"AND IT MAKES ME WANNA TAKE A BACK ROAD. MAKES ME WANNA TAKE THE LONG WAY HOME..." she turned the radio way down as she passed by the famous Wrigley Field, taking a right at the next street, the driver found herself outside a small brick apartment building. After a few moments of searching, the brunette found a parking spot a few spaces away from the front of the building. She checked the address one last time; yep, this is is.

The girl unbuckled herself just as she heard a violent buzzing from the passenger seat; pushing a few buttons she read the short message:

[From: Daddy

I love you, sweetie. Be safe.

P.S. Clark says to kick ass.]

She smiled, pocketed the phone, and wiped her small hands on her dark wash jeans. Stepping out of the car, the young woman raised her bright blue sunglasses to rest on top of her head. She opened up the trunk and pulled out two huge cardboard boxes, stacked one on top of the other, they seemed to drown the 5 ft tall girl. With no sense of sight she stumbled towards the small porch of her new home.

One stair.

Two stairs.

Three sta- CRASH!

"Shit!" she cursed quietly. She managed to stay stable on her feet, but the boxes and their contents now cluttered the porch and its steps.

"God! I am so sorry! Here, let me help you!" bending over, the man who wore a flannel shirt that lay casually unbuttoned over a white wife beater, began picking up the various spilled articles; three picture frames, a unicorn pillowpet, a scrapbook...

After placing the runaway object back in their containment unit, the 5'11" the man looked over at the small stranger he bumped into. His gaze was met with the big, bright, chocolate eyes of a petite girl. He noticed how her white v-neck tee hung loose over her small frame. He noticed the hem of her skinny jeans had been rolled up a bit to avoid stumbling and a pair of pure white vans covered the tiny girl's tiny feet. He noticed how her soft brown hair fell softly over her shoulder. Then he noticed that he had been staring.

He cleared his throat and apologized once more.

"It's my fault, really, I should have made sure I could see over the boxes…" she blushed and thanked him for his help.

"So... You're a dancer, huh?" Trying to make conversation, he shot her a bright smile and placed a well-worn pair of ballet slippers in one of the boxes.

"Yea, that's why I moved here actually... I'm Lola, by the way. Lola Lane." the stranger raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth began to twitch with a smile, "my dad is a huge fan of superman, Lola was the closest my mom let him get to Lois" she answered his unasked question with a straight face and a pointed look.

The man laughed; it was a loud, genuine laugh. "James Dasher." he said, shifting one of her boxes in his arms in order to shake hands with this new neighbor, "need help moving in?"