Anything that You Can Do |||DCU AU|||

Chapter One

Calmly sitting down in my seat, I curiously look around the ginormous classroom. The walls are a cream colour and the desks are the typical peach hue, the chairs a slate grey and the carpeted floor is a navy tone. It's set up like a wedding cake; tiered. If I have to venture a guess, I'd say that there are about twenty seats to a row and five rows. That being said, there's unassailably more than ten plus columns. Since I'm sitting in the very middle of the entire class, I suppose that my view of the elderly professor isn't as bad as it could be. Hearing him isn't a problem either, as he has a large headset and microphone. He's wearing a pale yellow vest over a white shirt, long sleeved, and his trousers remind me of Mister Rodgers- the dude with the weird trains from an old TV show. The professor is also wearing a pair of loafers, faded brown.

"Welcome to the first day of botany class!" his grandfatherly voice fills the room, "we're going to start off easy. First, can anybody tell me the Latin word for 'plant?'"

With a room this large, how is he to see any raised hands?

"Flora," a girl behind me answers.

"Correct! Now, can anybody tell me where the name is derived?"

"It comes from the Roman goddess of flowering plants. The word itself derives from 'flor," an earlier Latin word. It was first used in around 1777 and has been adopted into the English language as a popular ladys' name," the same girl responds.

Curious, I turn to face her and am awestruck of her. She has a creamy colour to her, contrasting beautifully with her crimson curls that reach her bosom. Her light green eyes are accentuated by her purple lipstick and matching eyeshadow. Clearly, she is dressed to impress and draw attention.

"How do you know all of that?" I ask, intrigued.

"My mother and I have a thing for plants," she shrugs.

"You're very correct, Miss.... Let's see," he flips through his seating chart, "Amber Lily."

"Please, call me Albie," she smiles.

The professor writes down something on the chart, presumably her nickname, and moves on with the lesson. We're paired up and made to diagram a plant, labelling each part and identifying its region. Bonus points or extra credit are given for including its scientific name. As promised, we start off with something easy: grass. However, as the class progresses, the plants get more difficult. If not for my father's obsession with knowing everything (detective work my arse) I would definitely be failing. As my partner, a Donna Troy-Kent, squints at the picture, I scribble down the answers and miss a few on purpose. I'm here to investigate, which might be hard if I stick out from my classmates.

"You're smart," she toys with her black fringe.

"My father has a lot of books. I read them while he was away at work," I reply.

"And you memorised them?"

"Well, he's away quite often."

"What's he do?"

"Oh, he's a business man."

He's also a masked vigilante.

"That must be hard. My dad is a reporter. He's away all of the time, chasing some story."

"What's your mother do?" I inquire, still filling out the answers.

"She's a diplomat," Donna sighs.

"Oh," I stop and look at her, feeling sorry for her.

"Yeah, so she's never home either. My siblings keep me company, though. What about you? What's your mum do? Do you have any siblings?"

"I don't know what my mother does. She and my father divorced when I was young. My sister went with her and I stayed with my father. It was agreed during the whole thing that we'd never speak to or see each other again."

"Oh wow... I take it that it was quite messy?"

"I know that since your father is a reporter that you've inherited his curiosity, but please don't ask me about my family."

"Oh, I'm actually adopted."

"Are your siblings adoptive or blood then?" I'm confused.

"Two of them are the biological children of my adoptive parents and one of them is also adopted. Bruce Wayne, believe it or not, sent him to us. Richard was orphaned in a horrible accident, kinda like me."

"Bruce Wayne, eh?'

"I know, right?! It's so cool to even just remember it!"

"Yeah... cool..."

"Anyway, my name is Donna Troy-Kent. I had their surname legally attached to mine to kinda thank them. You know, sort of like what Edgar Allan Poe did."

"My name is Marcy."

"Is that a nickname or your full name?"

"How about you?"

"My name is Donnatella."

"I am Marceline."

"Pretty."

"Well, my middle name is Paula."

"That's still kinda cute."

"What's your middle name?"

"I don't have one."

"Hmm... then I'll give you one."

"Since we're supposed to be diagraming plants, make it a flower."

"Okay... how about... Ivy?"

"Ivy isn't a flower?"

"Nightshade?"

"Oh, like Batman's sidekick?!"

"Uh, okay, nevermind... What do you think of... Rosalind?"

"Awe, that's pretty!"

"There you go, your new middle name."

"Donnatella Rosalind Troy-Kent," she says to herself.

"Perfect," I hand her the finished paper.

"Than yo- your last name is Wayne?"

"Oh, uh, yeah..."

"And you said that your dad... holy shit, your dad is Bruce Wayne?!"

For the daughter of the world's greatest detective, I'm a fucking idiot.