The Jest of Robin

20: Parental Guidance is Advised

Gotham Academy, April 29, 2010, 07:23 EDT

Students stood in their own little cliques, all throughout the courtyard. The buzz of conversation could be heard all throughout the school, everyone ignoring the fact that in just seven short minutes they need to be in class, "ready to learn". As if anyone could be ready to learn at seven in the morning. With the amount of night life in the city, it's extremely unlikely that any of these students got more than five hours of sleep that night. Or any night that is. The fact that people keep moving to Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the state, maybe even the country, is beyond anyone who already lives there. Who would purposefully move their family to a place that has killer clowns, bomb threats at least once a week, and the most feared vigilante.

Why couldn't Gotham be more like Star City, or Metropolis, or even Central City? Sure Star City was pretty dark, with some questionable villains, but it wasn't Gotham. Central City was the place everyone wanted to be. They have the superpowers, it isn't constantly overcast and stormy, and there's very rarely any casualties due to any of the villains the heroes fight. You can actually call them heroes there. They have powers, they wear bright red and yellow suits, they capture their bad guys, and they don't constantly have villains going to the emergency rooms mere minutes from dying because the Flash was having a bad day.

Not only is Central City the most upbeat place to live, but they are also proud of being who you are. If you want to kiss a boy, go for it. Want to dye your hair pinks and blues, who's gonna stop you? You want to go against the status quo, good luck. That's been gone a while ago. Just be who you want to be. Gotham wasn't like that.

Maybe the lower class, and middle class would be more open to hearing your side of it, but with the rich people... not even close. The old and the new money, they may not get along all that well, but they do have some similarities. Only hang out with those who have money so that you yourself can get more money. Work for your own gain, and never stick out. Keep your back straight, chest out, shoulders back. Head up, you don't want anyone thinking you are easy to take advantage of. Always stay in the spotlight, but don't do anything that will get people to look at you. Be normal, but be rich. Be a good person, give to charities, but not at your own expense.

These rules stuck everywhere. In the business room, at any fancy gala whatever asshole wants to throw, anywhere people can look at you. And of course, the parents taught that to their kids. Why wouldn't they? They are just teaching their kids what their parents taught them. Don't do anything out of the ordinary. That's why the entire courtyard went silent as Dick Grayson stepped outside of his normal black car.

He had his normal school uniform on, his shoes shone from the sun shining through the clouds, his pants had not a wrinkle on them. His white shirt was pressed so finely, you could see where the iron pressed the seams. His tie was done to perfection, and his overcoat fit perfectly over his small body. He shouldered his book bag, and looked up at the hoard of students. Every single pair of eyes seemed to be glued to him as he slowly made his way through the silver gates. He ran a hand through his hair.

He hadn't been able to gel it back, the chemical burn on his scalp still making his head tender. He tried to slick his hair back, and it resulted in tears before he even finished his once pure black hair. His face and arm were completely healed from the chemicals, other than being an unhealthy shade of white. Almost like snow, but not quite. His piercing blue eyes were still just as observant, although one now had a milky white glaze over it. His hair, although hopefully not permanent, was white. Pure white on that side of his face. He tried to dye it, and none of the dye would stick.

Dick pushed his hands into his pants pockets, and walked with his head down, not necessarily appreciating the attention. He had grown up a performer, but he wasn't used to this kind of attention. When he performs, all eyes are on him, but he was always able to escape the prying eyes once the curtains closed. He didn't have any curtains to hide behind. Those were taken away once he started living with Bruce. He wasn't performing one show any more. He was living it. He had no choice in the matter. Everywhere he went eyes would follow him. That's what he signed up for when he became the ward to the famous Bruce Wayne. Two orphans losing their parents in equally tragic ways, finding each other, making the other better. Yeah fucking right. Wherever that was published is a load of bullshit.