fetch coffee and sandwiches and pastries from the local delis without screwing up the orders. He learned to stack and move cases of office supplies. He learned how to sharpen pencils--lots and lots of pencils. Actually, there was a knack to that. If you put too fine a point on them the lead broke and you had to sharpen them again.

The Planet was a morning paper and all he saw back then were copy editors, type setters, and the men who did the grunt work--heaving bundles of newspapers or rolling huge spindles of paper. That was all right with Jimmy--he wanted to know it all. Then the Daily Planet started putting out an evening edition, too. That meant that the journalists sometimes stayed over to work in the evenings. Bliss! Paradise! The people he admired most in the world, there for him to watch and emulate.

Sometimes he'd just sit quietly at a spare desk in the corner, watching the star reporters work their magic. Oh, there were many reporters, but only two star reporters: Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

Lois was a sharp, pretty brunette. She always wore crisp business suits or skirt and blouse combinations. Often she wore little pillbox hats, like the president's wife. Lois was fearless. She got her story, no matter what. She'd go after an interview like a starving pit bull after a filet. She pulled no punches in her stories. Jimmy admired her immensely.

Clark Kent was a different sort. He was a big man, dark hair always combed back smoothly from his forehead. He wore heavy, dark rimmed glasses that Jimmy thought made him look very intelligent and dignified. He was quiet, and people tended to overlook him, but Jimmy could tell there was a lot going on under that quiet exterior. His peices seemed to be more thought out than Lois'. Lois worked from the gut, Clark used more heart and brain.

When he was seventeen Jimmy got in the work/study program at school. He went to school half a day, and worked at the Daily Planet in the afternoon and on weekends, earning college credit for experience. It was exciting. Perry White, the editor, finally promoted him to copy boy. Now Jimmy was actually working on the paper instead of just for it.

He had a tiny desk in the corner of the main room all his own. Here he read copy, looking for obvious errors, and marked them. Then the peices would go to the editor, who would make any changes he felt necessary before passing them back to the reporters for a final polish.

That didn't mean that Jimmy didn't still sharpen pencils, move supplies, and run errands. Things went along smoothly. Later on, when they got sour, he tried to remember when it had first started. It was hard to tell, because it had been so subtle at first. He finally decided it was the night they were out of rootbeer.

It was probably because it had been so hot all day. The food places ran through a lot of soft drinks downtown, where the breezes didn't reach. It was pretty bad in the newsroom, where there were only a few fans to stir the air. It was so hot that Jimmy had taken off his jacket, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He was sweating enough to dampen his shirt, and he kind of wished that he'd worn an undershirt, but it had been too hot to consider it.

He'd collected orders and gone to the deli to pick them up. Usually Kramer's was good about having what was needed, but this time they were out of rootbeer. That was bad, three different people had ordered rootbeer, one of them Lois Lane. He was pretty sure the other ones wouldn't squawk about a substittion, but Lois had been chewing on an article about possible corruption in the sanitation department for two days, and she was in a foul mood. He got cream soda instead, and hoped she wouldn't bite his head off.

She was typing like a demon when he made the delivery, the upright Royal racketing like a machine gun. He set the bag and bottle down on the corner of her desk and started to back away quietly. "Just a minute!" The voice was sharp and authoratative. Jimmy froze, and waited anxiously.

Lois rattled off another long string of keystrikes, then ripped the paper from the roller. She read, dark eyes darting, scowling. Then she wadded it up viciously and threw it on the floor. Uh oh. Not good.

She snatched up the bag and opened it, rummaging inside. "Pickle, chips, apple... good, good. Sandwich... good. Wheat, and they remembered to toast it. Almost perfect. Maybe I won't have to kill someone." She grabbed the sweating bottle, and stopped. "Olsen!"

Jimmy winced. "Yes, Miss Lane?"

"Olsen, what did I tell you I wanted to drink?"

"A rootbeer, I didn't forget."

"Then what is this?"

"It's a cream soda. You see, the deli..."

"What the hell am I supposed to do with a cream soda when I wanted a rootbeer? Dammit, can't anything go right? I can't even get a simple damn rootbeer."

A little shocked by her swearing, Jimmy said, "Well, I'm sorry, but they were out."

"Fine. I'll have water. Get rid of it."

It wasn't just the rootbeer, Jimmy realized. She was angry and frustrated about her story. He wanted to make her feel better, somehow. "Aw, don't be mad, Miss Lane. That's a Dr. Brown's."

One dark eyebrow arched, and she said acidly, "That's supposed to mean something?"

"Sure. Haven't you every had a Dr. Brown cream?" She shook her head. "Oh, you gotta try it! You'll love it, I promise. Here, let me." He had a church key on his pocket knife, and he pried the cap off the bottle for her. The tall brown bottle was sweating with condensation, and he tried to wipe some of it off, then gave up and wrapped it in a paper napkin, offering it to her. "Here. They have a pale cream, but this is the red cream. It has a strawberry taste to it."

She accepted the bottle, and just held it a moment, staring at him. Funny, she was looking at him like she'd never seen him before, but he'd been there more than a year. He shivered a little, because the fan on her desk was blowing right on him, plastering his damp shirt to his sticky chest. It was actually so cold that... He glanced down at himself. It was so cold that his nipples were hard, and they were clearly outlined against the thin, damp fabric of his shirt. He quickly crossed his arms, and cursed his pale, redhead complexion, because he was blushing now, turning bright pink.

Lois Lane smiled. "Red cream, huh?" She took a sip, still watching him.

Jimmy waited. "Good, huh?"

She smiled at him, and licked her lips. "Delicious." Her eyes slid down to linger on his chest, then farther down, dropping slowly to his feet. Jimmy shifted nervously, wondering if the humidity had taken the crease out of his trousers. "Really sweet. How old are you, Jimmy?"

He blinked at the sudden change of subject. "I'm seventeen, Miss Lane."

She took another sip, cocking her head at him, studying him. "Do you work out in school?"

"You mean lift weights? A little, in gym."

"Thought so. Thanks, kid."

"It's all right then?"

"It's better than all right. It's mighty fine."

He smiled in relief. "Good, I'm glad. Anything else I can do for you?"

She gave him an odd smile. "I can think of a lot of things, but for now, how about getting me that wad of paper?" He went around her desk to the other side and bent over to pick up the offending peice of paper. Damn humidity! His pants clung tightly, riding up the crack of his ass. He was going to have to leave the room to adjust them.

He turned back to drop the paper in the wastebasket, and Lois was looking at him oddly, her eyes bright. "Here you go, Miss Lane."

"Thank you, Jimmy. Toddle off now, like a good boy."

As he gathered the rest of the delivery and made for the door, he heard her chuckle. "Red cream indeed. Tasty."